Rome.
Frescati is an agreeable village, on the declivity of a hill, about
twelve miles from Rome. It derives its name from the coolness of the
air, and _fresh_ verdure of the fields around. It is a bishop’s see,
and always possessed by one of the six eldest Cardinals. At present it
belongs to the Cardinal Duke of York, who, whether in the country or at
Rome, 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;
and who, living himself in great simplicity, and not in the usual style
of Cardinals, spends a large proportion of his revenue in acts of charity
and benevolence; _the world forgetting, by the world forgot_, except by
those who enjoy the comforts of life through his bounty.
Tivoli was the favourite residence of the ancient Romans. The moderns
give the preference to Frescati, in whose neighbourhood some of the most
magnificent villas in Italy are situated.
The villa Aldobrandini, called also Belvedere, is the most remarkable,
on account of its fine situation, extensive gardens, airy terraces, its
grottos, cascades, and waterworks. Over a saloon, near the grand cascade,
is the following inscription:
HUC EGO MIGRAVI MUSIS COMITATUS APOLLO,
HIC DELPHI, HIC HELICON, HIC MIHI DELOS ERIT.
The walls are adorned with a representation of Apollo and the Muses;
and some of that God’s adventures are painted in Fresco by Domenichino,
particularly the manner in which he treated Marsyas. This, in my humble
opinion, had better been omitted; both because it is a disagreeable
subject for a picture, and because it does no honour to Apollo. Marsyas
unquestionably was an object of contempt and ridicule, on account of
his presumption; but the punishment said to have been inflicted on him
exceeds all bounds, and renders the inflictor more detestable in our
eyes than the insolent satyr himself. This story is so very much out
of character, and so unlike the elegant god of poetry and music, that
I am inclined to suspect it is not true. There is a report, equally
incredible, which has been propagated by malicious people concerning his
sister Diana; I do not mean her rencounter with Actæon, for the Goddess
of Chastity may, without inconsistency, be supposed cruel, but it is
quite impossible to reconcile her general character with the stories of
her nocturnal visits to Endymion.
The villa Ludovisi is remarkable for its gardens and waterworks. The
hills on which Frescati is situated, afford great abundance of water, a
circumstance of which the owners of those villas have profited, all of
them being ornamented with fountains, cascades, or waterworks of some
kind or other.
The villa Taverna, belonging to the Prince Borghese, is one of the finest
and best furnished of any in the neighbourhood of Rome. From this you
ascend through gardens to Monte Dracone, another palace on a more lofty
situation, belonging also to that Prince, and deriving its name from the
arms of his family. The ancient city of Tusculum is supposed to have
stood on the spot, or very near it, where Frescati now is built; and at
the distance of about a mile and a half, it is generally believed, was
the Tusculan villa of Cicero, at a place now called Grotta Ferrata. Some
Greek monks of the order of St. Basil, flying from the persecution of the
Saracens in the eleventh century, were permitted to build a convent on
the ruins of Cicero’s famous house. They still perform the service in the
Greek language.
Whichever way you walk from Frescati, you have the most delightful
scenes before you. I passed two very agreeable days, wandering through
the gardens and from villa to villa. The pleasure of our party was not a
little augmented by the observations of Mr. B——, a lively old gentleman
from Scotland, a man of worth but no antiquarian, and indeed no admirer
of any thing, ancient or modern, which has not some relation to his
native country; but to ballance that indifference, he feels the warmest
regard for every thing which has. We extended our walks as far as the
lake of Nemi, a bason of water lying in a very deep bottom, about four
miles in circumference, whose surrounding hills are covered with tall and
shady trees. Here
Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
A death-like silence, and a dread repose;
Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
Shades every flower, and darkens every green.
I never saw a place more formed for contemplation and solemn ideas. In
ancient times there was a temple here sacred to Diana. The lake itself
was called Speculum Dianæ, and Lacus Triviæ, and is the place mentioned
in the seventh Book of the Æneid, where the Fury Alecto is described
blowing the trumpet of war, at whose dreadful sound the woods and
mountains shook, and mothers, trembling for their children, pressed them
to their bosoms.
Contremuit nemus, et sylvæ intonuere profundæ,
Audiit et triviæ longe lacus——[7]
Et trepidæ matres pressere ad pectora natus.
We returned by Gensano, Marino, La Riccia, and Castel Gondolfo. All the
villages and villas I have named communicate with each other by fine
walks and avenues of lofty trees, whose intermingling branches form a
continued shade for the traveller. Castel Gondolfo is a little village
near the lake Albano, on one extremity of which is a castle, belonging
to his Holiness, from which the village takes its name; there is nothing
remarkably fine in this villa, except its situation. Near the village
of Castel Gondolfo, is the villa Barbarini, 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 Albano is an oval
piece of water of about seven or eight miles circumference, whose margin
is finely adorned with groves and trees of various verdure, beautifully
reflected from the transparent bosom of the lake; and which, with the
surrounding hills, and the Castel Gondolfo which crowns one of them, has
a fine picturesque effect.
