The wonders of the world

The colossal figure of Jupiter Pluvius is found at Pratolino, in Italy. The space in which it stands is planted round, on all sides, with lofty fir and beech trees, the trunks of which are hid by a wood of laurel, wherein niches have been cut for statues. The middle part is a green lawn, and at a little distance, is a semicircular basin of water, behind which rises the colossal statue of the Apennine Jupiter. Enchased, as it were, in the groves, it can only be surveyed in front, and from a point of view marked by the artist, in the adjoining engraving. Elevated on a base to appearance irregular, and of itself lofty, at which the astonished spectator arrives through two balustrades that run round the basin, this colossus, a view of which is given in the cut above, looks, at first, like a pyramidal rock, on which the hand of man might have executed some project analogous to what the statuary Stasicrates had conceived respecting Mount Athos,^[10] and which Alexander nobly rejected. But soon he recognizes the genius of a pupil and worthy rival of Michael Angelo.

It was, in fact, John of Bologna, who, by an inspiration derived from the ancients, executed their beau ideal of Jupiter Pluvius. This name seems more suitable to the figure than that of Father Apennine, which has been assigned to it. The style, in point of magnitude, is of the largest, and the character of the head is in perfect conformity to the subject. His brows and front brave the tempest, and seem the region of the hoar-frost; his locks descend in icicles on his broad shoulders, and the flakes of his immense beard resemble stalactites; his limbs seem covered with hoar-frost, but with no alteration in their contour, or in the form of the muscles. To add to the extraordinary effect, about the head is a kind of crown, formed of little jetteaux, that drop on the shoulders and trickle down the figure, shedding a sort of supernatural luster, when irradiated by the sun.

It would be difficult to imagine a composition more picturesque and perfect in all its proportions. The figure harmonizes with the surrounding objects, but its real magnitude is best shown by comparison with the groups promenading about the water, and which in comparison, at a certain distance, resemble pigmies. A nearer approach exhibits a truly striking proportion of the limbs. A number of apartments have been fabricated in the interior, and within the head is a beautiful belvedere, wherein the eyeballs serve for windows. The extremities are of stone; the trunk is of bricks overlaid with a mortar or cement that has contracted the hardness of marble, and which, when fresh, it was easy to model in due forms.

It is related in the life of John of Bologna, that several of his pupils, unaccustomed to work with the hand, while engaged in this work, forgot the correct standard of dimensions, both as to the eye and hand, and that Father Apennine and his enormous muscles made them spoil a number of statues. The greatest difficulty in the workmanship was to impress on the mass, the character of monumental durability. The artist has succeeded in uniting the rules of the statuary with those of construction, in combining the beauty of the one with the solidity of the other. All the parts refer to a common center of gravity, and the members are arranged so as to serve for a scaffolding to the body, without impairing its dignity or magnitude. The colossal statues of the ancients may have suggested the idea of this configuration, or as before hinted, the artist may have aimed to represent the Jupiter Pluvius. However, it seems probable that Poussin, in his painting of the plains of Sicily, has, from this, formed his Polyphemus, seated on the summit of a lofty rock. From the beauty of its proportions, and skill in the execution, all artists who have to work on colossal figures, ought to cherish the preservation of this, as an imposing object, that can not be too profoundly studied.

THE LEANING, OR HANGING TOWER OF PISA, IN TUSCANY.

This celebrated tower, a view of which is given in the cut below, likewise called the Campanile, on account of its having been erected for the purpose of containing bells, stands in a square close to the cathedral of Pisa. It is built entirely of white marble, and is a beautiful cylinder of eight stories, each adorned with a round of columns, rising one above another. It inclines so far on one side from the perpendicular, that dropping a plummet from the top, which is one hundred and eighty-eight feet in hight, it falls sixteen feet from the base. Much pains have been taken by connoisseurs to prove that this was done purposely by the architect; but it is evident that the inclination has proceeded from another cause, namely, from an accidental subsidence of the foundation on that side. The pillars are there considerably sunk; and this is also the case with the very threshold, which shows that the position of the building is accidental, caused by the settling of the ground on one side, and not, as some think, by the ambition of the architect, endeavoring to show how far he could with safety deviate from the perpendicular, and thus display a novel specimen of his art; for had this been his design, he would have shortened the pilasters on that side, so as to exhibit them entire, without the appearance of sinking.

