Letters of an Architect, From France, Italy, and Greece. Volume 1 [of 2]

One does not at first do justice to the architecture of the Roman palaces. The great size of many of them, and the abundance, and bold projection of the ornaments, produce indeed a general impression of magnificence, but if we can get space enough in front to examine the parts distinctly, we often turn away dissatisfied from the absurdity and disproportion they exhibit. Yet with great faults, we may find amongst them great beauties, which, when habit has enabled us to support their defects, the mind learns to enjoy. Generally speaking, there is great simplicity of design, so much so, that in a large number, the front is not divided into parts, either as a centre and two wings, or in any other way, but presents one simple continued line of surface; and this I am persuaded is the best plan which can be adopted for large houses in streets. They also exhibit much richness of detail, and you know, simplicity of design and richness of detail, form my receipt for the production of beauty in architecture. It is true that these details are frequently very far from correct in themselves, and the proportions not always good; but to an architect, the modern palaces of Rome are invaluable, as a collection of experiments on architectural beauty on a grand scale; and let me add, in a grand style, for however they may be abused as extravagant, absurd, or preposterous, they at least avoid the greatest fault that a building can have, that of being mean and paltry. The Romans even in these their degenerate days, have adopted a style fit for those who had the world at their command. These palaces are rarely decorated, either with columns or pilasters, and they are better without them; for these never look well in a building of many stories in height. Ornaments round the windows are never omitted, and never should be omitted, for without them a window is a mere hole in the wall. The Roman architects have more often erred in making these dressings, as they are called, too large than too small, and their details are frequently very bad; yet even in their worst state they contribute greatly to the general beauty of a building, much more so when they are well designed. The stories are generally divided by horizontal bands or mouldings along the front, and great space is left between the ranges of windows. This latter circumstance is of great importance. It gives an air of solidity and magnificence to the front, and suggests the idea of lofty rooms within; and it is a great point gained, when in addition to the magnificence which is seen, the artist can excite the idea of other magnificence which is not seen. This space is however sometimes broken by a disagreeable mezzanine. The whole is crowned by a large and rich cornice. The perfect beau ideal of such an arrangement is not to be found in Rome, although some of its palaces are highly beautiful, but it cannot fail to be excited in the mind of an architect who attentively studies them. The body of the edifice is nothing but a useful dwelling-house, the ornaments naturally arise out of the construction required for such an object, and the design is capable of any degree of magnificence suited to the rank and consequence of the owner. In short, we find in it every thing which can satisfy the eye, the imagination, and the judgment. For a public building it is not so well suited, nor perhaps for the palace of a sovereign, which ought to partake of the character of a public building; nor should I recommend it for a country villa; we want there less height, less solidity, and more variety of form; less of the grand, and more of the agreeable; yet even here, the plain unbroken line is much superior to the unmeaning division into a centre and wings, or into five parts, both of which are so frequently seen in our English dwellings.

Before I enter into any detail of the private palaces, I must say something about the celebrated Campidoglio. This of course is among the first objects of a stranger at Rome. But after walking along the Corso, and keeping in his eye the confused pile of buildings at the end, which he is told covers part of the Capitoline hill, he is lost among a labyrinth of narrow dirty streets. At length, if he is fortunate enough to take the right direction, he will find himself in a small square at the foot of two lofty flights of steps. The one on the left, which is the longest and steepest, conducts him to the apparently half-finished front of a Gothic building, the Madonna di Ara Cœli. The right leads to the Intermonzio, and the modern Capitol. At the bottom of this flight are two lions of basalt, of Greek-Egyptian workmanship, which squirt a little stream of water from their mouths, or occasionally on great festivals, of wine. At top, a continued balustrade, which on each side of the step completes the north-western side of the place or square, is accompanied by colossal statues of men and horses, and by trophies taken from a ruined building on the Esquiline, thought to have been the castellum of the Aqua Marcia, and believed to be of the time of Trajan, though the trophies themselves are attributed to Marius. I shall not criticise any of these individually, but remark their fine effect altogether, as uniting with the architecture, and announcing the magnificence to be expected in the Capitol itself. The admirable equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius next attracts our attention, and deserves equal praise from its individual merit, and as an ornament to the square. The attitude and expression are at once graceful and commanding, and suited to the philosophic and benevolent master of the Roman world. He gives not the least attention to himself or to his horse, but is entirely occupied with his people.

