admires, the Palazzo Doria; nor are the rooms within handsome, but the
collection of paintings is very fine. The beauty of the Sciarra Palace
is much injured by its admired doorway, which is neither good in itself,
nor at all suited to its place. In other respects the general
distribution of the building is fine, and the parts are well
proportioned. Internally, there is a collection of paintings, not large,
at least compared with many others at Rome, but exceedingly beautiful.
On the upper floor are two fine apartments, decorated in perhaps rather
a _thin_ taste, yet on the whole, very elegant. The last room of the
principal suite presents the idea of a frame work of gold covered with
drapery. It certainly cannot vie with the magnificence of regular
architecture, yet it forms an agreeable, and elegant variety, in a suite
where the general character is rather that of grace and lightness, than
of solidity.
After leaving this we may walk to Monte Citorio, an elevation only of a
few feet, which would hardly be observed, unless the name attracted
attention. It is said to be produced by the ruins of the Theatre of
Statilius Taurus. On the top is a large building called by the same
name, containing the courts of justice. The convexity of the front is
injurious to its effect. The architect has left, or rather made, some of
the window-sills at the extremes of the building, and some other parts,
of large irregular masses of stone. I cannot comprehend his motive.
In front of this building is the solar obelisk, which Augustus brought
from Egypt, and fixed in the Campus Martius as the gnomon of a sundial.
It was found buried and broken in 1748, but was not repaired and
re-erected till 1789. The height of the obelisk itself is 68 feet, and
it is better, because more simply mounted, than most others in Rome;
indeed the pedestal seems to be the ancient Roman one, but the moderns
could not be contented without adding a little metal at the top.
I shall not take you to the Palazzo Ghigi to admire the external
architecture, which has little merit except in size, or to see the
collections, though there are some fine paintings, and some ancient
statues restored by Canova, but to see some of the rooms themselves,
which are very handsome. One in particular will be numbered among the
handsomest rooms (of small dimensions) in Europe. It is 40 feet 9 inches
long, 17 feet 9 inches wide, and about 28 feet high, with pilasters on a
continued plinth, and a coved ceiling with arches above. The
interpilasters are groined into the cove; the angles, both entering and
salient, have bold wreaths of flowers; the mouldings, and ornaments of
the centre panels, are white upon a buff ground.
With this palace I conclude my letter, having brought you again into the
neighbourhood of the Piazza di Spagna. Our next excursion must be to the
Trastevere.
LETTER XXXII.
TRASTEVERE—WALLS.
_Rome, May, 1817._
I CONCLUDED my last with a promise, or perhaps I should say a threat, of
a walk in the Trastevere, which I am now about to perform. I shall not
however, entirely skip over the intervening ground, but glean whatever
occurs on the way; and first I will take you to San Carlo, in the Corso;
a church which looks better at a distance than near, because the general
form of the front is that of a Greek temple crowned with a pediment, but
on approaching we find so many breaks and angles, cutting through
cornice, pediment, and everything else, that all beauty of design is
lost: the interior is good, but there are others better of the same sort
in Rome. Another church in the Corso, is that of Gesù e Maria. Not by
any means one of the largest, or richest churches in this city, yet a
priest who accompanied me, assured me that he had spent 7,000 crowns,
raised entirely by voluntary contributions, in putting up an altar, and
otherwise decorating one of the side chapels; and there is no reason to
distrust his information. It was dedicated to La Madonna del divin
Ajuto, and the father gave me her picture.
Not far from this is the Palazzo Rondadini, famous not in itself, but
for two exquisite festoons of fruit and leaves in white marble, built up
in the wall of the court. At a very short distance is the Mausoleum of
Augustus, originally a vast circular edifice, composed of concentric
circles, rising higher as they approached the middle, and forming a
succession of terraces adorned with trees,[2] as we learn from the
medals representing it. The outer circle, or perhaps circles, are now
destroyed; and we have only the central mass formed of rubble, with
facings of reticulated work, and the upper part reduced into an
amphitheatre for the exhibition of fire-works, and of bull-fights. What
is below I do not know. Piroli has given a section which represents it
as nearly solid.