This tower, from its singular appearance and position, has attracted the notice of all travelers passing near Pisa, who, of course, fail not to visit it. We give the impressions of two of these: Professor Silliman, who saw it in 1851; and Mr. Hillard, who was there at a still later date. The former says, “This structure has excited so much surprise, and been seen with such deep interest by thousands of travelers for more than six hundred years, that it is almost universally known, and it is not difficult for one who has not seen it to form a clear and distinct conception of it. Still, on approaching the tower, you are strongly impressed by its grandeur and beauty; and when you ascend it, you obtain an almost overwhelming conception of its majesty; although it is perfectly safe; and if you do not feel apprehension that it will fall, you may not be able to keep that idea quite out of your mind. The hight of the leaning tower is one hundred and seventy-eight feet, the thickness of the wall ten feet, and the diameter is fifty feet at the base. It is composed of eight stories, all adorned by columns and arches. Its form is slightly conical. It is ascended by three hundred and thirty very easy steps, very well lighted, and it is a pleasant journey to the top. There are seven bells in this grand belfry; they were rung while we were near, and the sound is very soft and musical, especially of the great bell, which weighs twelve thousand pounds, and is placed upon the side of the tower, opposite to that which overhangs. It was this bell which was formerly used to give notice of public executions. The leaning of the tower of Pisa was evidently caused by unequal subsidence of the ground; and it is obvious that the architect, as the work rose, before the tower was half up, perceived it, and he endeavored to counteract it as far as possible by balancing his materials. After a particular hight, the columns are higher on the leaning side, and, of course, shorter on the other. The builder appeared to be aiming to bring the upper part of the tower into a vertical position, although he did not succeed. It is about thirteen or fourteen feet beyond the vertical; but the center of gravity still falls within the base; and as the blocks of stone, being now firmly united by cement, can not slide upon each other, they, in fact, form one mass. The walls are, moreover, fortified by iron bars, and it is not probable that anything short of an earthquake can produce its downfall. I can not think with some, that it requires strong nerves to ascend the leaning tower of Pisa. We ascended with a perfect consciousness of security, and it is certain that were it filled in every story by an armed host, it would not quiver or vibrate. The view from the summit of the tower is most splendid. The beautiful city is at your feet, and you are in the midst of it. The Mediterranean is in the horizon, Leghorn is visible in the distance, the Arno shows its windings, here and there, and a rich plain in full cultivation reaches far inland to the lofty Apennines, in the vicinity of Lucca. It is said, that, in clear weather, Corsica may be discerned. This tower is one of the most beautiful objects in Italy, and one would never be tired with looking at it or from it; so beautiful is it, that its leaning becomes a mere incident, interesting indeed, but the tower possesses commanding attractions independently of this circumstance. We can not descend from it without remembering that here Galileo made his decisive experiments upon the law of the descent of falling bodies, and upon the vibration of the pendulum. His great name is associated with the permanent glory of his country, and will be honored to the end of time, while his persecutors are remembered only to be despised and detested.”

Mr. Hillard, the other tourist to whom we have alluded, says, “On a bright, sunny morning, I first saw the leaning tower of Pisa. This piece of architectural eccentricity was, and I suppose is, one of the common-places of geography, and is put into the same educational state-room with the wall of China, the great tun of Heidelberg, and the natural bridge of Virginia. I can not recall the time when its name was not familiar to me; and now, here it was, bodily before me; no vision, no delusion, but a very decided fact, with a most undeniable inclination on one side; so much so, that a nervous person would not sleep soundly in the house that stands under its lee, on a windy night. This singular structure is simply a campanile, or bell-tower, appurtenant to the cathedral, as is the general custom in Italy. It is not merely quaint, but beautiful; that is, take away the quaintness, and the beauty will remain. It is built of white marble, wonderfully fresh and pure, when we remember that nearly seven centuries have swept over it. I will not describe it, nor give its dimensions, for these may be found in every guide-book, and nearly every book of travels; nor will I condense the arguments which have been called forth by the question, whether the inclination be accidental or designed. To one who has been on the spot, and observed the spongy nature of the soil, as evidenced by the slight subsidence of the cathedral, there is really no room for argument or doubt. The ascent is very easy and gradual. The summit is secured by double rails, and the inclination is less perceptible when on the top than when it is observed from the ground. There is no peculiar sense of danger to interfere with the full enjoyment of the beauty of the view, which embraces mountain and plain, land and sea; a combination at once varied, extensive and picturesque. This was my first sight of the Mediterranean, whose blue waters blended in the distant horizon with the blue of the sky. To the eye, it was but common water reflecting the universal sky; but a man must be very insensible, not to recognize peculiar elements in his first view of that many-nationed sea, upon whose shores so much of the poetry and history of the world has grown.”

THE COLISEUM AT ROME.

On approaching the majestic ruins of this vast amphitheater, the most stupendous work of the kind antiquity can boast, a sweet and gently moving astonishment is the first sensation which seizes the beholder; and soon afterward the grand spectacle swims before him like a cloud. To give an adequate idea of this sublime building, is a task to which the pen is unequal: it must be seen to be duly appreciated. It is upward of sixteen hundred feet in circumference, and of such an elevation that it has been justly observed by a writer, (Ammiamus,) “the human eye scarcely measures its hight.” Nearly the one-half of the external circuit still remains, consisting of four tiers of arcades, adorned with columns of four orders, the Doric, Ionian, Corinthian, and composite. Its extent, as well as its elevation, may be estimated by the number of spectators it contained, amounting, according to some accounts, to eighty thousand, and agreeably to others, to one hundred thousand.

