powers of resistance. According to the best and most recent measurement,
it must be about one thousand one hundred and eighty eight feet in
external circumference, the long axis being six hundred and
twenty-eight, the short five hundred and forty, and the total height one
hundred and sixty feet.[189] The whole is a vast mixed mass of enormous
blocks of stone and bricks, (probably portions of the golden palace),
metal and cement, which have become so hardened by time, as to be like
solid rock. The exterior was entirely of calcareous tufa of Tivoli,
called travertine, a fine hard and white stone. It presents a series of
three ranges of open arcades, so airy and correct in their proportions,
that the building does not appear so large as it really is. Each tier
consisted of thirty arches; the columns between which, together with the
entablatures, displaying different orders of architecture, the lowest
being Doric, the second Ionic, and the third Corinthian, surmounted by
an attic story, with Composite pilasters, and forty windows. The two
upper tiers of arches, which have the remains of pedestals for statues
in them, admitted light to the various ambulacra or corridors, which
were quadrangular at the base, diminishing in number and size as they
ascended, and terminating in a single passage at the top. The lowest
tier of arches were the entrances, seventy-six of which were for the
emperor, finely ornamented; one for the spectators, of various
denominations; and one for the consuls, senators, &c.; and two for the
gladiators, animals, &c. These entrances led to the various staircases
by which the populace gained the different dormitories, and descended by
narrow flights of steps, to the graduated ranges of seats. Altogether
there were one hundred and sixty staircases: that is,—to the first
floor, sixty-four; to the second, fifty-two; to the third, sixteen; to
the fourth, twenty-four; and four to the extreme top, for the workmen.
In the four ambulacra on the ground floor, were shops, taverns, stables,
and rooms for refreshments, and places where perfumes were burned. There
was also a fifth, or private passage, under the pulvinar, for the use of
the emperor, which communicated subterraneously with the palace. In the
tier above were twenty-two small vaulted chambers, called fornices,
devoted to the sensual pleasures of the privileged classes.
It is impossible to say at what period the amphitheatre was first
suffered to decay. The sanguinary exhibitions of the gladiators were
abolished in the reign of Honorius, at the commencement of the fifth
century; yet so late as 1632, it must have been perfect, as bull-fights,
and other games, were at that time exhibited. A great portion of the
southern side was demolished by order of Paul III., it is said at the
recommendation of Michael Angelo, to furnish materials for the Farnese
palace for his nephew, and the complaints of the populace alone saved it
from total demolition. It has however since suffered frequently from
similar depredations of worse than Goths and Vandals, so that
“From its mass,
Walls, palaces, half cities have been rear’d.”
These robberies have now ceased; Benedict XIV. having, by the erection
of a series of altars in the arena, made the whole consecrated ground; a
most efficient protection against the ravages of modern barbarism. Pius
has also erected a massive buttress against the weakest end, and
repaired some parts of the interior. Thus, after a lapse of nearly
eighteen centuries, having frequently suffered from earthquakes, storms,
and fire; having been several times battered as a fortress, during the
civil contentions of the middle ages; defaced as a quarter for soldiers;
used as a manufactory, and worked as a quarry, it still remains a
miracle of human labour and ingenuity, and is, even in its present
state, one of the noblest remains of antiquity, and the most wonderful
monument of Roman magnificence. Solitary and desolated, it is still
grand and imposing; the rich hues which time has overspread its
venerable fragments with, the luxuriant clusters of vegetation, and the
graceful drapery of numerous beautiful creepers, festooning from the
rifted arches, and broken arcades, whilst assimilating with the general
character, add an indescribable richness and variety to the whole, that
has a powerful effect on the mind of the spectator.
When the whole amphitheatre was entire[190], a child might comprehend
its design in a moment, and go direct to his place without straying in
the porticoes; for each arcade bears its number engraved, and opposite
each arcade was a staircase. This multiplicity of wide, straight, and
separate passages, proves the attention which the ancients paid to the
safe discharge of a crowd.[191] As it now stands, the Coliseum is a
striking image of Rome itself;—decayed, vacant, serious; yet
grand:—half grey, and half green; erect on one side and fallen on the
other, with consecrated ground in its bosom, inhabited by a herdsman;
visited by every caste: for moralists, antiquaries, painters,
architects, devotees, all meet here to meditate, to examine, to draw, to
measure, and to copy.