Our next step will be to the Ripetta, the resort of the smaller barks
which navigate the Tiber. A large flight of steps leads down to the
water, and a ferry will, if you please, carry you to a footpath across
some meadows, affording a pleasanter, but somewhat longer, walk to the
Vatican. The long succession of streets which conducts us to the Ponte
Sant Angelo, is one of the most disagreeable of the principal avenues of
Rome. In it we find the great Palazzo Borghese, shaped as you are told,
like a harpsichord, not however from any predilection for this form, but
to accommodate it to the shape of the ground. Externally, it has no
architectural merit except that of size. Each story has its mezzanine,
an arrangement which would be convenient in a large hotel, for the
independent accommodation of a number of families, but which wants the
unity of a princely residence. The court is admired by some persons, but
I do not much like it; it is surrounded by arches supported on coupled
columns; an arrangement which has neither the solidity of a pier, nor
the lightness, and grace, of a single column.
But who thinks of the architecture, while painting here displays all its
glories. The collection is immense, but what is more, the pictures are
wonderfully fine. The _Deposition_ from the cross, though executed
before Raphael had gained the richness and force of colour exhibited in
his latest pictures, in design, and expression, may rank with anything
he ever did. I must not begin upon this subject; criticisms on paintings
if not excellent, are worthless, and since I cannot hope that mine will
stand in the first predicament, I will not expose them to the latter
imputation.
The Church of Sant Agostino, is not praiseworthy for its architecture,
but it contains some fine Guercinos, and a head of Isaiah by Raphael,
which is much admired. In the convent is a library of old books (there
are no new ones in Rome), which is open to the public every morning from
eight to twelve, except on feast days.
From Sant Agostino, we may visit San Luigi de’ Francesi, which is very
rich, and rather handsome (I speak of the inside, the outsides of Roman
churches I seldom pretend to criticise). The dome springs from the same
height as the vaulting of the nave, the diameter being from angle to
angle. Its merits consist in a remarkably fine Francesco Bassan, a
painter usually little thought of in Rome but this is really worth
seeing for the character of the heads; and a chapel, containing a copy
by Guido, of the Santa Cecilia of Raphael, and adorned by the frescos of
Domenichino.
We pass by the Palazzo del Governo, _i. e._ the police office, a rich,
but not handsome building, formerly the Palazzo Madama, and by the
Sapienza, of which I have already given you some account, and we may go
through the church of San Giacomo degli Spagnoli into the Piazza Navona,
the ancient Circus Agonalis, or rather the Circus of Alexander Severus,
the form of which it preserves. There are no remains visible, but
probably some might be found in the cellars of the surrounding houses,
if it were worth while to search for them. In the circuit of this long
opening, we may admire the church of Santa Agnese, the Palazzo Pamfili
adjoining, and the Palazzo Braschi, which I shall shortly describe to
you; but of the latter little is seen.
Within the Piazza, the ornaments are three fountains; the middle
consists of a great rock, with figures of rivers rising from a large
basin; the rock is perforated in both directions, yet on the top is
placed an obelisk fifty-one feet high, which was found in the circus of
Caracalla. This absurdity is the admired work of Bernini, who is said
himself to have been so much ashamed of it, that he pulled up the blinds
of his carriage whenever he passed the Piazza Navona to avoid seeing it.
Races are sometimes exhibited here, and the people are said to enjoy
them the more, because the sharp turn at one end, taking place on the
hard pavement, frequently produces serious accidents. If so, something
of the detestable gladiator taste of the empire still subsists at Rome,
but I hope, for the honour of human nature, that it is not true.
A portico has recently been added to the church of San Pantaleo, in
which the Ionic order of the Athenian temple of Erectheus has been
imitated; but the moulding within the volute is too strongly marked, and
the recess which separates its folds is too deep; these faults quite
spoil its effect. It is besides an order of very peculiar character, not
suited to every situation.
