Rome.
Those who have a real pleasure in contemplating the remains of antique, and the noblest specimens of modern architecture, who are struck with the inimitable delicacy and expression of Greek sculpture, and wish to compare it with the most successful efforts of the moderns, and who have an unwearied admiration of the charms of painting, may, provided they have not more important avocations elsewhere, employ a full year with satisfaction in this city.
What is called a regular course with an Antiquarian, generally takes up about six weeks; employing three hours a-day, you may, in that time, visit all the churches, palaces, villas, and ruins, worth seeing, in or near Rome. But after having made thiscourse, however distinctly every thing may have been explained by the Antiquarian, if you do not visit the most interesting again and again, and reflect on them at more leisure, your labour will be of little use; for the objects are so various, and those you see on one day, so apt to be effaced by, or confounded with, those you behold on another, that you must carry away a very faint and indistinct recollection of any. Many travellers have experienced the truth of this observation.
One young English gentleman, who happens not to be violently smitten with the charms of virtù, and scorns to affect what he does not feel, thought that two or three hours a-day, for a month or six weeks together, was rather too much time to bestow on a pursuit in which he felt no pleasure, and saw very little utility. The only advantage which, in his opinion, the greater part of us reaped from our six weeks tour, was, that wecould say, we hadseen a great many fine things which he had not seen. This was a superiority which he could not brook, and which he resolved we should not long enjoy. Being fully convinced, that the business might be, with a little exertion, dispatched in a very short space of time, he prevailed on a proper person to attend him; ordered a post-chaise and four horses to be ready early in the morning, and driving through churches, palaces, villas, and ruins, with all possible expedition, he fairly saw, in two days, all that we had beheld during our crawling course of six weeks. I found afterwards, by the list he kept of what he had seen, that we had not the advantage of him in a single picture, or the most mutilated remnant of a statue.
I do not propose this young gentleman’s plan, as the very best possible; but of this I am certain, that he can give as satisfactory an account of the curiosities of Rome, as some people of my acquaintance whoviewed them withequalsensibility, and at a great deal more leisure.
Those travellers who cannot remain a considerable time at Rome, would do well to get a judicious list of the most interesting objects in architecture, sculpture, and painting, that are to be seen here; they ought to visit these frequently, and these only, by which means they will acquire a strong and distinct impression of what they see; instead of that transient and confused idea which a vast number of things, viewed superficially, and in a hurry, leave in the mind. After they have examined, with due attention, the most magnificent and best preserved remains of ancient architecture, very few have satisfaction in viewing a parcel of old bricks, which, they are told, formed the foundation of the baths of some of the Emperors. And there are not many who would regret their not having seen great numbers of statues and pictures of inferior merit, when they had beheld allthat are universally esteemed the best. Would it not be highly judicious, therefore, in the greatest number of travellers, without abridging the usual time of the course, to make it much less comprehensive?
Besides churches, there are about thirty palaces in Rome, as full of pictures as the walls can bear. The Borghese Palace alone is said to contain above sixteen hundred, all original. There are also ten or twelve villas in the neighbourhood of this city, which are usually visited by strangers. You may judge from this, what a task they undertake, who resolve to go through the whole; and what kind of an idea they are likely to carry away, who perform this task during a stay of a few months. Of the villas, the Pineiana, which belongs to the Borghese family, is the most remarkable. I shall confine myself to a few cursory remarks on some of the most esteemed curiosities it contains. The Hermaphrodite,of which you have seen so many prints and models, is accounted by many, one of the finest pieces of sculpture in the world. The mattress, upon which this fine figure reclines, is the work of the Cavalier Bernini, and nothing can be more admirably executed. Some critics say, he has performed his tasktoo well, because the admiration of the spectator is divided between the statue and the mattress. This, however, ought not to be imputed as a fault to that great artist; since he condescended to make it at all, it was his business to make it as perfect as possible. I have heard of an artist at Versailles, in a different line, who attempted something of the same nature; he had exerted all his abilities in making a periwig for a celebrated preacher, who was to preach on a particular occasion before the court; and he imagined he had succeeded to a miracle. “I’ll be hanged,” said he to one of his companions, “if his Majesty, or any manof taste, will pay much attention to thesermonto-day.”
Among the antiques, there is a Centaur in marble, with a Cupid mounted on his back. The latter has the cestus of Venus, and the ivy crown of Bacchus, in allusion to beauty and wine; he beats the Centaur with his fist, and seems to kick with violence to drive him along. The Centaur throws back his head and eyes with a look of remorse, as if he were unwilling, though forced, to proceed. The execution of this group, is admired by those who look upon it merely as a jeu d’esprit; but it acquires additional merit, when considered as allegorical of men who are hurried on by the violence of their passions, and lament their own weakness, while they find themselves unable to resist.