Thirty thousand captive Jews are said to have been engaged by Vespasian, whose name it occasionally bears, in the construction of this vast edifice; and they have not discredited their forefathers, the builders of Solomon’s temple, by the performance. It was not finished, however, until the reign of his son Titus, who, on the first day of its being opened, introduced into the arena not less than five thousand, or, according to Dio Cassius, nine thousand wild beasts, between whom, and the primitive Christians held captive by the Romans, combats were fought. At the conclusion of this cruel spectacle the whole place was put under water, and two fleets, named the Corcyrian and the Corinthian, represented a naval engagement. To render the vapor from such a multitude of persons less noxious, sweet-scented water, and frequently wine mixed with saffron, was showered down from a grated work above, on the heads of the spectators.

The Roman emperors who succeeded Titus were careful of the preservation of this superb edifice: even the voluptuous Heliogabalus caused it to be repaired after a great fire. The rude Goths, who sacked the city of Rome, were contented with despoiling it of its internal ornaments, but respected the structure itself. The Christians, however, through an excess of zeal, have not been satisfied with allowing it gradually to decay. Pope Paul II. had as much of it leveled as was necessary to furnish materials for building the palace of St. Mark, and his pernicious example was imitated by Cardinal Riario, in the construction of what is now called the Chancery. Lastly, a portion of it was employed by Pope Paul III. in the erection of the palace Farnese. Notwithstanding all these dilapidations, there still exists enough of it to inspire the spectator with awe. Immense masses appear fastened to and upon one another without any mortar or cement; and these alone, from their structure, are calculated for a duration of many thousands of years. Occasionally, where the destroyers have not effectually attained their object, the half-loosened masses appear to be holden in the air, as if by some invisible power; for the wide interstices among them leave no other support than their joints, which seem every moment as if about to yield unavoidably to the superior force of gravitation. “They will fall;” “they must fall;” “they are falling;” is, and has been the language of all beholders during the vast periods through which this stupendous edifice has thus hung together in the air.

Silliman, speaking of the Coliseum, says, “It is the most magnificent and imposing monument of ancient Rome. After all the spoliation it has suffered for many centuries, by which two-thirds of its materials have been plundered, to build palaces and other structures, it still stands a stupendous ruin, solemn, awful, and even in desolation beautiful. Its position is very near to the forum, and we pass to it through the arch of Titus. We felicitate ourselves that we saw the almost perfect amphitheater at Nismes, as from that, and even from the less perfect one at Arles, we obtained those strong and correct impressions, which have enabled us more justly to appreciate the gigantic ruin, which still towers in venerable majesty, above both the Rome of the Cæsars, and the Rome of the popes. The Coliseum was begun A. D. 73, by Vespasian, and finished by Titus, A. D. 80, ten years after the conquest of Jerusalem. Church tradition states that its architect was Gaudentius, a Christian martyr, and that some twelve thousand captive Jews and Christians were employed in its construction. It is built chiefly of travertine, although there are large quantities of bricks and tufa in the structure. Its form is elliptical: there are four stories adorned by columns: the lower is Doric, thirty feet high: the second is Ionic, thirty-three feet high; the third, Corinthian, fifty-four feet, and above this, was the frieze and cornice. The hight of the outer wall was one hundred and fifty-seven English feet. The longer axis, walls included, was six hundred and twenty feet; the shorter, five hundred and thirteen; circumference, seventeen hundred and seventy feet; the arena, two hundred and eighty-seven feet long and a hundred and eighty feet broad. The superficial area was nearly six acres. The arches were numbered, externally, from one to eighty. One arch is not numbered, and this is believed to have been the private entrance of the emperor. There were, within the amphitheater, four groups of seats, corresponding, as at Nismes, to the different orders of people. The seats could receive eighty-seven thousand persons, or one hundred and ten thousand, including those who stood. The interior has been very much despoiled, and the seats are almost ruined; but a staircase has been constructed, by which we ascended securely to the top of the building, and enjoyed a grand view, not only by day, but by a full moon. Byron’s splendid description in Manfred, does it no more than justice.”

The building, as may be seen in the cut on the preceding page, is much decayed; and it is, also, “deformed by innumerable holes on the outside, believed to have been produced by the extraction of the dowels of bronze, which were originally placed in the joints to keep the stones in place. At the dedication of the amphitheater by Titus, five thousand, or according to some, nine thousand wild beasts were slaughtered, and the savage exhibition went on during one hundred days. On the occasion of the triumph of Trajan over the Dacians, the shows were continued one hundred and twenty-three days; eleven thousand animals were slain, and one thousand gladiators matched against each other. Besides malefactors, captives and slaves, freeborn citizens, even those of noble birth, hired themselves as gladiators; and women volunteered on the arena, to exhibit their skill in murder. The barbarous gladiatorial games were continued during four hundred years; the last show of the wild beasts was under Theodoric, and these brutal entertainments were abolished by Honorius.”

THE PANTHEON.