Close by this is the Braschi Palace, of great size, and built of
excellent, pale-coloured brickwork, with stone ornaments. The
foundations were laid, according to Uggeri, in this manner. After the
trenches were dug, water was introduced to the depth of about a foot,
and stones and liquid mortar were thrown in, without order, and formed
one solid mass, upon which the walls were afterwards built. According to
the same writer this method is common in Rome, and certainly the present
edifice does credit to the practice.
Though irregular in its form, and not very good in its details, there is
perhaps, no building in Rome which has more the air of a palace. A coach
was turning round in the hall, as I entered it for the first time. The
staircase is very noble, and rich in marbles; the steps are supported on
arches resting on columns, and these arches are not semicircles, with an
upright addition to the lower part, to compensate for the different
heights at which the columns are placed, but are curved immediately from
the lower column, as well as from the upper; the tangent at each
springing being vertical. The effect is grand, but the arrangement is
not satisfactory, nor have I ever seen any that was, in an open
staircase of more than one story, where the steps were too wide to be
well supported by their insertion into the wall. There is a collection
of ancient marbles in some unfinished rooms, the pride of which is an
exquisite colossal statue of Antinous, found at Palestrina. There are
also paintings on the second floor, but I could not obtain admittance.
At the angle of this palace is the mutilated trunk called Pasquin, the
ancient receptacle of squibs against the government, and against
conspicuous individuals; but he speaks no more, though the name is
preserved.
If we continue our walk at the back of the Piazza Navona, we shall find
the Church of the Santa Maria dell’ Anima: so called from an image of
the Madonna with two little figures kneeling to her, representing two
souls of the faithful. It would appear therefore, that it ought to be
_delle anime_. The piers are very slender, and the church has this
singularity, that the side aisles are as high as the middle. The effect
is good, and we may be sure it is owing to the disposition, since the
eye is not cheated into admiration by any richness of ornament, or
beauty of detail. The altar-piece is by Giulio Romano, a fine picture,
but much blackened.
Near this is the Church of Santa Maria della Pace, which has on the
outside, a large, semicircular, Doric portico, with coupled columns.
There seems no reason for the coupling, and all the other parts are bad.
Here are the Sybils of Raphael, which, though they have lost something
of their original value by time and retouching, are still fine frescos;
and this church also exhibits a small quantity of very beautiful _cinque
cento_ ornament. There are also some frescos of Albano.
The cloisters are the design of Bramante; they are formed by arches
between columns and pedestals below; and columns backed by little piers,
and detached columns over the crown of the arch, form a gallery above.
The effect is not displeasing, yet when the columns are thus placed upon
arches, (if such a liberty is to be allowed at all) it is better to keep
them very small, and put two in each space.
In this quarter of the city stands also the Chiesa Nuova, rich and ugly.
In the altar-piece, Rubens has painted one picture within another; the
Madonna and Child being separated by a gilt frame from the figures which
are adoring them, and which seem therefore to be adoring the picture.
Adjoining it is the Oratorio of San Filippo Neri, where you will only
go, if you wish to see how ill a great sum of money can be spent.
Before crossing the Tiber, we may visit the Church of San Giovanni de’
Fiorentini, begun by Michael Angelo Buonarroti, but continued either by
Giacomo della Porta, or by Sansovino, for it is uncertain which was
employed. I should rather attribute it to Sansovino, for Giacomo della
Porta is more confused in his arrangement. A continued pedestal runs
above the cornice, from which springs a waggon-headed vault with the
windows groined into it; and if on this vault there were ribs of
architecture, instead of its being whitewashed, as it really is, the
disposition and proportions would have a good effect.
The bridge of Sant Angelo was erected by Hadrian, re-erected by Clement
VII., and adorned, or disfigured, with unmeaning statues by Bernini,
under Clement IX. I do not know that figures are always to be rejected
on the balustrades of houses or bridges, yet in fact they seldom look
well. This bridge consists of three large arches and two smaller ones on
each side, the larger only giving a passage to the river at its usual
level, and forming a water-way of 178 feet. The depth in the arches for
the greatest part of the year is about 22 feet, according to Piranesi,
from whom I have taken these dimensions. In the month of August it falls
as low as to 17. In the winter floods it rises to 34, and in 1750 it
rose to 43 feet. The whole width of the stream below the bridge is 248
feet in common cases, but it may spread to above 400 without overflowing
its banks. I do not know its rate, but it seems a pretty rapid current.