I have been induced to mention these accessories before the building itself, because they first strike the eye. I will now proceed to the examination of what is perhaps the best architectural work of M. Angelo Buonarroti. Its merit depends a good deal on the same circumstances as that of St. Mark’s Place at Venice, that is, the two side buildings form an avenue conducting to the central one. Its faults are, First, that this central building has not sufficient character. It hardly looks like the principal, and I believe in such cases that a bad display of architecture is better than none at all, because the general effect depends more upon the air of comparative importance, than upon the excellence of the parts. Perhaps also, its destination is not sufficiently important. All the fine arts speak to the imagination, and the true artist uses every means in his power to excite the imagination in his favour; not from system, but because he feels its importance in himself. Secondly, The lines of the side buildings diverge, and this makes them appear shorter than they are, when it would be better that they should appear longer, as I have already explained, in the colonnade of St. Peter’s. Thirdly, A large ugly window has been inserted in the middle of each side, thereby making it a separate composition; and there are no positions more certain, than that unity of design is essential to magnificence, and that in order to preserve unity of design, the inferior parts should not form independent compositions. This however was not done by M. A. Buonarroti, but by his pupil, Giacomo del Duca. The earliest architects of modern Rome have the merit of preserving unbroken the leading lines of their architecture; a beauty which seems to have been little attended to by their successors in any country; but which nevertheless, everybody feels, when he brings into comparison, buildings in other respects nearly similar.

Of the three buildings which form this architectural composition, that on the left hand side of the spectator as he enters, contains the Museum Capitolinum. That on the right is termed the Palace of the Conservatori. The front building is the Palace of the solitary senator of Rome. An open portico supported, or appearing to be supported, by small Ionic columns, about half the height of the principal order, extends along the front of each side building. The capitals of these Ionic columns are very singular, and are perhaps the earliest modern examples of such capitals, with the volutes uniformly projecting in the diagonal, instead of being parallel to the face of the building. We have ancient specimens of this kind at Pompei, but it is hardly probable that M. Angelo was acquainted with them. In the museum, you enter from this portico through a small vestibule, into a gallery of the same length, the central part of which is open to a small court, whence it derives its light. This court is ornamented with statues, and amongst them is that of Marforio, the ancient rival of Pasquin, but both have long been silent. Indeed, Misson in his travels in Italy in 1688, speaks of it as a practice which perhaps once existed. “’Tis very probable,” says he, “that it used formerly to be the custom, to affix the pasquinades on the statue of Pasquin, but that way is now laid aside, and all the satirical invectives are still fathered on Pasquin, though they never come near him.”

From this gallery you pass into three rooms in front of the building, the first of which contains imitations of Egyptian statues, in perfect preservation, found at the Villa Adriana. They are mostly of black marble, and strongly exhibit marks of their Grecian origin; but there are some of basalt, which have a truer Egyptian character. In the last is the famous sarcophagus, supposed, I know not why, to have contained the bodies of Alexander Severus, and his mother Mammæa. The bas-reliefs surrounding it represent the exploits of Achilles, and those of the front, and of one end are good, and in some parts really fine; the other end is inferior, and the back is miserable. The figures at the top, whoever they may represent, are not well executed.

In the walls of the staircase are encrusted the fragments of the ancient marble plan of Rome, found in the Temple of Remus. It is a pity that they are only fragments, but still it is a very curious monument, if it were only to show how incorrect the Romans were in these things. The date is not I think, determined, but we may suppose that a plan sculptured in marble and preserved in a temple, would have all the accuracy of which the subject was considered to be capable; and it is on a scale which would admit the greatest precision. Yet in buildings with columns, not only are these of unequal sizes, and placed at unequal distances, but even the number of them is disregarded; thus to mention one instance among many—the temple of Minerva is figured with six columns in front, and eight behind, a circumstance quite incredible.

