afterwards to Subiaco. The road follows the valley of the Anio, and
numerous fragments of vaults and foundations, are evidence that villas
were erected also on this side of Tivoli, but there are none to be
compared in situation, or in the importance of the existing ruins, to
those which command the Campagna. An inscription found in one of these
has occasioned it to be supposed that the Numidian Syphax resided here,
as it is known that he died in the neighbourhood; but the genuineness of
the monument is disputed. About eight miles from Tivoli we reach Vico
Varo, the Varia of Horace. The name remains, though nothing of the
ancient town is in existence, except part of the walls, constructed of
large squared blocks of stone. I had heard of a temple here, but found
instead a half Gothic chapel of an octagonal form, and of the latest
period. In inquiring for this chapel I had plenty of offers to _carry_
me there, and to Licenza, and the villa of Horace, and I engaged a
ragged little fellow for that purpose; on the way he told me how many
_Ingresi_ he had served, and what fine handsome men they were; and of
course how generous, and how well they had paid him. He inquired my
name, and when I had told him, he exclaimed, “_Bel nome, era il nome del
marito di nostra signora_,” and I was immediately, “_Sor Giuseppe_,”
“_Sor mio Giuseppe_,” and “_Caro mio sor Giuseppe_.” He then proceeded
to tell me that he had gone to bed without supper, and had eaten nothing
that morning; “_e nondimeno sto sempre allegro così_,” but a
modification was added afterwards, that he had eaten nothing but the
tops of the traveller’s joy (_Clematis vitalba_), which indeed we saw a
parcel of women and children gathering for a similar purpose. Our path
lay up the valley of Ustica, a fertile and beautiful vale, cultivated at
the bottom, with woods on the slopes of the hills, and villages on the
tops. One of these, called Rocca Giovane, is supposed by some
antiquaries to occupy the site of the _putre fanum Vacunæ_ mentioned by
Horace. The opinion rests on the authority of an inscription found, or
said to have been found there, of the emperor Vespasian; recording the
restoration of a temple of Victory, fallen into decay by age, and it is
_supposed_ that Vacuna and Victory were names of the same goddess. The
valley divides at the foot of the mountains, into three little valleys,
or ravines, each watered by a streamlet. The middle is the principal
one, and since my return I have been told of a beautiful spring which
furnishes it, at the distance of two or three miles, which my informant
considered as the true Fons Bandusiæ of Horace. Licenza, the ancient
Digentia, stands on a high point of land between this and the
right-hand, or eastern branch, and we were obliged to climb up to the
village in order to find the present occupier of the villa of Horace; my
plan had been to obtain a bed there; but appearances were not promising,
and finding myself in good time, I determined to return, and proceed to
San Cosimato; I therefore procured some eggs and curd, the best dinner
to be had, and walked with my new guide to Fonte Bello, supposed, but
without sufficient reason, to be the Fons Bandusiæ. We are here quite
among the mountains. The fountain is a small spring at the foot of an
insignificant rock, the water of which does not taste cold, and
therefore has probably been previously exposed to the influence of the
air. A little above this is a larger rock, hollowed out into caves, and
shaded with trees and shrubs (but unfortunately, not with ilex), and
from its foot a few trifling threads of water passed over the ground,
between it and the before-mentioned rock, and joined the water of the
spring: the situation is a narrow, rocky ravine, filled with wood, above
which Monte Gennaro rises in several summits, and forms, with its
ramifications, all these valleys. The point immediately above us, on the
south, is called Monte Campitelli, and is pointed out by the people of
the place, as the ancient Lucretilis, a name which more probably
belonged to the whole mass of mountain. In passing from the spring to
the villa of Horace, we met with another supply of water, much more
copious and beautiful, but this is conducted artificially along the
hill, and discharges itself over an arch into a large basin; it is
called the Fonte del Oratino. There is a third spring, but of the
smallest size, immediately behind the villa. Of this villa itself there
are no apparent remains, except one trifling fragment of wall; but there
is a flat space now occupied by one vineyard and part of another, whose
surface has the appearance of an artificial level, under which, at the
depth of about eighteen inches, traces of foundations are observable,
and a mosaic pavement in good preservation. They told me of vaults and
baths, but altogether under the present surface. There can be no doubt
that Horace’s Sabine villa was hereabouts, in the upper part of this
valley; and it may have been on this very spot, but we have no proof. As
for the Fons Bandusiæ, I am afraid that we have no sort of reason for
believing it to be in this neighbourhood. The Abbé Chaupy, who has
published a long work on the subject, insists that it was near Venosa,
the native country of Horace; and he even finds there the name of
Bandulia, which is sufficiently near. Unfortunately, there is no
fountain, but that may have been filled up in the lapse of eighteen
centuries. I hope you are perfectly convinced.[9] After seeing what was
to be seen, I returned down the valley, but instead of keeping the road
by which I had ascended, directed my course to the Franciscan convent of
San Cosimato, where the good fathers gave me a supper and bed, and
entertained me with a number of stories about snakes found among these
mountains. I gave my young ragamuffin his dinner at Licenza, and five
pauls when I got to the gate of the convent, but he still begged for
more, and followed me into the monastery, and into my bed-room to obtain
it. I told the superior how much I had given, and he replied that it was
too much, and that two pauls would have been sufficient: all this passed
in the boy’s hearing, yet he still continued his importunity. The lower
classes here seem to find no shame in begging, under any circumstances.