There is another figure which claims attention, more on account of the allegory than the sculpture. This is a small statue of Venus Cloacina, trampling on an impregnateduterus, and tearing the wings of Cupid. The allegory indicates, that prostitution is equally destructive of generation and love. Keysler mentioning this, calls it a statue of Venus, lamenting her rashness in clipping Cupid’s wings.
The statue called Zingara, or the Fortune-teller, is antique, all but the head, which is Bernini’s; the face has a strong expression of that sly shrewdness, which belongs to those whose trade it is to impose on the credulity of the vulgar; with a great look of some modern gypsies I have seen, who have imposed most egregiously on the self-love and credulity of the great.
Seneca dying in the Bath, in touchstone; round his middle is a girdle of yellow marble; he stands in a bason of blueish marble lined with porphyry; his knees seem to bend under him, from weakness; his features denote faintness, languor, and the approach of death; the eyes are enamelled, which gives the countenance afierce and disagreeable look. Colouring the eyes always has a bad effect in sculpture; they form too violent a contrast with the other features, which remain of the natural colour of the marble. When the eyes are enamelled, it is requisite that all the face should be painted, to produce the agreeable harmony of life.
The Faun dandling an infant Bacchus, is one of the gayest figures that can be imagined.
In this Villa, there are also some highly esteemed pieces by Bernini. Æneas carrying his father; David slinging the stone at Goliah; and Apollo pursuing Daphne: the last is generally reckoned Bernini’s master-piece; for my part, I have so bad a taste as to prefer the second. The figure of David is nervous, with great anatomical justness, and a strong expression of keenness and exertion to hit his mark, and kill his enemy; but the countenance of David wants dignity. An ancient artist, perhaps,could not have given more ardour, but he would have given more nobleness to the features of David. Some may say, that as he was but a shepherd, it was proper he should have the look of a clown; but it ought to be remembered, that David was a very extraordinary man; and if the artist who formed the Belvedere Apollo, or if Agasias the Ephesian, had treated the same subject, I imagine they would have rendered their work more interesting, by blending the noble air of an hero with the simple appearance of a shepherd. The figures of Apollo and Daphne err in a different manner. The face and figure of Apollo are deficient in simplicity; the noble simplicity of the best antique statues: he runs with affected graces, and his astonishment at the beginning transformation of his mistress is not, in my opinion, naturally expressed, but seems rather the exaggerated astonishment of an actor. The form and shape of Daphne are delicately executed; but in her face, beauty is, in some degree, sacrificedto the expression of terror; her features are too much distorted by fear. An ancient artist would have made her less afraid, that she might have been more beautiful. In expressing terror, pain, and other impressions, there is a point where the beauty of the finest countenance ends, and deformity begins. I am indebted to Mr. Lock for this observation. In some conversations I had with him at Cologny, on the subject of Sculpture, that gentleman remarked, that it was in the skilful and temperate exertion of her powers, in this noblest province of the art,expression, that ancient sculpture so much excelled the modern. She knew its limits, and had ascertained them with precision. As far as expression would go hand in hand with grace and beauty, in subjects intended to excite sympathy, she indulged her chisel; but where agony threatened to induce distortion, and obliterate beauty, she wisely set bounds to imitation, remembering, that though it may be moral to pity ugliness in distress,it is more natural to pity beauty in the same situation; and that her business was not to give the strongest representation of nature, but the representation which would interest us most. That ingenious gentleman, I remember, observed at the same time, that the Greek artists have been accused of having sacrificed character too much to technical proportion. He continued to observe, that what is usually called character in a face, is probably excess in some of its parts, and particularly of those which are under the influence of the mind, the leading passion of which marks some feature for its own. A perfectly symmetrical face bears no mark of the influence of either the passions or the understanding, and reminds you of Prometheus’s clay without his fire. On the other hand, the moderns, by sacrificing too liberally those technical proportions, which, when religiously observed, produce beauty, to expression, have generally lost the very point which they contended for. They seemed to think, thatwhen a passion was to be expressed, it could not be expressed too strongly; and that sympathy always followed in an exact proportion with the strength of the passion, and the force of its expression. But passions, in their extreme, instead of producing sympathy, generally excite feelings diametrically opposite. A vehement and clamorous demand of pity is received with neglect, and sometimes with disgust; whilst a patient and silent acquiescence under the pressure of mental affliction, or severe bodily pain, finds every heart upon an unison with its sufferings. The ancients knew to what extent expression may be carried, with good effect. The author of the famous Laocoon, in the Vatican, knew where to stop, and if the figure had been alone, it would have been perfect; there is exquisite anguish in the countenance, but it is borne in silence, and without distortion of features. Puget thought he could go beyond the author of Laocoon; he gave voice to his Milo; he made him roaring with pain,and lost the sympathy of the spectator. In confirmation of this doctrine, Mr. Lock desired, that when I should arrive at Rome, I would examine, with attention, the celebrated statue of Niobe, in the Villa de Medici. I have done so again and again, and find his remarks most strikingly just. The author of the Niobe has had the judgment not to exhibit all the distress which he might have placed in her countenance. This consummate artist was afraid of disturbing her features too much, knowing full well, that the point where he was to expect the most sympathy was there, where distress co-operated with beauty, and whereour pity met our love. Had he sought it one step farther, inexpression, he had lost it. It is unjust, you will say, that men should not sympathise with homely women in distress, in the same degree as they do with the beautiful. That is very true; but it is the business of the sculptor to apply his art to men as he finds them, not as they ought to be. Beside, this principlehas full force, and is strictly true, only in sculpture and painting. For, in real life, a woman may engage a man’s esteem and affections by a thousand fine qualities, and a thousand endearing ties, though she is entirely deficient in beauty.