The figure of the Coliseum was an ellipse, whose longer diameter was
about six hundred and fifteen English feet, and the shorter five hundred
and ten feet. The longer diameter of the arena, or space within, was
about two hundred and eighty-one feet, and the shorter one hundred and
seventy-six feet, leaving the circuit for seats and galleries, of about
one hundred and fifty-seven feet in breadth. The outward circumference
when complete was about seventeen hundred and seventy-two feet, covering
a surface of about two hundred and forty-six thousand, six hundred and
sixty-one feet, or something more than five acres and a half. When some
pilgrims[192] who journeyed to Rome beheld this vast amphitheatre, they
are said to have exclaimed, “As long as the Coliseum stands, Rome shall
stand; when the Coliseum falls, Rome will fall; and when Rome falls, the
world will fall.”
[193]It is impossible to contemplate without horror the dreadful scenes
of carnage which for two hundred and fifty years disgraced the
amphitheatre, or to regard without utter detestation the character of
the people who took pleasure in spectacles of such monstrous brutality.
We may form some idea of the myriads of men and animals destroyed in
these houses of slaughter, from one instance which is recorded by Dio.
He informs us that after the triumph of Trajan over the Dacians,
spectacles were exhibited for one hundred and twenty-three days, in
which eleven thousand animals were killed, and one thousand gladiators
were matched against each other. Nor was it only malefactors, captives,
and slaves, that were doomed to contend in these dreadful games:
free-born citizens hired themselves as gladiators, men of noble birth
sometimes degraded themselves so far as to fight on the stage for the
amusement of their countrymen,—even women, ladies too of high rank,
forgetting the native delicacy and the feebleness of their sex, strove
on the arena for the prize of valour for the honour of adroitness in
murder. A people thus inured to blood, were prepared for every villainy;
nor is it possible to read of the enormities which disgraced the
transactions of the later Romans, without ascribing them in a great
measure to the ferocity of temper, fostered by the shocking amusements
of the amphitheatre.
“The Coliseo,” says Dupaty, “is unquestionably the most admirable
monument of the Roman power under the Cæsars. From its vast circuit,
from the multitude of stones of which it is formed, from that union of
columns of every order, which rise up one above the other, in a circular
form, to support three rows of porticoes; from all the dimensions, in a
word, of this prodigious edifice, we instantly recognise the work of a
people, sovereigns of the universe, and slaves of an emperor. I wandered
long around the Coliseo, without venturing, if I may so say, to enter
it: my eyes surveyed it with admiration and awe. Not more than one half
of this vast edifice at present is standing; yet the imagination may
still add what has been destroyed, and complete the whole. At length I
entered within its precincts. What an astonishing scene! What contrasts!
What a display of ruins, and of all the parts of the monument, of every
form, every age, and, as I may say, every year; some bearing the marks
of the hand of time, and others of the hand of the barbarian. These
crumbled down yesterday, those a few days before, a great number on the
point of falling, and some, in short, which are falling from one moment
to another. Here we see a tottering portico, there a falling
entablament, and further on, a seat; while, in the meanwhile, the ivy,
the bramble, the moss, and various plants, creep amongst these ruins,
grow, and insinuate themselves; and, taking root in the cement, are
continually detaching, separating, and reducing to powder these enormous
masses; the work of ages, piled on each other by the will of an emperor,
and the labour of a hundred thousand slaves. There was it then that
gladiators, martyrs, and slaves, combated on the Roman festivals, only
to make the blood circulate a little quicker in the veins of a hundred
thousand idle spectators. I thought I still heard the roaring of the
lions, the sighs of the dying, the voice of the executioners, and what
would strike my ear with still greater horror, the applauses of the
Romans. I thought I heard them, by these applauses, encouraging and
demanding carnage; the men requiring still more blood from the
combatants; and the women, more mercy for the dying. I imagined I beheld
one of these women, young and beautiful, on the fall of a gladiator,
rise from her seat and with an eye which had just caressed a lover,
welcome, or repel, find fault with, or applaud, the last sigh of the
vanquished, as if she had paid for it.