As nothing is therefore lost by it, and they may possibly gain, they
consider that it is foolish to lose anything for want of asking, or even
of urging their demands to the utmost. The situation of this convent is
on the edge of a wild romantic chasm, through which the Anio passes.
Between Vico Varo and Tivoli this river runs quietly along an open
valley, generally through a soil of a volcanic deposit; and where we see
the more solid rock, it is the native limestone of the Apennines. A long
tongue of land begins somewhere in the neighbourhood of Vico Varo, which
extending obliquely along the valley, seems at one time to have dammed
up its waters till they found or formed the present cleft. This tongue
is entirely of a stony deposit like that at Tivoli, and abounds with
caverns, some of which are shewn as the residence of St. Benedict. Near
Fonte Bello is a rock, the fragments scaling from which have exactly the
appearance of giallo antico; in other places we meet with a calcareous
breccia, and in one place I observed a dark trap-like looking substance.
It is remarkable that none of the springs in this valley appear to form
the deposit which the river leaves so abundantly in certain places.
I do not know if I should give you any idea of the country above this
convent, by comparing it to the finest parts of South Wales; the points
of difference are perhaps more numerous than those of resemblance: there
is more cultivation; the wood is carried higher up the mountains; and
the high rocky points above, are higher and more abrupt. In one respect
it is very different from anything in our country; the villages are on
the hill tops, and if you were to imagine Settle placed on the summit of
the High hills which rise behind it, or Giggleswick at the top of the
scar which bears its name, you will still have a very inadequate idea of
their situation. Defence and health have probably been the original
motives, but they must be very inconvenient places of residence. The
magnificence of this scenery increases as we proceed, and the valley
alternately contracted into passes, or dilated into basin-like hollows,
affords continual variety. The late wet weather had brought agriculture
to life again, and the inhabitants were busily employed in its labours.
The soil seems very rich, and there are fine, flat bottoms, which are
planted with maple trees supporting vines, and underneath these, various
crops, of which Indian corn is the principal. Some poles just put into
the ground are, as I was told, of a tree which yields sugar. This is
intended also to support the vines, but as there were no leaves, I could
not tell if it was the sugar maple. On the road side are some beautiful
springs, the supplies perhaps of some of the ancient aqueducts.
Subiaco stands on a rock quite at the extremity of the open part of the
valley; all beyond as far as I could see was mountain and ravine. I
asked for the Osteria, and was directed to a very good-looking house,
when a well-dressed man came up, and telling me I should get nothing
there, recommended me to another a little further on; I complied with
his advice, but on asking for some food at this latter place, the answer
was “_Non c’è niente._” I thought I had not gained much by the exchange,
but at last I succeeded in obtaining a _frittata_, and bread and cheese
and lettuce, and then set out to see the baths of Nero. In the way we
pass the remains of a very extensive building, which is said to have
been the palace of that emperor. The baths themselves consist of a few
vaults of no great interest, but the situation is remarkable, on the
edge of a deep and rocky ravine, in which runs the Teverone or Anio.
Tradition reports the lower part of this ravine to have been once a
lake, and indeed the circumstances of the place are such as might easily
suggest such an idea. The river passes through a break in the ridge of
limestone rock; and the opening, though it must be near 100 feet deep,
is not more than 20 or 30 wide. On the opposite side of this ravine
stands the convent of Santa Scolastica, most picturesquely placed, which
I visited the next morning in spite of the rain; and a little farther is
that of St. Benedict. Various caverns at different heights in the face
of an almost perpendicular rock, were ennobled by the retreat of St.