This Villa is also enriched by one of the most animated statues in the world, and which, in the opinion of many men of taste, comes nearest, and in the judgment of some, equals the Apollo of the Vatican. I mean the statue of the fighting Gladiator. It is difficult, however, to compare two pieces whose merits are so different. The Apollo is full of grace, majesty, and conscious superiority; he has shot his arrow, and knows its success. There is, indeed, a strong expression of indignation, which opens his lips, distends his nostrils, and contracts his brows; but it is the indignation of a superior being, who punishes while he scorns the efforts of his enemy. The Gladiator, on the contrary, full of fireand youthful courage, opposes an enemy that he does not fear; but whom, it is evident, he thinks worthy of his utmost exertion; every limb, nerve, and sinew, is in action; his ardent features indicate the strongest desire, the highest expectation, but not a perfect security of victory. His shape is elegant as well as nervous, expressive of agility as well as strength, and equally distant from the brawny strength of the Farnesian Hercules, and the effeminate softness of the Belvedere Antinous. The action is transitive (if the term may be so used), and preparatory only to another disposition of body and limbs, which are to enable him to strike, and which he cannot do in his present position; for the moment his right arm crossed the perpendicular line of his right leg, the whole figure would be out of its centre. His action seems a combination of the defensive and offensive; defensive in thepresentmoment, the left arm being advanced to secure the adversary’sblow; and preparing for offence in the next, the left leg already taking its spring to advance in order to give the figure a centre, which may enable it to strike, without risk of falling, if the blow should not take place. The action of the right arm, however, will always remain in some degree problematical, the ancient being lost; by whom the modern arm is restored, I never heard.
Though this fine figure generally goes by the name of the fighting Gladiator, some antiquarians cannot allow, that ever it was intended to represent a person of that profession, but a Victor at the Olympic games; and allege, that Agasias of Ephesus, the sculptor’s name, being inscribed upon the pedestal, supports their opinion, because the Greeks never used gladiators. But I fear this argument has little weight; for the Greek slaves at Rome put their name to their work; and the free Greek artists, working in Greece, in public works,found difficulty in obtaining the same indulgence. Those who wish to rescue this statue from the ignoble condition of a common Gladiator, say further, that he looks up as if his adversary were on horseback, adding, that gladiators never fought on foot against horsemen on the Arena. Here again, I am afraid, they are mistaken. He looks no higher than the eye of an enemy on foot; the head must have a much greater degree of elevation to look up to the eye of an horseman, which is the part of your adversary which you always fix.
Some learned gentlemen, not satisfied that this statue should be thrown indiscriminately among Gladiators and Victors of the Olympic games, have given it a particular and lasting character; they roundly assert, that it is the identical statue, made by order of the Athenian State, in honour of their countryman Chabrias; and that it is precisely in the attitude which, according to Cornelius Nepos, that hero assumed,when he repulsed the army of Agesilaus. This idea is in the true spirit of an antiquary.
If, upon turning to that author, you remain unconvinced, and are interested in the honour of the statue, I can furnish you with no presumptive proof of its original dignity, except, that the character of the face is noble and haughty, unlike that of a slave and mercenary Gladiator. And there is no rope around the neck, as the Gladiator Moriens has, whom that circumstance sufficiently indicates to have been in that unfortunate situation.
Rome.
A few days since I went to call on an artist of my acquaintance. I met, coming out of his door, an old woman, and a very handsome girl, remarkably well shaped. I rallied him a little on the subject of his visitors, and his good fortune in being attended in a morning by the prettiest girl I had seen since I came to Rome. “I think myself fortunate,” said he, “in having found a girl so perfectly well made, who allows me to study her charms without restraint, and at a reasonable price; but I assure you, I can boast of no other kind of good fortune with her.” “I am convinced,” rejoined I, “that you take great pleasure in your studies, and there can be no doubt that you have made a very desirable progress.” “Of that you shall be the judge,” replied he, leading me intoanother room, where I saw a full length painting of the girl, in the character of Venus, and in theusual dressof that goddess. “There,” said he, “is the only effect my studies have had hitherto, and I begin to suspect that they will never produce any thing more nearly connected with the original.” He then informed me, that the old woman I had seen was the girl’s mother, who never failed to accompany her daughter, when she came as a model to him; that the father was a tradesman, with a numerous family, who thought this the most innocent use that his daughter’s beauty could be put to, till she should get a husband; and to prevent its being put to any other, his wife always accompanied her. “I have drawn her as Venus,” added he; “but, for any thing I know to the contrary, I should have approached nearer to her real character if I had painted her as Diana. She comes here merely in obedience to her parents, and gains her bread as innocently as ifshe were knitting purses in a convent from morning to night, without seeing the face of a man.”