“But what a change has taken place in this arena! In the middle stands a
crucifix, and all round this crucifix, at equal distances, fourteen
altars, consecrated to different saints, are erected in the dens, which
once contained the wild beasts. The Coliseo was daily hastening to
destruction; the stones were carried off, and it was constantly
disfigured, and made the receptacle of filth; when Benedict XIV.
conceived the idea of saving this noble monument by consecrating it; by
defending it with altars, and protecting it with indulgences. These
walls, these columns, and these porticoes, have now no other support
but the names of those very martyrs with whose blood they were formerly
stained. I walked through every part of the Coliseo; I ascended into all
its different stories; and sat down in the box of the emperors. I shall
long remember the silence and solitude that reigned through these
galleries, along these ranges of seats, and under these vaulted
porticoes. I stopped from time to time to listen to the echo of my feet
in walking. I was delighted, too, with attending to a certain faint
rustling, more sensible to the soul than to the ear, occasioned by the
hand of time, which is continually at work, and undermining the Coliseo
on every side. What pleasure did I not enjoy, too, in observing how the
day gradually retired, and the night as gradually advanced over the
arcades, spreading her lengthening shadows. At length I was obliged to
retire; with my mind, however, filled with and absorbed in a thousand
ideas, a thousand sensations, which can only arise among these ruins,
and which these ruins in some degree inspire. Where are the five
thousand wild beasts that tore each other to pieces, on the day on which
this mighty pile was opened? Silent now are those unnatural shouts of
applause, called forth by the murderous fights of the gladiators:—What
a contrast to this death of sound!”
“Ascending among the ruins,” says Mr. Williams, “we took our station
where the whole magnitude of the Coliseum was visible. What a fulness of
mind the first glance excited; yet how inexpressible, at the same time,
were our feelings! The awful silence of this dread ruin still appealed
to our hearts. The single sentinel’s tread, and the ticking of our
watches, were the only sounds we heard, while the moon was marching in
the vault of night, and the stars were peeping through the various
openings; the shadows of the flying clouds being all that reminded us of
life and of motion.”
The manner, in which the traveller should survey the curiosities of
Rome, must be determined by the length of time which he can afford for
that purpose. “There are two modes of seeing Rome,” says Mr. Mathews;
“the topographical, followed by Vasi, who parcels out the town into
eight divisions, and jumbles every thing together,—antiquities,
churches, and palaces, if their situation be contiguous; and the
chronological,—which would carry you regularly from the house of
Romulus to the palace of the reigning pontiff. The first mode is the
most expeditious, and the least expensive; for even if the traveller
walk afoot, the economy of time is worth considering; and after all that
can be urged in favour of the chronological order, on the score of
reason, Vasi’s plan is perhaps the best. For all that is worth seeing at
all is worth seeing twice. Vasi’s mode hurries you through every thing;
but it enables you to select and note down those objects that are worthy
of public examination, and these may be afterwards studied at leisure.
Of the great majority of sights it must be confessed that all we obtain
for our labour is the knowledge that they are not worth seeing;—but
this is a knowledge, that no one is willing to receive upon the
authority of another, and Vasi’s plan offers a most expeditious mode of
arriving at this truth by one’s own proper experience. His plan is,
however, too expeditious; for he would get through the whole town, with
all its wonders, ancient and modern, in eight days!”
Expeditious as it is, some of our indefatigable countrymen have
contrived to hit upon one still more so. You may tell them that the
antiquaries allow eight days for the tour, and they will boast of having
beaten the antiquaries, and “done it in six.” This rapid system may do,
or rather must do, for those who have no time for any other; but to the
traveller who wishes to derive instruction and profit from his visit, a
more leisurely survey is essential. “For my own part,” says Mr. Woods,
“the first eight days I spent in Rome were all hurry and confusion, and
I could attend to nothing systematically, nor even examine any thing
with accuracy; a sort of restless eagerness to see every thing and know
every thing, gave me no power of fixing my attention on any one
particular.”
We must now close our account: not that we have by any means exhausted
the subject, for it demands volumes and years; whereas our space is
limited, and our time is short. We shall, therefore, devote the
remainder of our space and time to the impressions with which the ruins
of this city have been viewed by several elegant and accomplished
travellers.
“At length I behold Rome,” said Dupaty. “I behold that theatre, where
human nature has been all that it can ever be, has performed every thing
it can perform, has displayed all the virtues, exhibited all the vices,
brought forth the sublimest heroes, and the most execrable monsters, has
been elevated to a Brutus, degraded to a Nero, and re-ascended to a
Marcus Aurelius.”
“Even those who have not read at all,” says Dr. Burton, “know, perhaps,
more of the Romans than of any other nation[194] which has figured in
the world. If we prefer modern history to ancient, we still find Rome in
every page; and if we look with composure upon an event so antiquated as
the fall of the Roman empire, we cannot, as Englishmen, or as
protestants, contemplate with indifference the sacred empire which Rome
erected over the minds and consciences of men. Without making any
invidious allusion, it may be said that this second empire has nearly
passed away; so that, in both points of view, we have former
recollections to excite our curiosity.”