Benedict. The wall of the convent is built close against the lower part
of this rock, which retreats sufficiently to form commodious apartments
in the upper part of the building, and we find here a church of
considerable size, communicating by flights of steps, with a series of
chapels, which occupy the ancient caverns, of all of which the native
rock continues to make a part. The lowest of these chapels is I think at
least 60 feet below the church. The irregular disposition; the variety
of levels, several of which are seen frequently at one view; the broad
flights of steps by which they communicate with each other; the mixture
of natural grottos with the piers and vaults of Gothic architecture, all
of which are covered with paintings; together with the savage character
of the external scenery, combine to produce an effect, which is I
believe perfectly unique, and would be alone worth the trip to Subiaco.
Nor must we forget that the paintings themselves possess a double
interest, from the fine character and expression of many of the heads,
and from being some of the earliest specimens of the restoration of the
arts in Italy. At Santa Scolastica are some fragments taken from the
baths of Nero. Little columns about four feet and a half high, of rich
marbles, are attributed to this source. At St. Benedict I observed
nothing of the sort, but its architecture has another merit from the
introduction of the pointed arch in the eleventh century; yet Italy is
not the place for studying Gothic architecture. My guide to these places
was a youth, who reminded me so strongly of one of my English friends,
that I could hardly help speaking to him in English. On coming away, I
inquired for my bill, and this youth was sent up to me with the message,
“_Si crede che deve essere uno scudo._” An extravagant demand could
hardly be made more modestly, and it was extravagant in proportion to
the accommodation, and to what is usually paid in Italy. I returned for
answer, that I was willing to pay seven pauls, and the reply was that I
might pay what I pleased. The Italian innkeepers in these remote places
are ready enough to make an exorbitant demand, but they are equally
ready to retract, if they find that you know pretty well what ought to
be paid. Do not pretend to satisfy them; if they perceive that you
expect from them any acknowledgment of that sort, “_Signor, è poco_,”
would be the answer, should you give them ten times their due.
The weather continued very threatening, but I hired a mule to carry me
to Samida, twelve miles distant, half-way to Palestrina. The road
ascends the hills, and makes many a turn to preserve in some degree its
elevation, in passing from one village to another, and yet we seem to be
always going up or down. From this track we look down upon rich bottoms
of some extent; the sides of the hills are likewise in general of a
fertile loam, with only one or two sandy spots, and now and then a mass
of rock bursting from the slope. The road passes all the way through
vineyards, olive-grounds, corn-fields, meadows, and woods of chesnut.
The produce of the latter forms among the Apennines a very important
part of the food of the inhabitants, but the peasants were employed in
many cases in grubbing them up, to make room for a more profitable crop,
and that in situations, where the slopes were steeper and longer, than
in any cultivated ground I have ever seen in England. The distant views,
as the path attained the more elevated ground, presented a succession of
mountains of varied shapes, mostly covered with wood, but with a few
bare and rocky summits rising to a great height. Those we had seen from
Rome covered with snow, could be at no great distance, but the clouds
hung low, and either from this circumstance, or from my being too
closely surrounded by lower eminences, I saw nothing of them. It seemed
a very long and laborious ascent to Rocca San Stefano; but when there,
on looking up to the left, I saw another village on a point of rock far
above me. The road was in general a good mule-path, but there were some
bad spots. I left my mule at Samida, which is the highest point on the
road, and proceeded on foot to Genezano, which is situated on an
advancing point of rock, deep in the valley below. I was surprised to
find it so large and populous a place. The want of easy internal
communication prepares us to expect nothing but small towns in these
parts. What a difference good roads would make here! A gentleman at the
gate pressed me eagerly to take some refreshment with him, and as I had
some curiosity as well as he, I should certainly have accepted his
invitation, if it had not been getting late; and I was unwilling to
postpone my arrival at Palestrina, on account of the difficulty I
apprehended of obtaining accommodation for the night. I passed through
Cavi, and across a comparatively level country, at least, with only low
and fertile hills, instead of mountains; and intersected by winding
valleys, bounded by steep slopes. It was rich and woody; there was
however something about it which put me in mind of our manufacturing
districts. I found no difficulty in getting a lodging at Palestrina, and
I engaged a boy to shew me the objects of the neighbourhood for
twenty-five bajocchi per day, a bargain with which he was well pleased,
but like all the Italians, wanted something more than his agreement when
we parted.