“However innocent all this may be,” said I, “there is something at which the mind revolts, in a mother’s being present when her daughter acts a part which, if not criminal, is, at least, highly indelicate.”
“To be sure,” replied the painter, “the woman has not quite so much delicacy as to starve, rather than let her daughter stand as a model; yet she seems to have attention to the girl’s chastity, too.”
“Chastity!” answered I, “why this would shock anEnglishwoman more than any thing which could be proposed to her. Every other kind of liberty must have been previously taken with her. She must be a complete prostitute in every sense of the word, before she could be brought to submit to appear in this manner.”
“Your observation is true,” replied he; “but it does not prove that those who submit to this, to prevent their becoming prostitutes, do not judge better than those who become prostitutes, and then submit to this. In different countries,” continued he, “people think very differently on subjects of this kind. The parents of this girl, to my knowledge, have refused considerable offers from men of fortune, to be allowed the privilege ofvisitingher. They are so very careful of preventing every thing of that nature, that she actually lies in the same bed with them both, which is another piece of indelicacy not uncommon among the lower people in Italy. These parents have the more merit in refusing such offers, as their acting otherwise would by no means be thought extraordinary; nor would it raise the same degree of indignation here as in some other countries of Europe. Breach of chastity, in females of low rank, is not considered here in the same heinous lightthat it is in some parts of Germany and Great Britain; where it is deemed a crime of such magnitude, as to require expiation, by a public rebuke from the parson in the middle of the church. I have heard of a clergyman in the North, who had occasion to rebuke a young woman for having borne a child before marriage. The accomplice in her guilt had married her immediately after her recovery; but this did not abate the parson’s indignation against the wickedness they had previously committed. Magdalen,” said he, with an aweful tone of voice, to the woman, “you stand before this congregation to be rebuked for thebarbarousandunnaturalcrime of fornication.”
“The reverend clergyman, said I, in all probability intended to terrify his parishioners from such irregularities; and for this purpose imagined there would be no harm in putting them in the most odious point of view.” “This is attended,however, by one dreadful consequence,” replied the artist, “that these unhappy creatures, to conceal a fault of which such a horrible idea is given, and to prevent the shame of a public exposition in the church, are sometimes tempted to commit a crime which is in reality barbarous, and unnatural in the highest degree.”
“There is nothing,” continued he, “which has a greater tendency to render any set of people worthless, than the idea that they are already considered as such. The women all over Great Britain, who live in an open and avowed breach of chastity, are generally more daringly wicked, and devoid of principle, than the Italian women who take the same liberties.”
“Would you then,” said I, “have women of that kind more respected in Great Britain, in hopes that it might, in time, make them more respectable?”
“I express no desire on the subject,” replied he. “I was only going to remark, that, in avoiding one inconveniency, mankind often fall into another; and that we are too apt to censure and ridicule customs and opinions different from those which prevail in our own country, without having sufficiently considered all their immediate and remote effects. I did not intend to decide, whether the indulgence with which women of a certain class are viewed in Italy, or the ignominy with which they are treated in Great Britain, has, upon the whole, the best effect in society. But I have observed, that the public courtezans in England often become quite abandoned, and forget all sense of gratitude or affection, even to their parents. But in Italy, women who never put any value on the virtue of chastity, those who sell their favours for money, display a goodness of character in other respects, and continue their duty and attachment to their parents as long as theylive. Foreigners who form a connection with a girl in this country, find themselves very often obliged to maintain the father, mother, and whole family to which she belongs. The lover generally considers this as a very troublesome circumstance, and endeavours to inspire his Italian mistress with that total neglect of her family which prevails among women of her stamp in other countries; but he very seldom succeeds. An Italian woman is unwilling to quit her native city and her family, even for a man she loves; and seldom does, till he makes some provision for her nearest relations.”
“You seem to have a very great affection for the Italian ladies; and, as far as I can perceive,” said I, “your passion is universal to the whole class in question; but you have said nothing to the essential article of religion. It is to be hoped, they do not allow the duties of their profession to make them neglect their souls.”