Above stairs is a long gallery over that below. This, and five rooms in front, and one behind, are all filled with objects of great beauty or interest. One room contains a series of busts of Roman emperors and their wives. I wonder no one of our countrymen has thought of forming an historical series in plaster, of the emperors at least. This collection, added to those at Florence and Naples, would afford the materials, and opportunity also of selecting in a great many instances, the best, among a considerable number. Another room is occupied with busts of poets and philosophers. As for the beautiful objects of sculpture, they are too celebrated for me to venture a word upon them. The rooms are handsome and well disposed. The great hall, in particular, is a noble room of fine proportions, and the bold relief of the panelling of the lofty ceiling corresponds with the general air of solid magnificence, but its disposition is sadly complicated. As receptacles for sculpture, the light is introduced too low.

Opposite to the Museum is the Palace of the Conservatori, a building of the same appearance externally, but very different in the plan and extent within. The court is much larger, and it is adorned with many fragments of colossal statues which excite our wonder. We hear of such things, but the imagination is hardly excited, till something of them is seen, and then we begin to fancy what the effect must have been of these enormous productions, occupying the most conspicuous situations in a large city. I can hardly conceive any one circumstance which could produce a more impressive effect. On the ascent to the staircase are some fine bas-reliefs, supposed to be taken from an unknown triumphal arch of Marcus Aurelius, and which to me were the more interesting, as some ancient temples are represented in them. One of these has a continued ornament over the pediment. Here is also a figure of Curtius leaping into the gulf, which is evidently a marsh. On the first floor is a range of rooms adorned with paintings, not of much merit, by Arpini and Lauretti; and containing a few antiquities, one of which is the wolf recorded by Cicero to have been struck by lightning. Here also are preserved the Fasti consulares, found in the time of Paul the Third. Returning from these apartments, and passing through different passages, I was surprised to find myself on the ground, in a court from which another flight of steps leads to the picture gallery. This consists of two large rooms, not immediately connected together, containing a considerable collection of paintings, some of which are very fine. Indeed a great many would be highly prized, anywhere but amongst the papal collections; but while some are really first-rate, it must be acknowledged that there are also a good many indifferent pictures. They are by far too much crowded, and the rooms are neither handsome in themselves, nor well suited to the exhibition of paintings. This is all that is shown of this great rambling building, which we may visit repeatedly without obtaining any tolerable idea, either of its extent or disposition.

The Palace of the Senator is also part of a large building, of no regular plan, and occupying different levels; part of it is a prison, and the rest of it, I know not what. It contains considerable remains of ancient walls and piers, and I have already mentioned its appearance behind, where the tabularium forms part of the same mass. The great hall is a fine room, but it did not strike me by any particular excellence.

There are three statues in front of this building, two of which are recumbent figures, and have been christened the Nile and Tiber. When the statues of Hercules and Theseus are without veins, they are supposed to represent those heroes in a deified state, but both these river gods have the veins strongly marked. The middle statue is of porphyry; it is called Rome; the body and drapery, which alone are ancient, are very fine. It was perhaps a Bellona, for there seems no sort of reason for calling it Rome. I mention this, in order to shew how everything here is patched and named.

One of the earliest and finest palaces of modern Rome is the Palazzo della Cancellaria, which was built by Bramante, and affords a good specimen of his style. The principal lines are unbroken, the openings are small, those of the principal order too small, and the relief of the ornamental parts very trifling, and this in a large building, produces a breadth and repose very favourable to magnificence. The orders are not very good, but there are some beautiful ornaments of the cinque cento style. The composition is formed of a basement, and two orders of pilasters upon pedestals; the pilasters are disposed alternately in larger and smaller intervals. Over the windows of the principal floor are pateras; and small windows, or rather holes, over those of the upper; both are bad. There are two doorways in front, one of which was designed by Domenico Fontana, and is not handsome; the other was erected by Vignola, and is not suited to the building. The court has two orders of arches on single granite columns, light, airy, and elegant. The upper story of wall and pilasters over these arches is too high, and indeed the composition would be better if it were altogether omitted. All the details, that is, all the parts essential to the order, are bad; the mere ornaments are sometimes good.