Immediately opposite the bridge, stands the Mausoleum of Hadrian.
Augustus built his sepulchre for himself and his family, including
servants and dependents, and a large building, if not a sumptuous one,
seems necessary for such a purpose. Hadrian is supposed to have built
his, with all the selfishness of despotism, for himself alone. Hadrian
shall never be my hero; he had no high and generous feeling; yet even
he, in his immense villa at Tivoli, had some view towards his
fellow-creatures, their wants and welfare. Enough remained of the spirit
of liberty to convince him, that his glory was intimately connected with
their use and advantage, while Louis XIV. at Versailles, seems to have
had all his thoughts begin and end in himself. What remains of this vast
burying-place consists of a basement 253 feet square, with a circular
tower in the centre, about 192 feet in diameter. This circular part is
now a mere mass, but it is said to have been highly adorned with marbles
and statues, and surrounded with a magnificent circle of the beautiful
columns which are still shown in the church of St. Paul. Notwithstanding
this evidence the fact is very doubtful.
St. Gregory saw an angel on the top of this Mausoleum, in the year 593,
and from that, the building has obtained the name of Castello di Sant
Angelo. Perhaps it would be more correct to say, that the name is
derived from the figure of an angel in bronze, commemorative of the
event or of the tradition, which now majestically crowns the edifice.
This statue was not erected till the time of Benedict XIV., but it was
preceded by one executed in marble by Raffaello di monte Lupo.
From this castle are exhibited the famous fireworks of the 28th and 29th
June, the feasts of St. Peter and St. Paul, originally designed by
Michael Angelo. The first flight of rockets is 4,500, and it forms a
complete canopy of fire. The exhibition is over in an hour, and does not
linger through half the night. In exhibitions of this sort, and in the
lengthened entertainments at theatres and balls, it seems as if there
were something in the English character which impels us to drain the cup
of pleasure to the dregs.
And now, instead of going up to the Vatican, we will keep to the left,
along the street, and by the hospital of the Spirito Santo, where the
mortality of the patients is said to be one in three, but I suspect
there are circumstances which make a comparison of this sort very
fallacious; and to the gate now distinguished by the same name, which
divides two parts of the city. It was begun by Michael Angelo, and never
was finished, and probably never will be; what is built is in good
character, but follows, I know not why, a curved line, when a straight
one would have been better. We do not hence pursue our way at once by
the long street called the Lungara, but turn up by Sant Onofrio, a
church erected about the middle of the fifteenth century, where we see
some frescos of Domenichino, worthy a better subject than the legend of
St. Jerome; a beautiful Madonna by Leonardo da Vinci; and the tomb of
Tasso. Here was also the tomb of Barclay, the author of the Argenis; and
the tomb may still exist, but the stone which marked it is gone, because
as the priest told me it was _roba spurca_. I do not know what he meant.
We now return to the Lungara, a long street parallel with the Tiber,
with some good houses, or as they are here called, palaces, amongst
which are the Farnesina, which I have already described, and the
Corsini, which really does deserve the name. It extends above 200 feet
along the street, presenting on the principal story, a range of
seventeen windows. Though large, it is not handsome. The entrance
however, is truly magnificent. Passing through a spacious vestibule, we
arrive at the foot of the staircase, which diverging to the right and
left, returns in the centre, leaving space for a carriage-road
underneath it. Here is an admirable collection of pictures, which I
shall not pretend to enumerate, and a fine library, open to the public
from nine to twelve, for a considerable portion of the year, but not
much attended to of late, as perhaps you will conclude, when I tell you
that it contains four copies of the first volume of Stuart’s Athens, and
none of the second or third, and when a stranger goes, the librarians
seem to perform their task grudgingly. Many things of this sort were at
one time to be found in Rome, but none of them are now kept up with
spirit.