“I see,” replied the painter, “you are disposed to laugh at all I have said in their favour; but in answer to your question, I will fairly own, that their religious, or, if you please, we shall rather call them their superstitious, sentiments, seem to be no way influenced by their profession; nor are the duties of their profession in any degree affected by these sentiments. They attend mass, and the ceremonies of devotion, with as much punctuality as if their lives were regular in all other respects; and they pass their lives, in other respects, as if they had never heard of any religious system but that of Epicurus. In some countries of Europe, women of their stamp often despise every appearance of decency, assume the disgusting depravity of male debauchees, with all the airs of affected infidelity, and real profligacy; butherethey always remember they are women; and, after they have lost the most valued and brightest ornament of their sex,still endeavour to retain some of the others.”
“After all you have said in their favour,” said I, “”their condition is certainly not to be envied. If, therefore, you have any regard for youryoung Venus, you will do well to leave her under the care of her mother, and never endeavour to introduce her into the community whose eulogium you have been making.”
When I returned from the house of this artist, I found Mr. —— waiting for me at our lodgings. He has of late paid his court very assiduously to a lady of high rank in this place: she is distinguished, even here, for a punctilious observance of all the ceremonies appointed by the church, and could not eat meat on a meagre-day, or deviate from the canonical regulations in any point of equal importance, without remorse; but in matters of gallantry, she has the reputation of being infinitely more liberal, bothin her sentiments and practice. She has been for some time provided with a very able and respectable lover, of her own country. This did not make her blind to the good qualities of Mr. ——, with whom she formed a very intimate connection, soon after his arrival here; not that she prefers him to her other lover, but merely from a strong sense of the truth and beauty of this arithmetical axiom—one and one make two. The new arrangement with our countryman, however pleasing to the lady, gave offence to her Father Confessor. The scrupulous ecclesiastic was of opinion, that a connection of this nature with a heretic was more criminal than with a man of her own communion. Mr. —— was just come from the lady to our lodgings; he had found her in worse humour than he had ever observed before, though her temper is not the mildest in the world. Mr. —— entered as the Confessor went out; she shut the door after him with a violence which shook the whole house, muttering, as shereturned to her seat,Che ti possino Cascar le braccia Vecchio Dondolone. Mr. —— expressed his concern on seeing her so much agitated. “No wonder,” said she, “that stubborn Animalaccio who is just gone out, has had the insolence to refuse me absolution. As I expected you this morning, I sent for him betimes, that the matter might have been expedited before you should come; but here I have been above an hour endeavouring to persuade him, but all to no purpose; nothing I could say was able to mollify the obstinate old greasy rascal.” Mr. —— joined in abusing the Confessor’s perverseness, hinting, at the same time, that she ought to despise it as a matter of little importance; that she was sure of receiving absolution sooner or later; and, whenever it happened, all the transactions of the interval would be comprehended within that act of grace. Upon the strength of this reasoning, Mr. —— was proceeding to fulfil the purpose of his visit with as muchalacrity as if the most complete discharge had been granted for all proceedings—“Pian Piano Idol mio,” cried the lady, “bisogna rimettersi alla voluntà di Dio.” She then told her lover, that although she despised the Confessor as much as he could do, yet she must take care of her own soul; that not having settled her accounts with heaven for a considerable time, she was determined not to begin a new score till the old should be cleared; adding, for her principal reason,Patto chiaro, amico caro.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
A hundred hours of vexation will not pay one farthing of debt.
Thro’ various hazards, and many cross events.
Thro’ various hazards, and many cross events.
Thro’ various hazards, and many cross events.
Thro’ various hazards, and many cross events.
——What we hear,With slower passion to the heart proceeds,Than when an audience views the very deeds.Francis.
——What we hear,With slower passion to the heart proceeds,Than when an audience views the very deeds.Francis.
——What we hear,With slower passion to the heart proceeds,Than when an audience views the very deeds.
——What we hear,
With slower passion to the heart proceeds,
Than when an audience views the very deeds.
Francis.
Francis.
The business of thedramamust appear in action or description.
Francis.
Like a youthful tree, of growthInsensible, high shoots his spreading fame.Francis.
Like a youthful tree, of growthInsensible, high shoots his spreading fame.Francis.
Like a youthful tree, of growthInsensible, high shoots his spreading fame.
Like a youthful tree, of growth
Insensible, high shoots his spreading fame.
Francis.
Francis.
The place intended for the portrait of Marinus Fallierus, who was beheaded.
——to the woods the wanton hies,And wishes to be seen before she flies.Dryden.
——to the woods the wanton hies,And wishes to be seen before she flies.Dryden.
——to the woods the wanton hies,And wishes to be seen before she flies.
——to the woods the wanton hies,
And wishes to be seen before she flies.
Dryden.
Dryden.
At length he founded Padua’s happy seat.Dryden.
At length he founded Padua’s happy seat.Dryden.
At length he founded Padua’s happy seat.
At length he founded Padua’s happy seat.
