My first excursion to Tivoli was in the beginning of March; I have lately paid it a second visit, in part of a more extended ramble; and I shall give you the account of both excursions together. We leave Rome by the Porta San Lorenzo, but I say nothing concerning the antiquities in the immediate neighbourhood, as I have written enough about them to tire out your patience. After we had passed the Ponte Mammolo, the soil continues for some miles to consist of a decomposed tufo, rather sandy, but one would think not unfitted for vegetation, yet there is little corn, and the land is mostly sheepwalk, which in a country and climate too dry for perennial grasses to flourish, cannot be very productive. The near scenes are dreary enough, and a heavy atmosphere shut out the distant objects. A little way on the left of the road, about ten miles from Rome, is an old castle of the Borghese family, which nobody visits, for antiquities of the middle ages have no interest here. There are many fragments scattered about over this, and every other part of the Campagna, but it would require a book to describe them all; and no small ingenuity, to determine the nature of the edifices of which they have formed part.^[8] About twelve miles from Rome is a little pool among bushes on the left, called Lago de’ Tartari. It is a mere pond of muddy yellowish water, with little or no peculiar taste, and neither receiving nor emitting any stream. The water deposits a copious crust of limestone upon all substances in it. It varies very much in height at different seasons, and the whole soil around is formed of its deposits: wherever the ground is broken we perceive bundles of pipes, and here and there a bit of reed remaining in the pipe, and proving the mode of its formation: above these pipes is generally a confused mass, deposited apparently on decaying fragments of vegetables. This sort of soil extends for a considerable distance, and as you may suppose, is incapable of cultivation; yet a few bushes grow on it, and abundance of the Senecio leucanthemifolius, and of some other plants not very common. On leaving this soil we pass on to another deposit of a substance less hard, and said to contain sulphur, or sulphuric acid, but nearly equally barren, and of much greater extent; about the middle, a stream of sulphureous water crosses the road, slightly warm, pretty clear, of a blue colour, and exhaling an odour which is perceived at a considerable distance. The taste is sulphureous, and I should say saltish, but Mr. P. D. called it acid. We left the carriage and walked up the stream; and at a little distance from the road, were surprised to see several branches separating themselves from the principal stream, and losing themselves in hollows of the ground. All these streams, which deposit considerable quantities of stony matter, form about them, not a continuous solid mass, but one full of caverns and hollows, extending in all directions. Sometimes they are employed in spreading still farther the barren crusts of their peculiar deposit, and sometimes probably in filling up the old channels, after which of course the stream has to find a new one, but as it is rather disposed from the form of the ground to spread over the surface, than to find its way in a single channel, an artificial one has been made for it down to the Anio. These swallows are repeated in different places, so that the stream becomes larger as we ascend, and perhaps where it issues from the little Lago di Solfatara, may be not much inferior in quantity to the New River, but running much faster in a smaller bed. In March I was inclined to call it hot, but I suppose the temperature does not equal 80° of Fahrenheit. Reeds grow abundantly on the banks, and one or two species of conferva, especially an Oscillatoria, resembling C. fontinalis of Dillwyn, which is what the books and the guides call bitumen. The lake is a mere pond, but is said to be very deep; the water at the edges is not so hot as where the stream issues from it. Detached bubbles are continually rising in all parts, and when a stone, or even a clod of earth is thrown in, a violent ebullition is produced, which lasts several minutes. Almost close to the lake, there is a ruined building, believed to be the remains of an ancient bath. There are two other lakes, still smaller, but all very deep; the size of all of them is continually diminishing, from the progress of vegetation; and the matted roots of reeds sometimes form floating islands, and extend over the surface of the water. Here, according to the antiquaries, Virgil places the scene where Latinus consulted the oracle of Faunus; but even if we can suppose the plain to have once abounded with wood, a fact which the nature of the soil renders highly improbable, how can we place them sub altâ albuneâ, when the country is nearly flat, or how can a spring rising in a deep pool be said to resound? But I leave these difficulties to wiser heads, and will continue my route towards Tivoli. At sixteen miles from Rome is the Ponte Lucano, another ancient bridge over the Teverone, but with some modern patching. Close by this is a fine circular monument, with several inscriptions belonging to the Plautian family, which is said to have been originally from Tivoli, but was much distinguished at Rome in the latter part of the republic, and the early part of the empire. It is a very fine object, and its strength and solidity have tempted some of the noble robbers of the lower ages, to convert it into a fortress, of which there are considerable remains at the top, but I could not get into it.