The next day was principally spent in examining the remains of the
Temple of Fortune, for which this city was once celebrated. The temple
and its appendages must have been enormous. I mentioned to you having
seen at Paris, the drawings of this edifice by M. Huyot. He had traced
the existing remains with the greatest care, and finding that the
various edifices of which he determined the plans, were so placed as to
admit a corresponding series opposite to them, and in one or two cases
observing the vestiges of such correspondent buildings, he concluded the
whole to be on one uniform symmetrical plan, and imagined buildings for
whose existence there was hardly any evidence; however, everybody
acknowledges the care and accuracy with which he examined the present
ruins, and the judgment with which he has in general supplied the
deficiencies. The only fault found is, that in some instances he has
done too much. What remains of the decorative architecture corresponds
with that of the round temple at Tivoli; and is probably, as I have
already observed, of the time of Sylla. The rest consists of a
succession of terraces, some of which are raised upon vaults, and some
are supported by Cyclopean walls. These were the platforms on which the
temples (for there were several subordinate temples dedicated to other
divinities) and attendant edifices were erected. Of these accessory
edifices scarcely anything remains. The modern town stands on the site
of this extensive building, and does not even occupy the whole of it.
The gardens belonging to the prince Barberini are placed on part of one
of the lower terraces, and are partly supported on seven great vaults,
each above 100 feet long, and more than 20 feet wide; they are lofty,
but do not appear to have been erected for any other purpose than the
support of the terrace. The middle of this terrace would have rested on
firm ground, but the other extremity wanted, and probably had, supports
of a similar nature, which are now destroyed. Wherever we turn ourselves
in Palestrina, we find fragments of antiquity. The lower terrace was
perhaps an addition of some of the emperors. A great deal was no doubt
the work of Sylla, and some other parts were probably of an earlier
date. We find here a considerable quantity of the _opus incertum_; and
besides the capitals and bases, which resemble those of the temple of
Vesta at Tivoli, there is a peculiar Ionic entablature, with very narrow
dentils. Above the rest is a large semicircular wall, which now makes
part of the foundation of the palace of the prince Barberini; and in the
middle of this there is a small circular edifice, which M. Huyot
considers as also built upon the ancient foundations, but I could not
obtain any direct evidence for this opinion. If it were really the case,
it must have been the principal object; the cell or adytum of the temple
of Fortune itself; a very small centre to so large a mass of building. I
know of no other example either of ancient or modern times where so
great a number of edifices, and occupying so great an extent, were
combined into one regular and symmetrical plan; and our admiration is
still increased when we consider that it was necessary, not only to
erect the building, but absolutely to build a place for it to stand on.
I doubt after all, if it ever were a handsome fabric, and certainly at
present, it cannot boast much attraction as an object merely of beauty.
A fragment below it, called the Temple of the Sun, is a picturesque
object, and might be united with an admirable landscape, the spectator
looking towards Monte Albano; but like a great many other ruins, it
stands in a vineyard, where the vines prevent any good view from within
its circuit; and standing on the outside, the high enclosure hides a
great part of the building. I forgot to mention a curious mosaic in the
palace of prince Barberini, supposed to represent the animals of Egypt.
The name of each is written in Greek characters underneath the figure.
There are also representations of buildings, but if they are not given
more faithfully than the animals, there is not much to be learned from
them in architecture. After a hasty look over the different fragments in
this temple, I went to some other Cyclopean walls, running obliquely up
the hill. The antiquaries say that these were prior to the erection of
the ancient Præneste, which was built at the foot of the hill below the
present town. Præneste, according to Virgil, was just founded when Æneas
landed in Italy. About three fourths of a mile from the town is another
temple of the Sun, or at least, what my Cicerone called by that name,
but I suspect he made a mistake, and did not report correctly the
tradition of the place. After this we took a walk to what is called the
Palace of Constantine. The ruins consist of numerous vaults and
foundations, very much in the style of those about Tivoli, and probably
much earlier than Constantine. A church has since been erected upon
them. At Palestrina I lived upon pigeons, for which the place is famous;
they are so large that I found one of them a good dinner. On the 29th I
took my place for Rome in a sort of stage, which does not go with
perfect regularity. The conversation was very much about a certain
Barbone, who had committed great depredations in the vicinity; and of
other robbers, and robberies, but we had two soldiers in the party, and
thought that we had nothing to fear. These robbers are said to have
increased under the government of the French: the peasantry here hated
it, and to avoid the conscription and other oppressions, they retired to
their mountains, and took up this trade, which they are now unwilling to
abandon, and the mistaken lenity of the papal government encourages them
to persevere. I have passed no uninhabited tracts, such as the fancy
represents to us as the abode of banditti, but I suppose there are many
such among the mountains. Part of the modern road to Rome runs on the
pavement of the ancient Via Palestrina, but whatever are its merits in
solidity and durability, it is not convenient. Its too smooth and even
surface does not afford a sure footing to the horses.
LETTER XXXVII.
TUSCULUM, ALBANO, OSTIA.