“Neither the superb structures,” says Sir John Hobhouse, “nor the happy
climate, have made Rome the country of every man, and ‘the city of the
soul.’ The education, which has qualified the traveller of every nation
for that citizenship, prepares enjoyments for him at Rome, independent
of the city and inhabitants about him, and of all the allurements of
site and climate. He will already people the banks of the Tiber with the
shades of Pompey, Constantine, and Belisarius, and other heroes. The
first footsteps within the venerable walls will have shown him the name
and magnificence of Augustus, and the three long narrow streets,
branching from the obelisk in the centre of the Piazza del Popolo, like
the theatre of Palladio, will have imposed upon his fancy with an air of
antiquity congenial to the soil. Even the mendicants of the country
asking alms in Latin prayers, and the vineyard gates of the suburbs,
inscribed with the ancient language, may be allowed to contribute to the
agreeable delusion.”
“What,” says Chateaubriand, gazing on the ruins of Rome by moonlight,
“what was doing here eighteen centuries ago, at a like hour of night?
Not only has ancient Italy vanished, but the Italy of the middle ages is
also gone. Nevertheless, the traces of both are plainly marked at Rome.
If this modern city vaunts her St. Peter’s, ancient Rome opposes her
Pantheon and all her ruins; if the one marshals from the Capitol her
consuls and emperors, the other arrays her long succession of pontiffs.
The Tiber divides the rival glories; seated in the same dust, pagan Rome
sinks faster and faster into decay, and Christian Rome is gradually
re-descending into the catacombs whence she issued.”
What says Lord Byron in regard to this celebrated city?—“I am
delighted with Rome. As a whole—ancient and modern—it beats Greece,
Constantinople, every thing,—at least that I have seen. As for the
Coliseum, Pantheon, St. Peter’s, the Vatican, &c. &c., they are quite
inconceivable, and must be _seen_.”
We close this article with a fine passage from Middleton’s Life of
Cicero:—“One cannot help reflecting on the surprising fate and
revolutions of kingdoms; how Rome, once the mistress of the world, the
seat of arts, empire, and glory, now lies sunk in sloth, ignorance, and
poverty, enslaved to the most cruel, as well as the most contemptible of
tyrants, superstition and religious imposture; while this remote
country, anciently the jest and contempt of the polite Romans, is become
the happy seat of liberty, plenty, and letters; flourishing in all the
arts and refinements of civil life; yet running, perhaps, the same
course which Rome itself had run before,—from virtuous industry to
wealth; from wealth to luxury; from luxury to an impatience of
discipline and corruption of morals; till, by a total degeneracy and
loss of virtue, being grown ripe for destruction, it falls a prey at
last to some hardy oppressor; and, with the loss of liberty, losing
every thing that is valuable, sinks gradually again into original
barbarism.”
See the wild waste of all-devouring years:
How Rome her own sad sepulchre appears!
With nodding arches, broken temples spread!
The very tombs now vanish’d like their dead!
Imperial wonders raised on nations spoil’d,
Where mix’d with slaves the groaning martyr toil’d:
Huge theatres, that now unpeopled woods,
Now drain’d a distant country of her floods:
Fanes, which admiring gods with pride survey,
Statues of men, scarce less alive than they![195]
POPE’S _Epistle to Addison_.
NO. XXII.—SAGUNTUM.
_Proud and cruel nation! every thing must be yours, and at
your disposal! You are to prescribe to us with whom we shall
make war; with whom we shall make peace! You are to set
bounds; to shut us up between hills and rivers: but you—you
are not to observe the limits which yourselves have fixed.
Pass not the Iberus. What next? Touch not the Saguntines.
Saguntum is upon the Iberus; move not a step towards that
city._
HANNIBAL’S SPEECH TO HIS SOLDIERS.
Saguntum was a celebrated city of Hispania Taraconensis, on the west
side of the Iberus, about a mile from the sea-shore. It was founded by a
colony of Zacynthians, and by some of the Rutili of Ardea[196].
Saguntum, according to Livy, acquired immense riches, partly from its
commerce both by land and sea, and partly from its just laws and
excellent police.
Saguntum was under the protection of the Romans, if not numbered amongst
its cities; and when by a treaty made between that people and the
Carthaginians, the latter were permitted to carry their arms as far as
the Iberus, this city was excepted.
The moment Hannibal was created general, he lost no time, for fear of
being prevented by death, as his father had been. Though the Spaniards
had so much advantage over him, with regard to the number of forces,
their army amounting to upwards of one hundred thousand men, yet he
chose his time and posts so happily, that he entirely defeated them.
