factious nobles; and at last convulsed by the unnatural contests between her emperors and her pontiffs, she assumed by turns the appearance of a fortress besieged or taken; her edifices, sacred and profane, ancient and modern, were demolished without distinction, and her streets and churches were strewed with the bodies of her inhabitants.

To these bloody divisions succeeded the absence of the popes, and their very impolitic residence at Avignon, at a distance from the seat of their spiritual authority and of their temporal dominion, which in the mean time was abandoned to the intrigues of a domineering nobility, and to the insurrections of a factious populace. During this period, the reign of anarchy, the few monuments of antiquity that remained were turned into forts and castles, and disfigured with towers and Gothic battlements; the country was overrun with banditti, and the city itself convulsed and defiled with perpetual scenes of violence and bloodshed.

At length the Pontiff returned to his See; and after some struggles a regular government was established: Julius the Second, a stern and arbitrary prince suppressed anarchy: the arts began to revive, architecture was restored, a Leo rose, and Rome, even ancient Rome, might have expected the return of her Augustan glory. But such an expectation would have been ill-founded: the very restoration of the arts, while it contributed to the splendor of modern Rome, was the last blow that fate gave to the magnificence of the ancient city. While new temples and new palaces arose, the remains of ancient edifices disappeared; and posterity still laments that the Perizonium was demolished, the Coliseum deformed, and the Pantheon plundered, to supply materials or ornaments for the Farnesian and Barbarini palaces, and for the new Basilica of St. Peter. With regard to the latter, the man of taste and the lover of antiquity, as Gibbon justly observes, will perhaps pardon the theft; as it contributed to the triumph of modern genius, and to the decoration of the noblest edifice that human art has ever erected. But to plunder the venerable monuments of impérial greatness, in order to deck the mansions of two upstart families, was a sacrilege justly reprobated by the satirical lampoons of the indignant Romans.

We have now, I think, enumerated the principal causes of the destruction of Rome, very different from those assigned by the poet; and if to the neglect of emperors, the indifference of magistrates, the rapacity of individuals, the rage of contesting factions, and the impoverishment of the city, we add the silent stroke of mouldering Time, we shall have the list of destruction complete. The few edifices that still survive, owe their existence either to the protecting hand of religion that warded, or to their own solidity which defied, the blow levelled at their majestic forms by age or by malevolence. Some instances of the former have already been

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given; of the latter, besides the tombs of Cestius and Metella, the columns of Trajan and Antoninus stand most magnificent examples. These superb columns are of the same materials, the finest white marble, of nearly the same height, about one hundred and twenty feet; and of the same decorations, as a series of sculpture winds in a spiral line from the base to the capital of each, representing the wars and triumphs of the respective emperors. They formerly supported each a colossal statue of Trajan and Antoninus; these have long since disappeared, while St. Peter and St. Paul have been substituted in their stead, though very improperly, as the bloody scenes and profane sacrifices portrayed on the shafts beneath, are ill adapted to the character and pacific virtues of apostles. However, notwithstanding the impropriety of the situation, the picturesque effect is the same, especially as the modern statues are probably of the same size, and if we may judge by medals, placed in the same attitude as the ancient.

To the question which I have here attempted to answer, one more may be added. It may be asked, what is now become of the rich materials, the bronze, the marbles employed in the statues, pillars, and decorations of this vast scene of grandeur? The bronze has