_Rome, 18th June, 1817._
AFTER my return from Palestrina, I stayed but a few days in Rome, and
again set out to visit other places in the neighbourhood. In that
interval I was present at a procession to obtain rain; as the wet which
I found so inconvenient at Tivoli and Subiaco, does not seem to have
reached the vicinity of Rome. The Piazza in front of St. Peter’s was
decorated by posts bound round with oak branches, and the portico of the
church hung with crimson damask, striped with gold. The poor pope was
carried round the square, kneeling, and leaning indeed upon cushions,
but entirely wrapt up, except the head, in hot and heavy garments, and
immoveable; he did not appear in health, and everybody seemed to
compassionate him: it is a pity a wax figure could not be substituted in
his place. The procession afterwards entered the church, but there was
nothing remarkable in the ceremonies.
I am surprised at your incredulity about St. Peter’s toe. It is
considerably worn; I intended for your satisfaction to have measured
precisely the waste, but I have not yet done it. The marble foot of
Michael Angelo’s Christ in the Minerva, was so much worn, that it was
deemed necessary to give it a brass slipper, which begins to feel the
effects of this mode of devotion; yet for one kiss on this, St. Peter
must have ten. It is not however exclusively by kissing; the devotees
rub it with their hands, and apply it to the forehead, before and after
putting their lips to it.
My next excursion began with Frascati, where I went in a diligence of
the same nature as those which run to Tivoli and Palestrina. We observed
as usual, from the road, a variety of ruins, and among others, some very
extensive ones at the foot of the hill, supposed to be the remains of
the villa of Lucullus, but with considerable restorations of a later
date. Frascati is situated on a considerable ascent, though the hill
continues to rise still more behind it. At the lower part of the
declivity are the remains of two villas; and at a convent a little below
the town, some very extensive substructions, which dispute with those
already mentioned, the honour of being the villa of Lucullus. I found
here a _locanda_, or sort of lodging-house, and nearly opposite to it a
_trattoria_. It is astonishing that places so much frequented as these
about Rome, should be so deficient in good inns. I spent the afternoon
in looking at some of the villas immediately above the town, and
enjoying the beauty of the scenery; and the next morning walked to
Grotto Ferrata, a delightful path, through groves of different species
of oak (_Quercus Robur_, _Cerris_, and _Ilex_) with frequent catches of
the Campagna, but without that full exposure which its naked barrenness
makes disagreeable. Grotto Ferrata is a convent seated on the edge of a
little valley, with some foundations, which are said to have belonged to
the villa of Cicero, and boasts some very beautiful frescos of
Domenichino, particularly the celebrated demoniac boy. I continued my
walk as far as Marino, to see some other paintings, one of which is an
admirable production of Guercino. In returning, I followed a road higher
up the hill, but it would have been better to have kept lower down,
where several fragments of antiquity are distinguishable.
My next walk was to Tusculum, which belongs to Lucien Buonaparte; the
villa in which he usually resides is called Rufanelli. On the road, I
stopt at a convent to see a crucifix painted by Guido; a little figure
about six inches long painted upon a cross; and a St. Francis, by Paul
Brill, which is uncommonly fine for him. The villa at Rufanelli commands
a very fine view, but it is rather too elevated for picturesque beauty.
About it are numerous fragments of architecture, which Lucien Buonaparte
has dug up in the neighbourhood, but they are not generally in a good
style. The excavations at present in hand are at the top of the hill,
where the ancient town stood. There are vestiges of an amphitheatre,
called by the people the school of Cicero, and some more interesting
remains of a theatre, while in every part we see fragments of ancient
foundations. The town was destroyed only about the year 1200, which
seems almost to bring it into modern times; but these places which
continue to occupy for long a period their ancient situations, are not
the most favourable for antiquities. Continual changes, adapting the
buildings to new purposes, destroy the ancient arrangement. The great
rage for altering and renewing everything does not however seem to have
taken place in Italy till the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when
new churches, new convents, and new palaces, consumed the old materials
with great rapidity. The ancient columns were then removed to new
positions, and what was left either of Roman or Gothic, was buried in
new walls, or under new decorations. We trace here the ancient streets,
and can fix the position of two gates. Beyond the further gate there is
a portion of the ancient city wall, of squared stones, which however
divides singularly into two parts, and both parts are afterwards lost
among reticulated work. Just at the division there are an ancient
reservoir and fountain. The reservoir is covered with two sloping stones
instead of a vault. Many curious little particulars have been discovered
in these excavations, which are very interesting to a person on the
spot, when the mind is excited and directed to the subject. Much of the
earth thrown out from them is as complete a cinder, as if it were just
ejected from Vesuvius, and the direction of the hills is such, that we
might easily fancy them surrounding an enormous crater, from which the
present Monte Cavo has arisen.