The Pantheon, says a late tourist, “is the most perfect, as a whole, of all the structures which have come down to us from ancient Rome. The invasion of time alone would not have injured it materially, and, notwithstanding the spoliations of popes and other depredators, it still remains a grand and beautiful building. It stands in a dirty, disagreeable herb market, and the accumulations of earth and rubbish have almost entirely covered its lofty steps, which were seven in number, until its floor is now nearly on a level with the street. Its dome was covered with gilt bronze, and its portico lined with the same metal, which was plundered to be cast for the pillars and other parts of the baldacchino in St. Peter’s. On this occasion, four hundred and fifty thousand pounds were taken. The emperor Constans II. had previously, in 657, stripped the roof, and plundered the silver from the interior of the dome. He destined these things for the ornament of his imperial palace at Constantinople; but being murdered at Syracuse, on his return, the plunder was borne to Alexandria. It was, originally, the spoils of Egypt after the battle of Actium, and now returned to Egypt again. The external facings of polished marble, have also been torn off; but although thus despoiled, the Pantheon is still magnificent, notwithstanding that the fires have often heated it, the overflowing Tiber has deluged its floor, and the rains have poured in at the only opening, which is in the dome. This is a circular hole in the center of the dome, twenty-eight feet in diameter, and is said to have been once glazed. The rich marble facings and magnificent columns of the interior, still remain. The beautiful columns are of polished granite and porphyry. The niches, originally filled by the statues of the pagan gods, have not been disturbed; but they are now occupied by saints, and virgins, and other symbols of Catholic worship. The interior is one vast room, one hundred and forty-three feet in diameter, exclusive of the walls, which are twenty feet thick, and it is of the same hight, one hundred and forty-three feet: the dome occupies one-half of the hight. It is not inaptly illustrated by the rotunda of the Capitol at Washington, which, although smaller, is of the same form. When in the Roman Pantheon, you look up to its sky-lighted dome, there is an impression of simple grandeur which even St. Peter’s does not produce:

“An inscription on the frieze records that the Pantheon was erected by Agrippa, B. C. anno 26; and another inscription on the architrave records its subsequent restoration by Septimius Severus. In 608, Boniface obtained from the emperor Phocas permission to consecrate the Pantheon as a Christian church, which, doubtless, saved it from destruction. How much is it to be regretted that a similar protection had not saved the Coliseum and other precious works, whose ruins bear testimony to the misdirected zeal of the Christian church in early ages. The portico is one hundred and ten feet long and forty-four deep. It contains sixteen Corinthian monolithic columns of oriental granite, forty six and one-half feet high and five feet in diameter, with capitals and bases of Greek marble. The pediment still shows where the figures in bass-relief were attached.

“The magnificent bronze doors are thirty-nine feet high, and the entire opening is nineteen wide. It is believed that they are the original doors erected by Agrippa. No doubt they would have been used for the decoration of St. Peter’s, had not the Pantheon been consecrated as a church. The interior cornice at the bottom of the dome has been perfectly preserved, with its rich sculptures. The pavement of the Pantheon is of porphyry, alternating with other polished stones in geometric figures. Some antiquarians have argued that the Pantheon was originally an appendage of the baths of Agrippa, and that the portico was of subsequent construction, when the building was converted into a temple. However this may be, it is one of the most interesting structures of ancient or modern times; and had it not been most shamefully robbed it would have stood to-day perfect in beauty as it was when Christ died, and when Paul preached and suffered in Rome. We bent with deep interest over the grave of Raphael, whose remains still slumber beneath the pavement of the Pantheon, marked only by a humble slab of marble level with the floor. It is well known that until 1833 his place of interment was only matter of conjecture; in that year, owing to unexpected evidence, the present grave was opened in presence of the pope and numerous artists. The skull was of a singularly fine form; and its discovery spoiled the speculations of the phrenologists on another skull in the academy of St. Luke’s, which had before been supposed to be that of the great painter.”

ROMAN AMPHITHEATER AT NISMES.

Nismes, anciently Nemausis, was formerly a flourishing colony of Romans, established by Augustus Cæsar, after the battle of Actium. Among its splendid monuments of antiquity, the amphitheater, being infinitely better preserved than those of Rome and Verona, is the finest monument of the kind now extant. It was built in the reign of Antonius Pius, who contributed a large sum of money toward its erection. It is of an oval figure, one thousand and eighty feet in circumference, sufficiently capacious to contain twenty thousand spectators. The architecture is of the Tuscan order, sixty feet high, composed of two open galleries, built one over another, consisting each of sixty arcades. The entrance into the arena was by four great gates, with porticos; and the seats, of which there were thirty-two rows, sufficient to contain some twenty-five thousand people, rising one above another, consisted of great blocks of stone, many of which still remain. Over the north gate, appear two bulls, in alto-relievo, extremely well executed, emblems which, according to the usage of the Romans, signified that the amphitheater was erected at the expense of the people. In other parts are heads, busts, and other sculptures in bass-relief.