The Palazzo Giraud was also built by Bramante, and like the former, consists of a basement, and two orders. In some respects it is superior to the Cancellaria; the pilasters are in pairs, which produces a better effect than the unequal spacing in that building, but the upper order is too small, and its two rows of windows are insignificant; there ought certainly to be only one row of windows to the upper story, when there is only one to the lower, yet Bramante has repeated this fault in both buildings. The present doorway is a posterior addition, not in good taste, the original having been apparently too quiet and simple. The Palazzo Sora has also been attributed to Bramante, but it has no characteristic of his architecture.

The Palazzo Stoppani was designed by Raphael; the upper part has been added; what remains of his, consists of a basement, and one story, ornamented with coupled Doric columns. In his time, the adaptation of the parts of ancient architecture to dwellinghouses, was a matter of experiment, rather than of experience, and Raphael has committed many faults which neither he, nor any body else, would repeat; but I think we may perceive in it, a power of combination, and a justness of sentiment, which announces that this wonderful man would have been as eminent in architecture as in painting, had his attention been equally directed that way. There is a beautiful little chapel in the church of Santa Maria del Popolo, of his design, which for elegance of proportion, and for the beautiful drawing and delicate execution of the ornaments, has no superior.

I do not know that I can do better than follow somewhat of a chronological order in giving to you this account of the Roman buildings; and the next work I shall therefore take up, is the Palazzo Massimi, of the architecture of Peruzzi da Siena. The form of the ground obliged him to make his front convex. The order here is placed below, consisting of Doric pilasters and entablatures, on a rustic face of wall. The upper part is also rusticated, but without pilasters, it has one row of upright windows of the usual form, and two rows of windows whose height is not equal to the breadth. This disposition is not at all pleasing, and I think the front has been praised far beyond its deserts; but Peruzzi died before the building was completed, and I wish to believe that the two upper stories have not been executed according to his intention. The vestibule is well managed, and the little court is really beautiful; it is a square, with a vaulted loggia on two sides, resting on columns, and corresponding pilasters on the others. The one side, which is lower than the other, is adorned with a fountain placed in a recess. It is excellent, but unfortunately for its effect, not finished, and is usually in a very forlorn and dirty state.

The Farnesina is also a work of Peruzzi. It is composed of a centre and two side pieces (pavillions) which advance a little; all is of one height, and in two orders, the centre with five openings on each range, the sides with two. The interpilasters of the lower part of the centre are occupied by large arches, which originally opened into a loggia; so far the arrangements and proportions are excellent, but I will not enter into further details, because they are not good. The central arches are now filled up, and what was an open loggia, is to the great detriment of the building, a hall. Internally, Raphael’s Cupid and Psyche, and his charming Galatea, hardly permit one to think of the architecture. Yet the Cupid and Psyche is not all of Raphael’s painting, or rather a very small part of it is his, though it may be all from his designs. It has been disharmonized by a blue ground of Carlo Maratti, whose pencil has perhaps not been confined entirely to the ground, but may be traced in many of the figures. There are two or three other things by this architect in Rome, but they are not of any great merit; yet they would deserve attention from a young architect; his forms are well chosen, the leading lines are well preserved, and the parts boldly and distinctly marked.

The next artist to whose works I shall introduce you, is Antonio Sangallo. There is one great merit in these early architects of Italy, that they are totally devoid of affectation. Their houses are neither temples, nor abbeys, nor castles, but simply dwellinghouses, and dwellinghouses of the age in which they were constructed, without any attempt to pass off as the productions of another period, either externally or internally. The architecture of Antonio Sangallo, who followed the profession and adopted the name of his maternal uncles, is distinguished by real and apparent solidity. The latter is not obtained by bold and massive projections, but by large spaces and small openings, and by the ornamental parts, which are rather broad, than of much relief, and have very little decoration. His style has a noble and simple character, which well merits for him the rank he holds among the great architects of Italy.

One of the finest works of this artist is the Palazzo Sacchetti, in the Strada Giulia. It consists of a cellar story, whose windows are placed between the consoles supporting the decorations of those of the ground floor; and the place is so ample, and the parts are so well disposed, that this does not appear at all defective. Over this are the ground floor, the principal floor, a mezzanine, and an upper story. There are seven windows in a range, all well distributed, and well proportioned, except in the diminution upwards, of the principal windows. The ornaments are also in fine style, and the doorway is handsome, and well suited to the building.