[Illustration: Sketch]
Behind the palace is the Villa, for as I have already said, this term is
applied in Italy to the ground, and not to the buildings. It is
delightfully situated on the slope of the Janiculum, but all this part
lies under a horrible imputation of mal aria.
Issuing from this palace we may descend to the Ponte Sisto, the ancient
Janiculensis, but the present edifice is I believe entirely modern. On
the other side is the fountain of this name. The water guggles from a
hole in a wall forming the back of an arched recess, into a vase just
below, over the edges of which it runs, and falls into the basin at
bottom. The architecture is not bad, but the principal fall ought to
have been first. A few steps farther on, is the Church of the Santissima
Trinità, famous for a picture of the Trinity by Guido. If the head of
the Deity had been intended for that of Moses, it would be universally
acknowledged sublime, but the attempt to represent this subject, must
always produce disappointment or disgust.
Near this is the Monte di Pietà, a public establishment for lending
money on pledges, and resembling perhaps in some degree our savings
banks.
We return again over the bridge, and ascending by the mills supplied
from the Fontana Paolina, go to the botanic garden, which contains but
few plants.[3] It occupies a situation just above the fountain, which
indeed pours forth a river. There are three equal arches discharging as
many equal streams of water, and two smaller ones, with only a spout in
each. An enormous attic rises above these arches, to receive the
inscription, and the whole is crowned with a sort of pediment ornament,
much like that at the Fontana Felice, somewhat larger, and considerably
worse. The whole merit of the thing consists in the great abundance of
water; but it is said not to be good. I do not know precisely whether it
is brought from the lake of Bracciano, or from springs in that
neighbourhood. It is clear and bright, and supplies fountains and turns
mills, to which purpose it is almost exclusively applied, as well as any
water could do.
A short walk conducts us to the Church of San Pietro in Montorio, rising
on an advancing point of the Janiculum, and commanding a glorious view,
including almost all the objects of antiquity in Rome which can possibly
be comprised in any general view; and nearly all the modern city, with
its domes and palaces; the Tiber; the seven hills, or rather six, for
the eye cannot hence distinguish the Viminal, three of which are covered
with gardens and vineyards; Monte Testaccio; great part of the walls,
and the country beyond them; Monte Albano; and the Apennines.
The church itself has two orders in front, each presenting a single
pilaster at each angle of the building. The lower includes a large and
handsome doorway, the upper a single circular window. The simplicity of
this disposition renders it superior to most of the church fronts in
Rome. It was built about 1500, at the expense of Isabella of Spain, wife
of Ferdinand the Fourth.
Within this church was once the glory of modern art, the Transfiguration
of Raphael, now in the Vatican, after its journey to Paris; and there
still is a Flagellation, coloured by Sebastian del Piombo, from the
design of Michael Angelo. It is an admirable painting, but like all
frescos, in a state of decay.[4]
In the cloister of the convent annexed to this church, is the famous
_Tempietto_ of Bramante, built on the spot where St. Peter was
crucified; and the hole in which the cross stood, is shewn exactly in
the centre of the present building. It is a little circular structure,
surrounded by a peristyle of sixteen Doric columns, and this circle of
columns, with its pedestal and the steps up to it, is beautiful.
Everything is well proportioned, and in its just place; but the upper
part of the edifice is not good. The parts within the portico are
crowded and confused, and the inside has little or no beauty.
From San Pietro we descend to the Church of Santa Maria in Trastevere,
and to that of San Grisogono, both of which I have described to you.
That of Santa Cecilia is in a similar style, with ancient columns, and
originally a flat ceiling, but this is now replaced by a low elliptical
vault, leaving space only for very low windows. The disposition is
displeasing in itself, and the more so, from its want of suitableness to
the lower parts; an appearance of lightness may be given to a small
arch, which cannot by any means be preserved in a continued vault. A row
of columns supporting such a vault, has therefore always the appearance
of insufficiency. The statue of the saint is much admired.