Dryden.
Dryden.
Where Aponus first springs in smoky steam,And full Timavus rolls his nobler stream;Upon a hill that day, if same be true,A learned Augur sat the skies to view:’Tis come, the great event is come (he cry’d)!Our impious chiefs their wicked war decide.Rowe.
Where Aponus first springs in smoky steam,And full Timavus rolls his nobler stream;Upon a hill that day, if same be true,A learned Augur sat the skies to view:’Tis come, the great event is come (he cry’d)!Our impious chiefs their wicked war decide.Rowe.
Where Aponus first springs in smoky steam,And full Timavus rolls his nobler stream;Upon a hill that day, if same be true,A learned Augur sat the skies to view:’Tis come, the great event is come (he cry’d)!Our impious chiefs their wicked war decide.
Where Aponus first springs in smoky steam,
And full Timavus rolls his nobler stream;
Upon a hill that day, if same be true,
A learned Augur sat the skies to view:
’Tis come, the great event is come (he cry’d)!
Our impious chiefs their wicked war decide.
Rowe.
Rowe.
Whence bull-faced Po adorned with gilded horns,Than whom no river, thro’ such level meads,Down to the sea with swifter torrents speeds.Warton.
Whence bull-faced Po adorned with gilded horns,Than whom no river, thro’ such level meads,Down to the sea with swifter torrents speeds.Warton.
Whence bull-faced Po adorned with gilded horns,Than whom no river, thro’ such level meads,Down to the sea with swifter torrents speeds.
Whence bull-faced Po adorned with gilded horns,
Than whom no river, thro’ such level meads,
Down to the sea with swifter torrents speeds.
Warton.
Warton.
Three brothers, the sons of Maria Theresa, Queen of Bohemia and Hungary, all of them distinguished by their virtues, and worthy of so illustrious a mother, were entertained at this inn,viz.Maximilian Arch-Duke of Austria, who actually supped and passed the night here, on the 30th of May, 1775.
Peter Leopold Grand Duke of Tuscany, and the Emperor Joseph the Second, the ornament and glory of the age, who dined here the following day.
That such important events may not be lost in the flight of time, let this durable monument inform the latest posterity of the happiness which this inn enjoyed.
The Bononian Academy of arts and sciences, for the general use of the whole world.
Some are of opinion, that, captivated by the love of power, and having carefully weighed his own strength and that of his enemies, he had availed himself of this opportunity of seizing the supreme authority, which had been his passion from his early youth.
For if a violation of equity is ever excusable, it is when a crown is our object—On all other occasions we ought to cultivate justice.
He never was deterred from any undertaking by religious scruples.—When the animal, destined for sacrifice, fled from the altar, this bad omen did not prevent Cæsar from marching against Scipio and Juba.
The leader now had passed the torrent o’er,And reached fair Italy’s forbidden shore:Then rearing on the hostile bank his head,Here, farewell peace and injured laws (he said)!Since faith is broke, and leagues are set aside,Henceforth thou, goddess Fortune, art my guide.Let fate and war the great event decide.He spoke; and, on the dreadful task intent,Speedy to near Ariminum he bent;To him the Balearic sling is slow,And the shaft loiters from the Parthian bow.Rowe.
The leader now had passed the torrent o’er,And reached fair Italy’s forbidden shore:Then rearing on the hostile bank his head,Here, farewell peace and injured laws (he said)!Since faith is broke, and leagues are set aside,Henceforth thou, goddess Fortune, art my guide.Let fate and war the great event decide.He spoke; and, on the dreadful task intent,Speedy to near Ariminum he bent;To him the Balearic sling is slow,And the shaft loiters from the Parthian bow.Rowe.
The leader now had passed the torrent o’er,And reached fair Italy’s forbidden shore:Then rearing on the hostile bank his head,Here, farewell peace and injured laws (he said)!Since faith is broke, and leagues are set aside,Henceforth thou, goddess Fortune, art my guide.Let fate and war the great event decide.He spoke; and, on the dreadful task intent,Speedy to near Ariminum he bent;To him the Balearic sling is slow,And the shaft loiters from the Parthian bow.
The leader now had passed the torrent o’er,
And reached fair Italy’s forbidden shore:
Then rearing on the hostile bank his head,
Here, farewell peace and injured laws (he said)!
Since faith is broke, and leagues are set aside,
Henceforth thou, goddess Fortune, art my guide.
Let fate and war the great event decide.
He spoke; and, on the dreadful task intent,
Speedy to near Ariminum he bent;
To him the Balearic sling is slow,
And the shaft loiters from the Parthian bow.
Rowe.
Rowe.