Another very celebrated work is the great Palazzo Farnese, of which the front towards the Piazza Farnese, and the two sides, were almost entirely of the design of Sangallo; and quite so as to the general distribution of the subject, except the cornice, which was by Michael Angelo. The court is by Vignola, and the back has also been cut up by the same artist; but of these I shall tell you more presently. This front is of great extent, and the parts are large and magnificent; yet it is by no means one of this artist’s best works. The windows are crowded, and over ornamented, but perhaps this extra ornament is a posterior addition; the great space above the upper range of windows has a bad effect, as it gives to that story the appearance of the principal one, which other circumstances do not, and ought not in such a building, to bear out.

The cornice, as I have already said, was the design of Michael Angelo Buonarroti. Paul the Third, who began this edifice before his elevation to the papacy, determined when he was pope, to have the most magnificent finish to his building that ever man conceived, and had a competition among the architects of the day, for the production of the most beautiful cornice. The pope himself examined all the designs, “and after,” says Milizia, “he had praised that of Michael Angelo as excelling all the rest, greatly to the mortification of poor Sangallo, he directed at last one by a certain Melighino to be brought forward.” This Melighino was a Ferrarese, who had just undertaken to be an architect, after having, as is supposed, served his master many years as a footman. Sangallo’s patience was exhausted, and he declared that Melighino was a joke of an architect (architetto da Beffe) to which the pope replied by a low bow and a bitter smile, “But we will, that Melighino be an architect in good earnest.” These competitions are much the fashion now in England, and there are some advantages in the plan; but as they are usually conducted, there are also many disadvantages, amongst which perhaps it is not the least, that under the notion of encouraging rising merit, they deprive of its due reward, that which is already in some degree risen; obliging every man who wishes to be engaged in any public work, (generally the most honourable, because the most conspicuous employment) to enter into competition with the rawest beginners; not before competent judges, (for if that were the case, he would have no right to complain) but before those, who perhaps have much general knowledge and taste, but who have attended little to architecture. The difference is so great between the drawings offered in the first instance, and the ultimate production of this art in the building, that a man of the strictest honour and purest taste, who has not frequently compared the geometrical drawing, and the edifice which it undertakes to explain, and deeply studied the relation between one and the other, is perhaps as likely to admire a Melighino, as a Michael Angelo, or a Sangallo. No building that has claimed the admiration of ages was ever designed in this way. There is more to be said on the subject, even in this particular point of view, but I will spare you, and return to Michael Angelo, who has here produced a cornice too large, even for the gigantic proportion of the palace which it crowns. I have not measured it, but I believe, including the ornament immediately below, which joins with it in general effect, that it is above nine feet high, and nearly equal in height to the principal range of windows. The showy part of the interior, which is nothing in comparison with the extent and magnificence of the building, consists of a fine gallery, 62 feet long, and 19 wide (Roman feet, I suppose), and some adjoining rooms. The gallery contains probably the noblest monument which Annibale Caracci has left of his great abilities. The subject painted on the ceiling is the triumph of Bacchus, full of life, spirit, and beauty. Ariadne is a charming figure, but there is a fawn dancing by her, quite overflowing with youthful spirits, so full of grace and animation, that I do not wonder that her attention is directed towards him, rather than to Bacchus. The upper rooms in this palace are assigned to the use of the students in the Neapolitan academy at Rome.

I have already related all I had to say of Michael Angelo’s architecture in the account of St. Peter’s and of the Campidoglio, I shall therefore pass to Giulio Romano, whom I expect to see more advantageously at Mantua. I would not, however, have you imagine that I do not set a high value on what he has done at Rome, but the quantity is very little. At first, to say the truth, I did not like it at all. What is different from that we are used to admire, often displeases us merely on that account, from habit, or rather I should say from the want of habit; and the architecture of Giulio is very markedly different from that of every one else. He strongly affected square forms, and seems to have laboured as much as possible to divide his buildings into square, or nearly square compartments. The receipt does not appear very promising, and yet the Palazzo Cenci, as it was once called, the palace where the Accademia Tiberina now holds its sittings, in spite of rags, and dirt, and dilapidation, is a noble design.