After this every thing submitted to his arms. But he still forbore
laying siege to Saguntum, carefully avoiding every occasion of a rupture
with the Romans, till he should be furnished with all things necessary
for so important an enterprise;—pursuant to the advice of his father.
He applied himself particularly to engage the affections of the citizens
and allies, and to gain their confidence, by allotting them a large
share of the plunder taken from the enemy, and by paying them all their
arrears.
The Saguntines, on their side, sensible of the danger with which they
were threatened, from the continued successes of Hannibal, advertised
the Romans of them. Upon this, deputies were nominated by the latter,
and ordered to go and take a personal information upon the spot; they
commanded them also to lay their complaints before Hannibal, if it
should be thought proper; and in case he should refuse to do justice,
that then they should go directly to Carthage, and make the same
complaints. In the meantime, Hannibal laid siege to Saguntum, promising
himself great advantages from the taking of this city. He was persuaded
that this would deprive the Romans of all hopes of carrying the war into
Spain; that this new conquest would secure the old ones; and that no
enemy would be left behind him; that he should find money enough in it
for the execution of his designs; that the plunder of the city would
inspire his soldiers with great ardour, and make them follow him with
greater cheerfulness; and that, lastly, the spoils which he should send
to Carthage would gain him the favour of the citizens. Animated by
these motives, he carried on the siege with the utmost vigour.
News was soon carried to Rome, that Saguntum was besieged. But the
Romans, instead of flying to its relief, lost their time in fruitless
debates, and equally insignificant disputations. The Saguntines were now
reduced to the last extremity, and in want of all things. An
accommodation was thereupon proposed; but the conditions on which it was
offered, appeared so harsh, that the Saguntines could not so much as
think of accepting them. Before they gave their final answer, the
principal senators, bringing their gold and silver, and that of the
public treasury, into the market-place, threw both into a fire, lighted
for that purpose, and afterwards themselves! At the same time, a tower
which had been long assaulted by the battering-rams, falling with a
dreadful noise, the Carthaginians entered the city by the breach, and
soon made themselves masters of it, and cut to pieces all the
inhabitants, who were of sufficient age to bear arms.
“Words,” says Polybius, “could never express the grief and consternation
with which the news of the taking, and cruel fate of Saguntum, was
received at Rome. Compassion for an unfortunate city, shame for their
having failed to succour such faithful allies, a just indignation
against the Carthaginians, the authors of all these calamities; the
strong alarms, raised by the successes of Hannibal, whom the Romans
fancied they saw already at their gates; all these sentiments were so
violent, that, during the first moments of them, the Romans were unable
to come to any resolution, or do any thing, but give way to the torrent
of their passion, and sacrifice floods of tears to the memory of a city,
which lay in ruins because of its inviolable fidelity to the Romans,
and had been betrayed by their imprudent delays, and unaccountable
indolence. When they were a little recovered, an assembly of the people
was called, and war unanimously declared against the people of
Carthage.”
The conqueror afterwards rebuilt it, and placed a garrison there, with
all the noblemen whom he had detained as hostages, from the several
neighbouring nations of Spain[197].
The city remained in a deplorable state of distress under the
Carthaginians, till the year of Rome 538, when Scipio, having humbled
the power of Carthage in Spain, in process of time recovered Saguntum,
and made it, as Pliny says, “a new city.” By the Romans it was treated
with every kind of distinction; but at some period, not ascertained by
historians, it was reduced to ruins.
The city of Morviedro is supposed to be situated on the ruins of
Saguntum; the name of which being derived from _Muri veteres_, _Muros
viejos_, “old walls.” It abounds with vestiges of antiquity. Several
Celtiberian and Roman inscriptions are seen; but of all the numerous
statues that the temples, and other public edifices of Saguntum once
had, only one remains, of white marble, without a head; besides the
fragment of another.
The traces of the walls of its circus are, nevertheless, still
discernible; though its mosaic pavement is destroyed. A greater portion
of the theatre remains than of any other Roman monument.
A writer on Spanish antiquities in 1684, gives the following account of
this city, whereby we may learn that at that time there were many more
remains of antiquity then there are at present. “The Roman
inscriptions,” says he, “that are scattered up and down in the public
and private buildings, and the medals and other monuments of antiquity,
that have been found there, being endless, I shall only present my
reader with that which is over one of the gates of the town, in honour
of the emperor Claudius:—