How much the grandeur of thy rising stateOwes to the Neros, Rome imperial! say,Witness Metaurus, and the dismal fateOf vanquished Asdrubal, and that glad dayWhich first, auspicious, as the darkness fled,O’er Latium’s face a tide of glory shed.Through wide Hesperia’s tow’ring cities, crush’dWith hideous fall and desolation dire,Impetuous, wild the Carthaginian rush’d;As through the pitchy pines destructive fireDevours its course, or howling Eurus raves,And posting sweeps the mad Sicilian waves.Francis.
How much the grandeur of thy rising stateOwes to the Neros, Rome imperial! say,Witness Metaurus, and the dismal fateOf vanquished Asdrubal, and that glad dayWhich first, auspicious, as the darkness fled,O’er Latium’s face a tide of glory shed.Through wide Hesperia’s tow’ring cities, crush’dWith hideous fall and desolation dire,Impetuous, wild the Carthaginian rush’d;As through the pitchy pines destructive fireDevours its course, or howling Eurus raves,And posting sweeps the mad Sicilian waves.Francis.
How much the grandeur of thy rising stateOwes to the Neros, Rome imperial! say,Witness Metaurus, and the dismal fateOf vanquished Asdrubal, and that glad dayWhich first, auspicious, as the darkness fled,O’er Latium’s face a tide of glory shed.
How much the grandeur of thy rising state
Owes to the Neros, Rome imperial! say,
Witness Metaurus, and the dismal fate
Of vanquished Asdrubal, and that glad day
Which first, auspicious, as the darkness fled,
O’er Latium’s face a tide of glory shed.
Through wide Hesperia’s tow’ring cities, crush’dWith hideous fall and desolation dire,Impetuous, wild the Carthaginian rush’d;As through the pitchy pines destructive fireDevours its course, or howling Eurus raves,And posting sweeps the mad Sicilian waves.
Through wide Hesperia’s tow’ring cities, crush’d
With hideous fall and desolation dire,
Impetuous, wild the Carthaginian rush’d;
As through the pitchy pines destructive fire
Devours its course, or howling Eurus raves,
And posting sweeps the mad Sicilian waves.
Francis.
Francis.
An Adriatic turbot, of a wonderful size, was caught before the temple of Venus, at Ancona, a city built by the Greeks.
Be not afraid, my good Sir, these walls are more firm than the Apennines.
Hannibal, having defeated the Romans at Thrasymene, and marching his army to Rome, was repulsed from Spoletto with great slaughter. The memorable flight of the Carthaginians gave name to this gate.
Hannibal marched straight through Umbria to Spoletto, and after having laid the country waste, when he began to attack the town, he was beat off, with great slaughter of his soldiers. Such a check from an inconsiderable colony, would naturally lead him to reflect on the difficulties he must encounter in subduing the Roman republic.
Narnia, surrounded by a sulphureous stream and dangerous cliffs, which render it almost inaccessible.
Hence the fam’d Latian line, and senates come,And the proud triumphs, and the tow’rs of Rome.Pitt.
Hence the fam’d Latian line, and senates come,And the proud triumphs, and the tow’rs of Rome.Pitt.
Hence the fam’d Latian line, and senates come,And the proud triumphs, and the tow’rs of Rome.
Hence the fam’d Latian line, and senates come,
And the proud triumphs, and the tow’rs of Rome.
Pitt.
Pitt.
Yes, my Lord—but my husband is an old man.
O holy Virgin, how exceeding old he is!
Long live the Holy Father!
Your blessing, Holy Father.
This triumph, this, on Libya’s utmost bound,With death and desolation compassed round,To all thy glories, Pompey, I prefer,Thy trophies, and thy third triumphal car;To Marius’ mighty name, and great Jugurthine war.Rowe.
This triumph, this, on Libya’s utmost bound,With death and desolation compassed round,To all thy glories, Pompey, I prefer,Thy trophies, and thy third triumphal car;To Marius’ mighty name, and great Jugurthine war.Rowe.
This triumph, this, on Libya’s utmost bound,With death and desolation compassed round,To all thy glories, Pompey, I prefer,Thy trophies, and thy third triumphal car;To Marius’ mighty name, and great Jugurthine war.
This triumph, this, on Libya’s utmost bound,
With death and desolation compassed round,
To all thy glories, Pompey, I prefer,
Thy trophies, and thy third triumphal car;
To Marius’ mighty name, and great Jugurthine war.
Rowe.
Rowe.
What tongue, just Cato, can thy praise forbear!Or each brave Scipio’s noble deeds declare?Afric’s dread foes; two thunderbolts of war!Pitt.
What tongue, just Cato, can thy praise forbear!Or each brave Scipio’s noble deeds declare?Afric’s dread foes; two thunderbolts of war!Pitt.
What tongue, just Cato, can thy praise forbear!Or each brave Scipio’s noble deeds declare?Afric’s dread foes; two thunderbolts of war!
What tongue, just Cato, can thy praise forbear!
Or each brave Scipio’s noble deeds declare?
Afric’s dread foes; two thunderbolts of war!