Giulio may be considered as the last of the early Roman architects. Their style is marked by a severity and magnificence, which I confess please me better, or rather excite in me higher ideas of excellence, than the grace and beauty of the Palladian. Do not accuse me of refining too much, when I add, that I do not mean to say that I like any of their houses, better than those of Palladio. I think that they followed a beau ideal of a higher character and expression, but Palladio undoubtedly reached his object much more nearly than any of the Roman architects; had Raphael lived, and followed architecture, I am persuaded that we should have had something far superior to what has ever been seen; but Raphael could hardly have done more for the Roman style, than Palladio did for that which he pursued. Of this more ornamental style, Vignola was the best among the Roman architects, but his buildings still retain something of the severity of his predecessors, and they fall far short of the grace and elegance of the Vicentine. Within the city, he has left very little but the court of the Farnese palace, which is not very fine, and whose style he has preposterously carried to the outside of the building, to form the centre of its north-west front, although entirely discordant with the work of Sangallo. On the outside of the gates are the little church of Sant Andrea, and the Villa Giulia, a work of considerable beauty and great defects, and now in a very forlorn condition. The first of these, the church of Sant Andrea, has been much admired, and even pointed out as a model for young architects; yet it is full of faults. It is oblong on the plan, covered with an elliptical dome; a bad form, for which it does not appear that there was any sufficient reason; since a design occupying the same ground, with a square room and a portico, would have given to the front the relief that it wants, and offered a reason for the pediment, which is now placed against the plain wall. “Ecco,” says Stern, “come s’imita lo spirito delle antiche invenzioni.” I should certainly think him ironical, if his whole description were not excessively laudatory. It is too high, both externally and internally, and yet with all this, there certainly is united considerable beauty in the proportions, and in the principal parts. In the front of the Villa Giulia, the upper story wants height and consequence, as from its distribution and style of ornament, it certainly ought to be the principal. The back court and nymphæum present in some parts a pleasing variety of lines; but there are too many breaks, and the whole is too intricate, and what is worse, whimsical; and Vignola when licentious has less grace than Borromino; his forte is in correct architecture. The circular gallery above, produces a very pleasing effect, and would be admirable if filled with sculpture; at present it is forlorn and naked.

The most famous work of this architect is the Palace of Capraruola, of which I have already given you some account. It forms a pentagon, with a bastion at each angle, as if it were a fortification. I do not like these pretences, nor do I admire the taste which creates to itself difficulties, in order to display ingenuity in overcoming them.

I will not detain you with the architecture of Giacomo del Duca, of Bartolommeo Ammanati, or a dozen others, whose greatest merit is, that they have not entirely lost the massive simplicity of the Roman school. I should however be inclined to point out as worthy of attention, to any person going to Rome, the Palazzo Alessandrini in the Piazza of the Santi Apostoli; it is merely a square front, with seven windows in a range, but so disposed as to give the idea of lofty and magnificent rooms; perhaps, if one were to criticize it minutely, a little too lofty, but the “too much” in architecture is infinitely preferable to the “too little.”

Ammanati erected the Palazzo Ruspoli in the Corso, the ground-floor of which is now occupied by the great coffee-house. An unbroken range of nineteen windows must have an appearance of magnificence. The doorway is not according to the original design. It is now shut up. I think the greatest fault in the arrangement depends on the too great height of the upper range of windows. This palace is admired for its staircase. All that is seen at one view is a fine flight of marble steps, each of one stone. The very frequent disposition of a Roman staircase is that of a wall in the middle, and a flight of steps supported on an inclined vault, alternately on each side, and that is the plan of the one in this palace.

The front of the Quirinal palace is attributed to Domenico Fontana, and taking it as it probably originally stood, it is not bad, although the upper story, being the principal, has not a good effect, and the design is now cut up by a great arched opening made for the benediction. This was done by Bernini. The two upper stories of the flank, I suspect (for I have no direct evidence) were added by Flaminio Ponzio: it is completely one house upon another, and nothing can be more ugly. The court is certainly very fine; it consists of a long square, surrounded by open arcades on three sides, and the fourth, which is the end farthest from the entrance, with a double row, and a clock tower; forming a front and entrance, which if not very good in itself is evidently the principal object in the court, and gives a unity and character to the whole. The design was by Ottavio Mascherini, but here also Ponzio has been at work with his abominable upper house. The great staircase is badly placed, and has no effect, though on a magnificent scale. The entrance hall I estimate at 40 feet wide, 50 high, and 100 long; the proportions are pleasing, but nothing else is good. Thence we pass through a long passage or gallery vaulted with a waggon-head, with windows on one side, to a range of apartments which was fitted up in this palace by the French, to receive, as it is said, the king of Rome; or at least begun for that purpose, and now completed for the emperor: it is, I think, the most beautiful suite I have ever seen.