This magnificent structure stands in the lower part of the city, and strikes the spectator with awe and veneration. The external architecture is almost entire in its whole circuit. It was fortified as a citadel by the Visigoths, in the beginning of the sixth century: they raised within it a castle, two towers of which are still extant, and surrounded it with a broad and deep moat, which was filled up in the thirteenth century. In all the subsequent wars to which the city of Nismes was exposed, it served as the last refuge of the citizens, and sustained a great number of successive attacks; so that its fine preservation is almost miraculous.

Silliman says of this amphitheater, that it gives a very exact idea of the Coliseum at Rome, though it is of course smaller. “It is built,” he adds, “of limestone in immense blocks, laid in courses with perfect regularity and without mortar. Mortise holes in the center of the upper surface of each block show that the Romans employed the same means still in use, to raise and handle large masses of stone. The accuracy of the masonry seems the more remarkable if we consider the elliptical form of the structure, making all the vertical joints converge to the foci of the ellipse. In one place we saw a line of light through a joint of this sort where the wall was at least four feet thick. The passages, of course, all expand outward also, and thus admit of a speedy evacuation of the amphitheater through its sixty vomitoriæ. The dimensions of this ellipse are four hundred and thirty-seven by three hundred and twenty-two feet. By walking deliberately around the structure, these dimensions are more readily realized than by a numerical statement: the circuit is a quarter of a mile. The cornice was decorated with carving and finished with a frieze; except in the portion corresponding to nine or ten arches, the capping and cornice are complete around the entire circuit. In the part where the cornice is deficient, the Saracens, more than eleven hundred years ago, erected two towers, which were destroyed by Charles Martel, and fire applied by him disfigured the amphitheater. As it was all of stone he could not destroy it, but the wood placed in its arches and corridors burned as in a furnace. He wished to destroy the building, which had often been used as a fortress in the numerous wars that followed the downfall of the Roman empire. He succeeded only in blackening it with smoke which remains to this day. The heat, however, caused some portions of the limestone to flake off; but very little progress was made toward the destruction of the amphitheater. The building is national property, and the French government has restored many of the arches, laid anew the pavements, and has taken precautions to guard against further dilapidation. The exterior of the building is, indeed, somewhat corroded by time, but had war and violence been restrained, this noble monument of antiquity would have remained, an architectural wonder to all future ages. Many of the rows of marble seats remain entire, and enable the observer perfectly to understand the whole arrangement. The emperor and his household entered by a lower and special corridor, and the vestal virgins by a corresponding opening on the opposite side. The senators and patricians entered higher up, while the plebeians, entering still higher, occupied the more elevated positions, and the slaves the uppermost of all. The police also had their appointed place.

“Projecting outward from the cornice at regular intervals were stones, pierced with holes six inches or more in diameter, through which passed poles to sustain the awning, the lower ends of the poles being sustained by corbel stones projecting from the wall below. The amphitheater had no other covering but the awning, and this, on occasions of the use of the building for public games, was stretched upon ropes crossing from side to side of the arena. This covering secured the spectators from sun and rain, while it permitted free ventilation. The gladiators entered on one side of the arena and the wild beasts on the other, and probably the same rule prevailed when gladiator was to contend with gladiator. Here man fought his fellow-man, or with the fierce wild beast, to pamper the cruel appetite for blood. Strange feelings of awe and grandeur are excited by seeing the vast space which was so often filled with human beings, and one’s mind runs wild with excitement when he sees in imagination, the lion’s eye glancing at the grating until he was enlarged to spring upon his victim. The weeds and grass now grow among the seats, and green-sward covers the once ensanguined arena. The little lizards leap from stone to stone, and their brief generations are now the sole tenants of these ancient piles.”piles.”

TRAJAN’S PILLAR.

This historical column was erected at Rome by the emperor Trajan to commemorate his victories over the Dacians, and is considered the masterpiece of the splendid monuments of art elevated by that emperor in the Roman capital. Its celebrity is chiefly owing to the beautifully wrought bass-reliefs, containing about two thousand figures, with which it is ornamented. It stands in the middle of a square, to form which, a hill, one hundred and forty feet in hight, was leveled; and was intended, as appears by the inscription on its base, both as a tomb for the emperor, and to display the hight of the hill, which had thus with incredible labor, been reduced to a plane surface. It was erected in the year 114 of the Christian era; and the emperor Constantine, two centuries and a half afterward, regarded it as the most magnificent structure by which Rome was even at that time embellished. This pillar is built of white marble, its base consisting of twelve stones of enormous size, being raised on a socle, or foot of eight steps; and within it is a staircase illuminated by forty-four windows. Its hight, equaling that of the hill which had been leveled, to give place to the large square called the Forum Romanum, is one hundred and forty feet, being thirty-five feet less elevated than the Antonine column.

COLUMN OF ANTONINE.