The Columna Trajana is formed of thirty-four blocks of white marble, eight of which are employed in the pedestal, one in the base (or torus) twenty-three in the shaft, one in the capital, and one in the summit that supports the statue. This celebrated column yields to the monument of London in elevation, but it surpasses that and all similar pillars in the admirable sculptures that adorn all its members. There are two thousand five hundred human figures, of two feet average height; besides the scenes in which they are engaged, and the horses, standards, machinery, etc. with which they are accompanied. It is a complete representation of Roman military dresses, evolutions, standards, and edifices, and it has supplied all the most eminent artists, whether painters or sculptors, with most of their attitudes and graces. This column, one of the most ancient and most perfect monuments of Roman art and power united, has been exposed twice to the probable danger of destruction; once when a Dutch artist proposed to the Roman government at an expense not exceeding fifteen hundred pounds, to take it down in order to raise its pedestal, which is now near twenty feet under the modern level of the city, and again re-erect it in a more conspicuous situation. Even though such precautions were to be taken, as to preclude the possibility of accident, yet the very removal of such masses of marble could not be effected without detriment to the sculpture. The second danger was of a far more alarming nature, and occurred while the French were masters of Rome during the late invasion. The Directory, it seems, had conceived the project of transporting both the Columna Trajana and Antonina to Paris, and measures were taken to ascertain the possibility of realizing this project of robbery and devastation. Fortunately their expulsion from Rome prevented the execution of this and some other enterprises equally just and honorable. Francis the First, in the happier days of France, conceived the nobler and more honorable design of adorning the French capital with a copy of this noble monument in bronze, and the present ruler of France, has, it is said, raised in the Place Vendome, at Paris, a rival column, representing his German victories in brass. This latter design is neither unjust nor unimperial.

The Columna Antonini is inferior in the beauty and perfection of sculpture to that of Trajan: it is also formed of blocks of marble, twenty-eight in number, and in every respect an imitation of the latter.

always been an object of plunder or of theft, and of course equally coveted by the rapacious barbarians and the impoverished Romans. It was therefore diligently sought for, and consequently soon disappeared. Besides, though employed with profusion, and even with prodigality, yet its sum total was definite, and easily exhaustible, particularly when every research was made to discover, and every method used to obtain it. The quantity of granite and marble that decorated ancient Rome is almost incalculable. If we may be allowed to judge by the marble plan which I have alluded to more than once, we should be inclined to imagine that its streets were lined with porticos, and formed an endless succession of colonnades. The shafts of the pillars were generally formed of one single piece or block, whatsoever their height might have been, an advantage equally calculated to secure them against the influence of time, and the attacks of wanton destruction.

Of statues, if we may believe the elder Pliny, the number was equal to that of inhabitants, and seems in fact, to have been sufficient not only to fill the temples, basilicæ, and curiæ, but to crowd the streets, and almost people the porticos and public walks. These statues when of marble, fortunately for their duration, were beheld by all parties with indifference; and when not immediately within the verge of warlike operations, allowed to stand undisturbed on their pedestals, or fall unsupported and forgotten into the mass of rubbish around them. That this was the case we may conclude, from the places where several beautiful statues were found, such as the baths of Titus and Caracalla, where they stood for ages exposed to depredation, and were only concealed in latter times by the fall of the buildings around them. The pillars met with a different fate; some were conveyed by the Exarchs to Ravenna, others transported by Charlemagne beyond the Alps, and thousands have been employed in the churches and palaces of the modern city. In reality ancient Rome has been for twelve centuries a quarry ever open and never exhausted; and the stranger, as he wanders through the streets of the modern city, is astonished to see, sometimes thrown neglected into corners, and often collected round the shops, or in the yards of stone-cutters, shafts, capitals, parts of broken cornices, and in short, blocks of the finest marbles, all dug out of the ruins in the neighborhood.

Yet, notwithstanding the waste and havoc of these materials, made in the manner I have described, and by the causes I have enumerated, I am inclined to think that the far greater portion still remains buried amidst the ruins, or entombed under the edifices of the modern city. The columns carried away to ornament other cities, bear a small proportion to the numbers left behind, and of these latter, the number employed in the decorations of buildings now existing, will appear a very slight deduction from the remains of ancient magnificence, when we consider that the

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great churches at Rome, that is all the buildings where there is any display of pillars or marbles, were erected in the days of Roman glory, before the invasion of Italy and the wars of the Goths. Their ornaments therefore with a few exceptions, were not drawn from the ruins of ancient Rome: they are monuments of its glory, but have not shared its plunder.