The Anticamera of the Guardia Nobile is 70 feet long, 40 wide, and 50 high. It was lighted, when I saw it, only by windows in the vaulted roof, which shewed it to the best advantage. There are lower windows on each side, but these were then closed. It is surrounded by a high plinth, which is generally a much better finish than our base, dado, and surbase. The general colour is pale gray. The chairs are yellow and gold, the carpet green, the curtains white; there is no gilding on the architecture, but this combination of colours is very good, and you must not laugh at me for attending to these particulars, for if they be not essential parts of the art, they are however accessories of great importance in the effect produced. A handsome room may be quite spoilt by bad finishing, and ill chosen colours in the walls and furniture; and the defects of a poor one concealed, or at least much diminished, by good management in this respect.

Most of the apartments of the suite have coved ceilings, which is probably the best form for the rooms of a splendid mansion, but there is always a difficulty in the management of the angles. If the margin of the central flat compartment be continued down the cove, the angles are left as bent panels, which seems absurd, and it is extremely difficult to ornament them, yet this is probably the best practicable disposition. We may sometimes see an angular rib, with or without the continuation of the middle frame; but it does not look well. The chief rule to be given in this style of finish, is to make the cove large, and the framings broad and rich.

The red hangings shew the pictures best; (and there are some very fine ones in this palace:) the combination of red and yellow produces the richest effect. In one room in particular, a reddish flower on a yellow damask is very beautiful. The cornice here has gilt mouldings on a white ground. The furniture is mahogany and gold, with cushions of the damask of the hangings. The gardens occupy a fine situation, overlooking great part of Rome, and art has adorned them with the papal arms in coloured sand, slags, broken pots, and other beauties of that sort, far more lasting than the evanescent bloom of a few flowers.

In front of this palace are the celebrated horses ascribed to Phidias and Praxiteles, and their attendants; of one of which you have a cast at the King’s Mews. They are placed on each side of an obelisk, not on the same line, but forming an angle, which is to embrace a fountain; the enormous basin of which, a cup of a single block of granite, twenty-five palms in diameter, was found in several fragments in the temple of Peace. These figures do not unite perfectly well with the obelisk, and their isolated situation is not such a one as that for which they were originally intended, as may be certainly known by the unfinished backs of the figures; and by the projecting parts having terminated abruptly, certainly against a plain surface. Yet altogether they form a most noble group, and one which would do honour to any building or situation in Europe; one regrets to see the destruction which the weather has occasioned of the surfaces of the marble, furrowing lines on it, and introducing false lights and shades.

Opposite to the palace of the Quirinal is the Consulta, a modern building, erected in 1730 by the Cavaliere Fuga, but really a very handsome and well proportioned edifice. It consists of a cellar story; not a basement, because a basement story is one, which seeming to be intended for the support of another, yet is that by which we enter; a ground-floor, and a mezzanine, all very plain; above these is the principal floor, with a moderate portion of ornament, and there are windows in the frieze, indicating another story. The windows of the ground-floor have a pretty broad dressing, and a pediment over them; and the whole of these dressings has the appearance of resting on a pedestal, which again is supported on a plinth, perforated by the square opening of the lower windows. This arrangement is excellent. The mezzanine windows are perfectly plain. I do not dislike this, but it would be better if there were no mezzanine. Where the whole height exhibits but five ranges of windows, we put the principal range too high when we make it fourth from the bottom.