This grand column is one of the most conspicuous monuments of ancient Rome. It is near the present post-office, in a busy, populous square—the Piazza Colonna—in the midst of the modern city. The hight of the column of Antonine is one hundred and sixty-eight feet; diameter, eleven and one-half; the pedestal is twenty-five feet and eight inches high. It was erected by the senate and people of Rome to Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, A. D. 174. Bass-reliefs, as in Trajan’s column, run spirally around the monument, representing military movements and victories. One of the reliefs represents Jupiter as dropping rain from his extended arms. This has been supposed to allude to the effect attributed to the prayers of the Christian legion from Mytilene, in the army of the emperor, who, at his request, prayed for rain when there was a great drought. The column is composed of pieces of white marble, and in the interior are one hundred and ninety steps lighted by forty-two loopholes. By a strange incongruity, a statue of St. Paul, ten feet high, has been made to replace the emperor on the top of the column. This was done by Sixtus V. It is said that the drawn sword which the apostle holds in his hand proves a conductor to the lightning, and that the column has been several times injured.

MAISON CARRE, AT NISMES.

If the amphitheater of Nismes strikes the spectator with an idea of greatness and sublimity, the Maison Carré enchants him with the most exquisite beauties of architecture and sculpture. This fine structure, as is evidenced by the inscription discovered on its front, was built by the inhabitants of Nismes, in honor of Caius Cæsar, and Lucius Cæsar, grandchildren of Augustus, by his daughter Julia, the wife of Agrippa. It stands upon a pediment six feet high, is eighty-two feet long, thirty-five broad, and thirty-seven in hight, without reckoning the pediment. The body of it is adorned with twenty columns engaged in the wall; and the peristyle, which is open, with ten detached pillars that support the entablature. They are all of the Corinthian order, fluted and embellished with capitals of the most exquisite sculpture: the frieze and cornice are much admired, and the foliage is esteemed inimitable. The proportions of the building are so happily blended, as to give it an air of majesty and grandeur, which the most indifferent spectator can not behold without emotion. To enjoy these beauties, it is not necessary to be a connoisseur in architecture: they are indeed so exquisite that they may be visited with a fresh appetite for years together. What renders them still more interesting is, that they are entire, and very little affected, either by the ravages of time, or the havoc of war. Cardinal Alberoni declared this elegant structure to be a jewel which deserved a cover of gold to preserve it from external injuries. An Italian painter, perceiving a small part of the roof repaired by modern French masonry, tore his hair, and exclaimed in a rage, “Zounds! what do I see? Harlequin’s hat on the head of Augustus!” In its general architectural effect, as well as in all its details of sculpture and ornament, the Maison Carré of Nismes is ravishingly beautiful, and can not be paralleled by any structure of ancient or modern times. That which most excites the astonishment of the admiring spectator, is to see it standing entire, like the effect of enchantment, after such a succession of ages, subjected as several of them were, to the ravages of the barbarians who overran the most interesting parts of Europe.

In the progress of many centuries, the Maison Carré has been used as a Christian church, and also for many ordinary purposes, some of them of the lowest character. The fine Corinthian columns of this building have been much corroded by time, and two that were contiguous, were mutilated in the flutings to make more room for the passage of a farmer’s cart when the temple was used as a barn or stable; and, to afford more accommodations, walls were built up between the columns of the portico. In the eleventh century it was used as town-house, or hôtel de ville. When attached to the Augustine convent it was employed as a sepulcher; and in the days of terror, the revolutionary tribunal held its meetings here. The building is at present occupied as a museum. It contains many interesting objects, especially Roman antiquities: the pictures are not remarkable. There is in it a beautiful mosaic pavement taken up entire from a Roman house. This temple is supposed to have been only the center of a much larger building, extending with wings and long colonnades to the right and left, whose foundations have been discovered.

THE PONT DU GARD.

This celebrated Roman monument is distant about three leagues from the city of Nismes. Instead of finding it in a ruinous condition, as he might reasonably have expected, the traveler, on approaching it, is agreeably disappointed when he perceives that it looks as fresh as a modern bridge of a few years’ standing. The climate is either so pure and dry, or the freestone with which it is built is so hard, that the very angles of the stones remain as acute as if they had been recently cut. A few of them have, indeed, dropped out of the arches; but the whole is admirably preserved, and presents the eye with a piece of architecture, so unaffectedly elegant, so simple, and, at the same time, so majestic, that it defies the most phlegmatic spectator to view it without admiration. It was raised in the Augustan age, by the Roman colony of Nismes, to convey a stream of water between two mountains, for the use of that city. By means of it the arena of the amphitheater could be flooded for the naumachiæ. It stands over the river Gardon, a beautiful pastoral stream, brawling among rocks which form a number of pretty natural cascades, and overshadowed on each side by trees and shrubs, which add greatly to the rural beauties of the scene.