Pitt.
Pitt.
Founded by Marcus Agrippa, the son of Lucius, during his third Consulship.
Secure in his retreat Vejanius lies;Hangs up his arms, nor courts the doubtful prize;Wisely resolved to tempt his fate no more,Or the light croud for his discharge implore.Francis.
Secure in his retreat Vejanius lies;Hangs up his arms, nor courts the doubtful prize;Wisely resolved to tempt his fate no more,Or the light croud for his discharge implore.Francis.
Secure in his retreat Vejanius lies;Hangs up his arms, nor courts the doubtful prize;Wisely resolved to tempt his fate no more,Or the light croud for his discharge implore.
Secure in his retreat Vejanius lies;
Hangs up his arms, nor courts the doubtful prize;
Wisely resolved to tempt his fate no more,
Or the light croud for his discharge implore.
Francis.
Francis.
But if she has made an assignation, and wishes to be drest with more nicety than usual—Poor Psecus (her female slave), with her hair torn about her ears, and stripped to the waist, adjusts the locks of her mistress.Why is this curl so high?Presently the whip punishes the disorder of the least hair.
——every moment grows,And gains new strength and vigour as it goes.Pitt.
——every moment grows,And gains new strength and vigour as it goes.Pitt.
——every moment grows,And gains new strength and vigour as it goes.
——every moment grows,
And gains new strength and vigour as it goes.
Pitt.
Pitt.
Between whom Augustus reclining, quaffs nectar with purple lips.
My fame ———— shall bloom,And with unfading youth improve,While to th’ immortal fane of JoveThe vestal maids, in silent stateAscending, on the Pontiff wait.Francis.
My fame ———— shall bloom,And with unfading youth improve,While to th’ immortal fane of JoveThe vestal maids, in silent stateAscending, on the Pontiff wait.Francis.
My fame ———— shall bloom,And with unfading youth improve,While to th’ immortal fane of JoveThe vestal maids, in silent stateAscending, on the Pontiff wait.
My fame ———— shall bloom,
And with unfading youth improve,
While to th’ immortal fane of Jove
The vestal maids, in silent state
Ascending, on the Pontiff wait.
Francis.
Francis.
Hail, happy pair! if fame our verse can give,From age to age your memory shall live;Long as th’ imperial Capitol shall stand,Or Rome’s majestic Lord the conquer’d world command!Pitt.
Hail, happy pair! if fame our verse can give,From age to age your memory shall live;Long as th’ imperial Capitol shall stand,Or Rome’s majestic Lord the conquer’d world command!Pitt.
Hail, happy pair! if fame our verse can give,From age to age your memory shall live;Long as th’ imperial Capitol shall stand,Or Rome’s majestic Lord the conquer’d world command!
Hail, happy pair! if fame our verse can give,
From age to age your memory shall live;
Long as th’ imperial Capitol shall stand,
Or Rome’s majestic Lord the conquer’d world command!
Pitt.
Pitt.
From whose bowels the Prince of Peace sprung.
Why does he hate the sunny plain,While he can sun or dust sustain?Or why no more, with martial pride,Amidst the youthful battle ride,And the fierce Gallic steed command,With bitted curb, and forming hand?Why does he fear the yellow flood?Francis.
Why does he hate the sunny plain,While he can sun or dust sustain?Or why no more, with martial pride,Amidst the youthful battle ride,And the fierce Gallic steed command,With bitted curb, and forming hand?Why does he fear the yellow flood?Francis.
Why does he hate the sunny plain,While he can sun or dust sustain?Or why no more, with martial pride,Amidst the youthful battle ride,And the fierce Gallic steed command,With bitted curb, and forming hand?Why does he fear the yellow flood?
Why does he hate the sunny plain,
While he can sun or dust sustain?
Or why no more, with martial pride,
Amidst the youthful battle ride,
And the fierce Gallic steed command,
With bitted curb, and forming hand?
Why does he fear the yellow flood?
Francis.
Francis.
Thus they conversed on works of ancient fame,Till to the monarch’s humble courts they came;There oxen stalk’d, where palaces are raised,And bellowing herds in the proudForumgraz’d.Pitt.
Thus they conversed on works of ancient fame,Till to the monarch’s humble courts they came;There oxen stalk’d, where palaces are raised,And bellowing herds in the proudForumgraz’d.Pitt.
Thus they conversed on works of ancient fame,Till to the monarch’s humble courts they came;There oxen stalk’d, where palaces are raised,And bellowing herds in the proudForumgraz’d.
Thus they conversed on works of ancient fame,
Till to the monarch’s humble courts they came;
There oxen stalk’d, where palaces are raised,
And bellowing herds in the proudForumgraz’d.
Pitt.
Pitt.
The Devil go along with you for an old goose.
Softly, softly, my love. We must submit to the will of Heaven.
Short accounts make long friends.