I have already mentioned to you the eastern portico of St. John Lateran, built by Domenico Fontana, with two ranges of arches, and of rather a licentious architecture. Indeed, Fontana paid but little attention to preserve the characteristic proportions and ornaments of the different orders. This second school of architecture is much less exact than the first; and very much inferior both in the design and execution of the details. Adjoining to the church, Fontana was employed to build the great square palace of the Lateran, but the parts are crowded, and it has not an effect by any means proportioned to its size. This artist also erected for the Cardinal Montalto, the chapel of the Presepio, in Santa Maria Maggiore; the work was stopt for want of money, and Fontana completed it at his own expense. This generosity made the fortune of Fontana, when afterwards his patron became pope, under the name of Sixtus V.

There were two other Fontanas. John, the elder brother of Domenico, was more engaged in hydraulics than in architecture. He was employed in settling the dispute between the inhabitants of Terni and those of Reati, about the disposal of the waters of the Velino, and in forming a head of water in the Aniene at Tivoli, for the supply of the town and of the mills, to which we owe the present form of the great cascade. Carlo came from the same neighbourhood, and was probably therefore of the same family, but he was not much employed as an architect. He is more known as the author of an elaborate account of St. Peter’s, than by any edifice of his own.

But what I have undertaken to give you an account of, is the principal palaces of Rome, and not the lives of their architects, and I believe I have now almost come to the end of my task. The Sapienza, at least as far as regards the front, was built by Giacomo della Porta; it purposes to be a simple range of building, between two towers, but the towers are too small, and not sufficiently marked, being in fact only distinguished by little strips of rustic, intended to have the appearance of quoins: the ground-floor of the middle part is without windows. The disposition would be picturesque, if it were well managed. The court is said to have been begun at least by M. Angelo, but it is doubtful if we see any thing of his; it is nevertheless very handsome, forming an oblong square, surrounded by two stories of arches, not very long, with the church at one end; but unfortunately that church is one of the ravings of Borromini.

There are two architects whose names are so familiar, that you will perhaps expect to hear something of their works. I mean Bernini and Borromini. Both have been mentioned in the account of churches, but in the way of palaces, I think I should hardly notice any of their productions, if it were not for the reputation of the artists. The Propaganda is by the former, but I am at a loss what to say in its praise. The front of the Palazzo Ghigi, afterwards Odescalchi, in the Piazza de’ Santi Apostoli, is also ascribed to him; it is more rich, than magnificent, more adorned, than beautiful. The proportions are however, pretty good, and the effect may be admired, though the details are very bad. The most objectionable particulars are some consoles placed in the frieze, and some wild undescribable crinkums in the ornament of the upper windows. The pilastered front is considerably extended beyond Bernini’s design, and I believe the addition injures the architecture.

Bernini’s whims are principally in the details; the general disposition is often simple and good. His capitals, entablatures, and ornaments to the doors and windows, are capricious, and in general very ugly, merely that they may not be like what had been done before. The childish and licentious love of novelty which this artist exhibited in the ornaments, pervades every part of the designs of Borromini.

The immense Palazzo Barberini was begun by Carlo Maderno, continued by Bernini, and finished by Borromini. The wings are beneath criticism, and have no sort of correspondence in character with the centre. This centre is composed of three ranges of arcades, nearly equal; the first adorned with Doric half-columns, the second with Ionic half-columns, and the third with Corinthian pilasters. This equality of parts, which ought to be distinguished, renders the design confused and displeasing. The principal story in a house, and probably in every building, should be distinctly marked, and separated from the basement below, and from the subordinate parts above it, otherwise neither the eye, nor the understanding, can approve of the design. Considered of themselves, the two lower ranges of arches are good, the upper is very bad.

Borromini has left sufficient marks of his interference in the Palazzo Falconieri, where he has made two equal doorways, and put the staircase as much out of the way as possible. His elevations, with all their faults, are better than his plans, for notwithstanding his extravagance, which at last amounted to absolute madness, he had some feeling of beauty; though I would not be understood to praise wholly, any one of his productions. He is said to have been concerned in the Doria Pamfili, in the Corso, a building monstrous in every sense, and yet, in spite of its absurdity, the long range of similar windows loaded with enormous mouldings, and overcharged in all parts, produces an effect of great grandeur, as seen obliquely in the narrow Corso. This palace, extensive as it appears in its present state, has never been completed, and is a mere fragment of the entire design. It is now perhaps, hardly equal in extent to the Altieri, which is of better architecture, without being good.