This elegant structure consists of three bridges, or tiers of arches, one above another; the first of six, the second of eleven, and the third of thirty-six arches. The hight, comprehending the aqueduct on the top, is one hundred and seventy-four feet and three inches, and the length, between the two mountains, which it unites, is seven hundred and twenty-three feet. The order of the architecture is Tuscan; but its symmetry is inconceivable. By scooping the bases of the pilasters of the second tier of arches, a passage was made for foot-travelers; but although the ancients far excelled the moderns in point of beauty and magnificence, they certainly fell short of them in point of convenience. The inhabitants of Avignon have, in this particular, improved the Roman work by a new bridge by apposition, constructed on the same plan with that of the lower tier of arches, of which indeed it seems to be a part, affording a broad and commodious passage over the river, to horses and carriages. The aqueduct for the continuance of which this superb work was raised, conveyed a stream of pure water from the fountain of Eure, near the city of Uzes, and extended nearly six leagues in length.

ANCIENT AQUEDUCT NEAR ROME.

In this connection, we may notice an ancient Roman aqueduct, the arches of which may still be seen by the tourist as he approaches the “eternal city;” and a view of which is given in the cut on the next page. It reminds us, in its general outlines, of the Pont du Gard which has just been described, except that the latter has three tiers of arches while this has but two; and the styles of architecture in the two are different. These immense structures, carried for miles over valleys and through hills, were reared by the ancients at the cost of vast expense and labor, that they might supply themselves with pure water for domestic and public uses. And their ruins still bear witness to the gigantic scale on which such works were planned and completed, at an age and among a people that we are accustomed to think of as far inferior to our own.

THE ROMAN FORUM.

There has been much discussion as to the form and extent of the Roman forum, and as to the use of some of the structures whose ruins are found within its area. Sometimes the word forum was applied to market-places—forum boarium, fora venalia, as well as to places where justice was administered, fora civilia. The great Roman Forum at the foot of the Capitol, and contiguous to the Palatine hill, was, no doubt, intended by Romulus for the assemblies of the people. It was adorned with an immense number of Grecian statues, among which were twelve gilt statues of the principal gods. Numerous relics of its former grandeur now fill the campo vaccino—broken porticos, ruined arches, single columns, and the remains of temples. To each of these belongs a story of curious antiquarian research. Without wishing to follow the beaten path of all travelers, it is impossible to pass these world-renowned memorials of a by-gone age without some brief notice. One of these is

THE ARCH OF SEVERUS.

The arch of Septimius Severus stands in the Forum, on the eastern front of the Capitol. The soil and rubbish there accumulated was fifteen feet deep, but the ground was excavated under Napoleon, and the whole of this fine monument was thus brought into view. It was erected A. D. 205, by the senate and people of Rome, in honor of the emperor and his sons, on account of their conquests of the Parthians and Persians. This is recorded upon the monument, in an inscription which is still perfectly legible. The monument was constructed entirely of Grecian marble. There is a large and lofty middle arch, and there are two lateral arches. In one of the columns is a staircase of fifty steps, leading to the top, on which there was originally a car drawn by six horses, containing the figures of the emperor and of his two sons, Geta and Caracalla. Geta was murdered by his brother, and the inscription which alluded to both was mutilated by Caracalla, so as to leave out the name of Geta; this obliteration is obvious on inspection. There are on the panels many figures in high relief, representing deeds of war, in which the Romans so much delighted.

THE ARCH OF TITUS.

This, which is one of the most beautiful of the Roman arches, and a view of which is given in the cut on the next page, was erected to commemorate the conquest of Jerusalem by Titus. It stands at the eastern end of the Forum, and the via sacra passes beneath it. It is built of Grecian marble, and has only a single arch, with fluted columns on each side. On the side toward the Forum there is a mutilated figure of Victory standing over the arch. The side toward the Coliseum is the most perfect; and nearly all the cornice and the antæ are preserved. This arch has a peculiar interest attached to it, because it illustrates Scripture history. On one of the bass-reliefs, inside of the arch, a procession are bearing the spoils of the temple—the golden candlestick and the silver trumpets—the only authentic representations of those sacred objects, and perfectly corresponding with the description given by Josephus. The seven-branched candlestick itself was lost in the Tiber, and now reposes amidst its yellow sands.

THE CAPITOL.

The modern Capitol is erected on the foundation of the ancient. The huge blocks of peperino stone which underlie the present Capitol rise from the area of the Forum, far below; and it is quite obvious that the modern structure is superimposed. The Capitol hill is the highest ground in old Rome; and the summit of its tower is, as already observed, higher than any other building in Rome east of the Tiber. We ascend to the present Capitol from the west, by a series of marble steps. On the right and left, at the top of the stairs, are antique equestrian and colossal statues of Castor and Pollux, mounted upon high pedestals. In the middle of the area, in front of the Capitol, is the colossal equestrian statue believed to be that of Marcus Aurelius. It is in bronze, and is a most noble specimen of ancient art. The emperor is truly imperial, and the horse is admirable; it can not be exceeded in symmetry and grandeur. This statue, had it not been mistaken for a statue of Constantine, would have shared the fate of other productions of pagan art. It was originally gilded, and the gold is still visible upon it here and there. The head and neck of the horse are copied by modern sculptors, as being the best specimens of the form of this part of the noble animal in existence.