The grand scale on which the beauties of nature appear in Switzerland
and the Alps, has been considered by some, as too vast for the pencil;
but among the sweet hills and vallies of Italy, her features are brought
nearer the eye, are fully seen and understood, and appear in all the
bloom of rural loveliness. Tivoli, Albano, and Frescati, therefore,
are the favourite abodes of the landscape-painters who travel to this
country for improvement; and in the opinion of some, those delightful
villages furnish studies better suited to the powers of their art, than
even Switzerland itself. Nothing can surpass the admirable assemblage of
hills, meadows, lakes, cascades, gardens, ruins, groves, and terraces,
which charm the eye, as you wander among the shades of Frescati and
Albano, which appear in new beauty as they are viewed from different
points, and captivate the beholder with endless variety. One reflection
obtrudes itself on the mind, and disturbs the satisfaction which such
pleasing scenes would otherwise produce; it arises from beholding the
poverty of infinitely the greater part of the inhabitants of those
villages—Not that they seem miserable or discontented—a few roasted
chesnuts, and some bunches of grapes, which they may have for a penny,
will maintain them; but the easier they are satisfied, and the less
repining they are, the more earnestly do we wish that they were better
provided for. Good heavens! why should so much be heaped on a few, whom
profusion cannot satisfy; while a bare competency is withheld from
multitudes, whom penury cannot render discontented?
The most commanding view is from the garden of a convent of Capucins, at
no great distance from Albano. Directly before you is the lake, with the
mountains 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 you have 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 Apennines,
and the Mediterranean.
While we contemplated all these objects with pleasure and admiration,
an English gentleman of the party said to Mr. B——, “There is not a
prospect equal to this in all France or Germany, and not any superior
even in England.” “That I well believe,” replied the Caledonian; “but
if I had you in Scotland, I could shew you several with which this is
by no means to be compared.” “Indeed! Pray in what part of Scotland are
they to be seen?” “I presume you never was at the castle of Edinburgh,
Sir?” “Never.” “Or at Stirling?” “Never.” “Did you ever see Loch Lomond,
Sir?” “I never did.” “I suppose I need not ask, whether you have ever
been in Aberdeenshire, or the Highlands, or—” “I must confess once for
all,” interrupted the Englishman, “that I have the misfortune never to
have seen any part of Scotland.” “Then I am not surprised,” said the
Scot, taking a large pinch of snuff, “that you think this the finest
view you ever saw.” “I presume you think those in Scotland a great deal
finer?” “A very great deal indeed, Sir; why that lake, for example, is
a pretty thing enough; I dare swear, many an English nobleman would
give a good deal to have such another before his house; but Loch Lomond
is thirty miles in length, Sir! there are above twenty islands in it,
Sir! that is a lake for you. As for their desert of a Campagna, as they
call it, no man who has eyes in his head, Sir, will compare it to the
fertile valley of Stirling, with the Forth, the most beautiful river
in Europe, twining through it.” “Do you really in your conscience
imagine,” said the Englishman, “that the Forth is a finer river than the
Thames?” “The Thames!” exclaimed the North Briton, “Why, my dear Sir,
the Thames at London is a mere gutter, in comparison of the Firth of
Forth at Edinburgh.” “I suppose then,” said the Englishman, recovering
himself, “you do not approve of the view from Windsor Castle?” “I ask
your pardon,” replied the other; “I approve of it very much; it is an
exceeding pretty kind of a prospect; the country appears from it as
agreeable to the sight as any plain flat country, crowded with trees,
and intersected by enclosures, can well do; but I own I am of opinion,
that mere fertile fields, woods, rivers, and meadows, can never, of
themselves, perfectly satisfy the eye.” “You imagine, no doubt,” said the
Englishman, “that a few heath-covered mountains and rocks embellish a
country very much?” “I am precisely of that opinion,” said the Scot; “and
you will as soon convince me that a woman may be completely beautiful
with fine eyes, good teeth, and a fair complexion, though she should
not have a _nose_ on her face, as that a landscape, or country, can be
completely beautiful without a mountain.” “Well, but here are mountains
enough,” resumed the other; “look around you.” “Mountains!” cried the
Caledonian, “very pretty mountains, truly! They call that Castel Gondolfo
of theirs a castle too, and a palace, forsooth! but does that make it
a residence fit for a Prince?” “Why, upon my word, I do not think it
much amiss,” said the other; “it looks full as well as the palace of St.