The elevation of the ground over the whole extent of the city, amounting in general to the height of from fourteen to twenty feet, and the many little hills which have risen in various parts of the Campus Martius, especially on the sites of theatres and baths, and other extensive buildings, sufficiently shew what a mass of ruin lies extended below. Few excavations have been made in this artificial soil, without terminating in some interesting discovery; and it has frequently happened that in sinking a well, or in opening the foundations of a private house, the masons have been stopped by the interposing bulk of a pillar or an obelisk. One of the latter was discovered thrice, and as often buried again in rubbish, before it was raised by Benedict XIV. The payement of the Forum is well known to exist about fourteen feet under the present level, and several of the thermæ remain still unopened. The portico of Trajan lies near twenty feet under the foundations of churches and convents. 'What treasures of art may not be contained in these mines, hitherto unexplored! What beautiful forms of sculpture and architecture may still slumber in this immense cemetery of ancient magnificence!

Should the Roman government, when the present convulsions shall have subsided into tranquillity, acquire energy and means adequate to such an undertaking, it may perhaps turn its attention to an object so worthy of it, and the classic traveller may entertain the fond hope, that the veil which has so long concealed the beauties of the ancient city, may be in part removed, and some grand features of Roman magnificence once more exposed to view. At least, the materials of many a noble structure may re-appear, many a long fallen column be taught again to seek the skies, and many a god, and many a hero, emerge from darkness, once more ascend their lofty pedestals, and challenge the admiration of future generations. But when these pleasing hopes may be realized it is difficult to determine. Rome and all Italy crouch under the iron sway of the First Consul; how he intends to model her various governments, and on whom he may hereafter bestow her coronets, crowns, and tiaras, is a secret confined to his own bosom in the mean time, public confidence languishes, every grand undertaking is suspended, and it would be absurd to squander away expense and labor in recovering statues and marbles, which may be instantly ordered to Paris, to grace the palace of the Tuileries, or to enrich the gal

* St. Peter's excepted.

leries of the Louvre. The genius of the ancient city must still brood in darkness over her ruins, and wait the happy day, if such a day be ever destined to shine on Italy, when the invaders may be once more driven beyond the Alps, all barbarian influence be removed, and the talents and ability of the country left to act with all their native energy.'

CHAPTER XIII.

MODERN ROME.

Its Population-Streets-Squares-Fountains-Tombs-Palaces.

THE modern city, as the reader must have already observed, possesses many features of ancient Rome. The same roads lead to her gates from the extremities of Italy-the same aqueducts pour the same streams into her fountains-the same great churches that received the masters of the world under the Flavian and Theodosian lines, are still open to their descendants-and the same venerable walls that enclosed so many temples and palaces in the reign of Aurelian, still lift their antique towers around the same circumference. Within this circumference, "Modern Rome" lies extended principally on the plain, and scattered thinly over the hills, bordered by villas, gardens, and vineyards. Its population amounted to one hundred and eighty, or perhaps two hundred thousand souls previous to the French invasion, which, by empoverishing the country, and severing from the capital one of its richest provinces, is said to have diminished the number of inhabitants by twenty, or even thirty thousand. The streets are well built and well paved, narrower in general than those in London, and wider than those in Paris; but (as the houses are not too high) they are light and airy, often very long and straight, and not unfrequently terminated by an obelisk, a fountain, or a church. Such are the three streets which diverge from the Porta, or rather Piazza del Popolo; the Corso, anciently the Via Lata, terminating at the foot of the Capitol; the Strada del Babuino, ending in the Piazza de Spagna, and the

A medal was found not long ago, I think near the Capitol, with the form of a hero crowned with laurel, extending a sword, with the inscription, Adsertori Libertatis, (To the champion of liberty,) on one side, and Rome seated, with the inscription, Roma resurges, (Rome, thou shalt rise again,) on the reverse. May Italy ere long have cause to strike a similar medal.