THE MUSEUM OF THE CAPITOL.

This museum is situated in two wings, on the right and left of the Capitoline hill. They do not form a part of the same structure. It is exceedingly instructive, as the statues are very numerous; and we can not doubt that they exhibit faithfully the persons of the ancient Romans, with their features and costumes. Many of the most distinguished Roman emperors, poets, historians, and orators, are represented in marble or bronze; Trajan, Caligula, Hadrian, Nero, Nerva, Julius Cæsar and his murderer Brutus, Cicero, Virgil, Caracalla, and a multitude more. Some of the statues are colossal. There are several parts of an immense statue of Nero, which was designed to be one hundred and fifty feet high, and to rival in altitude the Coliseum itself. In crime and infamy, he was indeed a colossus. His countenance has a groveling, animal expression, very strongly marked in a bust contained in a private museum, where, as if to correspond with the blackness of his character, he is sculptured in basalt, or black marble.

“We saw in the museum of the Capitol,” says Professor Silliman, “the original of that bust of Cicero, which represents him as a large man with a full face and round head, the very reverse of the bust formerly said to be Cicero’s, and which I saw in 1805 in the Earl of Pembroke’s palace, near Salisbury, England. That bust made Cicero’s features lean, muscular, and sharp, with a wart on the right cheek, near the nose. Artists and antiquaries have no doubt, I believe, of the authenticity of the bust in the Capitol, which bears his name, and was found in a villa of Mecænas. An excellent copy of this bust, by our countryman, Crawford, is in the Trumbull gallery in Yale college, along with copies by the same artist of the busts of Demosthenes and Homer, the originals of which we saw in the Capitol museum. In this museum is also to be seen the celebrated Venus of the Capitol, to which a separate saloon is devoted. The dying Gladiator is in a room with other noble antique statues. Byron has completely embalmed this figure in his memorable description in the fifth canto of Childe Harold’s pilgrimage. It is probable that the artist himself, could he have read the passage, would have confessed that it expressed his sentiment even more perfectly than the marble. Any one who has traversed Italy with Byron in his hand, will readily appreciate not only the wonderful fidelity of his descriptions, but that all other language seems poverty-stricken and unmeaning when compared with the masterly touches by which he has painted the various monuments of antiquity which adorn his pictured page. For example, besides the passage just alluded to, we have his tomb of Cecilia Metella, the Thunder-stricken Nurse of Rome! the Coliseum, the Pantheon, and St. Peter’s, &c. The original bronze wolf, representing the early nursing of Romulus and Remus, is in the Capitol museum. The little urchins, also in bronze, are eagerly drawing from the savage wet-nurse the means of life. This fable affords not an unapt symbol of the ferocious disposition of Romulus, who slew his brother, and of most of the Roman people, of whatever rank, to whom human blood seems to have been a delightful nectar. There has been much discussion as to the antiquity of this wolf. It appears probable that this is the image referred to by Cicero; and it bears marks of having been struck by lightning, according to tradition. There is a large piece of metal torn out of one of the hind legs of the wolf, and this is stated by tradition to have happened from a thunder-stroke, (to which, of course, Byron alludes in his immortal lines,) which fell upon the wolf the moment when it was announced in the Capitol that Julius Cæsar was dead.”

ST. PETER’S OF ROME.

The piazza of this masterpiece of architecture, a view of which as seen from the Tiber is given in the cut on the next page, is altogether sublime. The double colonnade on each side, extending in a semicircular sweep, the stupendous Egyptian obelisk, the two fountains, the portico, and the admirable façade of the church, form such an assemblage of magnificent objects, as can not fail to impress the mind with awe and admiration. The church appears in the background, and on each side is a row of quadruple arches, resting on two hundred and eighty-four pillars, and eighty-eight pilasters: these arches support one hundred and ninety-two statues, twelve feet in hight. The two noble fountains throw a mass of water to the hight of nine feet, from which it falls in a very picturesque manner, and adds greatly to the beauty of the scene. In the center is the fine obelisk.

At the first entrance into St. Peter’s, the effect is not so striking as might be expected: it enlarges itself, however, insensibly on all sides, and improves on the eye every moment. The proportions are so accurately observed, that each of the parts are seen to an equal advantage, without distinguishing itself above the rest. It appears neither extremely high, nor long, nor broad, because a just equality is preserved throughout. Although every object in this church is admirable, the most astonishing part of it is the cupola. On ascending to it, the spectator is surprised to find, that the dome which he sees in the church, is not the same with the one he had examined without doors, the latter being a kind of case to the other, and the stairs by which he ascends into the ball lying between the two. Had there been the outward dome only, it would not have been seen to advantage by those who are within the church; or had there been the inward one only, it would scarcely have been seen by those who are without; and had both been one solid dome of so great a thickness, the pillars would have been too weak to have supported it.