James’s.” “The palace of St. James’s,” exclaimed the Scot, “is a scandal
to the nation; it is both a shame and a sin, that so great a monarch as
the King of Scotland, England, and Ireland, with his Royal consort,
and their large family of small children, should live in a shabby old
cloister, hardly good enough for monks. The palace of Holyrood-house,
indeed, is a residence meet for a king.” “And the gardens; pray what sort
of gardens have you belonging to that palace?” said the Englishman; “I
have been told you do not excel in those.” “But we excel in gardeners,”
replied the other, “which are as much preferable as the creator is
preferable to the created.” “I am surprised, however,” rejoined the
South Briton, “that, in a country like yours, where there are so many
creators, so very few fruit-gardens are created.” “Why, Sir, it is not
to be expected,” said Mr. B——, “that anyone country will excel in every
thing. Some enjoy a climate more favourable for peaches, and vines, and
nectarines; but, by G—, Sir, no country on earth produces better men and
women than Scotland.” “I dare say none does,” replied the other. “So
as France excels in wines, England in wool and oxen, Arabia in horses,
and other countries in other animals, you imagine Scotland excels all
others in the human species.” “What I said, Sir, was, that the human
species in no country excel those in Scotland; and that I assert again,
and will maintain, Sir, to my last gasp.” “I do not intend to deny it,”
said the Englishman; “but you will permit me to observe, that, men
being its staple commodity, it must be owned that Scotland carries on
a brisk trade; for I know no country that has a greater _exportation_;
you will find Scotchmen in all the countries of the world.” “So much the
better for all the countries of the world,” said Mr. B——; “for every
body knows that the Scotch cultivate and improve the arts and sciences
wherever they go.” “They certainly improve their own fortunes wherever
they go,” rejoined the other;—“like their gardeners, though they can
create little or nothing at home, they often create very good fortunes
in other countries; and this is one reason of our having the pleasure of
so much of their company in London.” “Whether it affords you pleasure
or not, Sir, nothing can be more certain,” replied the Scot in the most
serious tone, “than that you may _improve_ very much by their company and
example. But there are various reasons,” continued he, “for so many of
my countrymen sojourning in London. That city is now, in some measure,
the capital of Scotland as well as of England. The seat of government is
there; the King of Scotland, as well as of England, resides there; the
Scotch nobility and gentry have as good a right to be near the person
of their Sovereign as the English; and you must allow, that, if some
Scotchmen make fortunes in England, many of our best estates are also
spent there. But you mean to say, that the Scotch, in general, are poor
in comparison of the English. This we do not deny, and cannot possibly
forget, your countrymen refresh our memories with it so often. We allow,
therefore, that you have this advantage over us;—and the Persians had the
same over the Macedonians at the battle of Arbela. But, whether Scotland
be poor or rich, those Scots who settle in England must carry industry,
talents, or wealth with them, otherwise they will starve there as well
as elsewhere; and when one country draws citizens of this description
from another, I leave you to judge which has the most reason to complain.
And let me tell you, Sir, upon the whole, the advantages which England
derives from the Union, are manifest and manifold.” “I cannot say,”
replied the Englishman, “that I have thought much on this subject; but
I shall be obliged to you if you will enumerate a few of them.” “In the
first place,” resumed the Scot, “Has she not greatly increased in wealth
since that time?” “She has so,” replied the other, smiling, “and I never
knew the _real cause_ before.” “In the next place, Has she not acquired
a million and a half of subjects, who otherwise would have been with her
enemies? For this, _and other reasons_, they are equivalent to three
millions. In the third place, Has she not acquired security? without
which riches are of no value. There is no door open _now_, Sir, by which
the French can enter into your country. They dare as soon be d—— as
attempt to invade Scotland; so if you can defend your own coast, there is
no fear of you; but without a perfect union with Scotland, England could
not enjoy the principal benefit she derives from her insular situation.”
“Not till Scotland should be subdued,” said the Englishman. “Subdued!”
repeated the astonished Scot; “let me tell you, Sir, _that_ is a very
strange hypothesis; the fruitless attempts of many centuries might have
taught you that the thing is impossible; and, if you are conversant in
history, you will find, that, after the decline of the Roman Empire,
the course of conquest was from _the North to the South_.” “You mean,”
said the South Briton, “that Scotland would have conquered England.”
“Sir,” replied the other, “I think the English as brave a nation as ever
existed, and therefore I will not say that the Scotch are braver; far
less shall I assert, that _they_, consisting of only a fifth part of
the numbers, could subdue the English; but I am sure, that rather than
submit they would try; and you will admit that the trial would be no
advantage to either country.” “Although I am fully convinced,” said the
Englishman, “how the experiment would end, I should be sorry to see it
made, particularly at this time.” “Yet, Sir,” rejoined the Scot, “there
are people of your country, as I am told, who, even at _this time_,
endeavour to exasperate the minds of the inhabitants of one part of
Great Britain against the natives of the other, and to create dissension
between two countries, whose mutual safety depends on their good
agreement; two countries whom Nature herself, by separating them from
the rest of the world, and encircling them with her azure bond of union,
seems to have intended for one.” “I do assure you, my good Sir,” said the
English Gentleman, “I am not of the number of those who wish to raise
such dissension. I love the Scotch; I always thought them a sensible and
gallant people; and some of the most valued friends I have on earth, are
of your country.” “You are a man of honour and discernment,” said the
Caledonian, seizing him eagerly by the hand; “and I protest, without
prejudice or partiality, that I never knew a man of that character who
was not of your way of thinking.”
[7] The intervening words are cold, and not much connected with
the fine line which concludes the quotation.