After passing the bridge, at a little distance from the road, there are two monuments, called the Sepolcri de’ Sereni, each of which has consisted of a basement of squared blocks of travertine, with an arched recess in front and behind, and a small doorway in the arch, opening into a little chamber. The upper part consisted of a pedestal adorned with a bas-relief; one of them has been removed or destroyed, but the other still exists, though damaged more by violence than by time. These monuments are supposed by some persons (Nibby says, bizzarramente) to have adorned the entrance to Hadrian’s villa; and their perfect correspondence of form and position, with the direction of their sides towards the villa, incline me to subscribe to this opinion. The prince Borghese has imitated them in the entrance to his villa, by the Porta del Popolo, at Rome.

Beyond these, on a hill nearly detached, amidst tall cypresses, magnificent stone pines, and other products of a luxurious vegetation, appear the ruins of the Villa Adriana. The extent is immense. We walked for above a mile among arches, great semi-domed recesses, long walls and corridors, and spacious courts; through an immense number of small apartments, and some large halls. In many places the painted stucco remains, with the ornaments upon it in relief. The rich marbles and porphyries which encrusted the walls, the marble columns and cornices, and the numerous statues which once adorned the spacious porticos, are all gone; much has been taken to Rome, much has been burnt to lime; and a great deal has been carelessly or wantonly destroyed. The varied forms of the remaining masses, the pines, the cypresses, the olives, the ilices, and the deciduous trees, with the different shrubs growing on the ruins themselves, and by which they are more or less shaded, and whose colouring contrasts admirably with the warm brown of the buildings, together with the advantages of the natural situation, form a succession of the most beautiful and picturesque scenery. All the magnificence of this spot does not however seem to have been merely for one individual. Besides the imperial apartments, and the habitations of the officers and guards, there were apartments provided for men of science, and everything necessary for study and instruction, as well as for amusement. Here were three theatres, besides a circular building, which is called, on account of some figures of seamonsters found there, a maritime theatre. Nibby pronounces it a bath for swimming; to me it seems a little amphitheatre, and I saw no indication that it had ever contained water. There were also a stadium, baths, public libraries, and places of exercise, an academy, and I will not pretend to tell you how many temples; at least, you are shewn ruins which go by these names, and there is no deficiency of room, or of fragments of masonry, to be assigned to each. You must add to these a canopus, which as nobody knows what it was, I hope you will imagine to be something of the utmost magnificence. From what still exists, it seems to have been a temple, partly subterraneous, at the end of a valley in some degree artificial, and with constructions on each side of it, and spacious and highly ornamented subterraneous chambers. You will imagine apartments for the emperor, his attendants, and his guards; but there is another thing which you will not imagine, which is a subterraneous gallery, said to be for exercise on horseback, but which are perhaps the inferi mentioned by Spartian; they form a square, of which the circuit exceeds half a mile.

Beyond all these, are various foundations, and the remains of aqueducts, and further still some other considerable remains, which perhaps did not belong to this villa. Including these, the whole extent is about two miles in a straight line. All the existing buildings are of rubble, with brick or reticulated facings; and this is I believe, the last instance of any considerable quantity of reticulated work. The baths of Caracalla have it not. We may conclude from Vitruvius that the practice began in the age of Augustus, and that it must therefore have lasted one hundred and eighty years. Even the bricks here have been taken away for modern use, at the evident risk of occasioning the fall of the edifice to which they belonged. Much as has been discovered among these ruins, it does not appear that any settled plan was ever pursued in the excavations; and perhaps much may yet remain to be discovered in point of valuable objects, and certainly much to determine the disposition of the buildings, of which no good plan, even as to the remains above-ground, has ever been published. Thus much however is certain, that no one symmetrical design prevailed throughout the whole. The buildings were disposed either as the convenience of situation, or the shape of the ground suggested. It has been said, and is repeated by every writer on the subject, that Hadrian had here collected imitations of all the buildings which he had seen in different parts of his empire; but of all the fragments which remain, there is not one, of which the plan does not shew it to have been entirely Roman. There is not a single morsel, that could by any possibility have belonged to an ancient edifice of Greece or Egypt; not one to which parallel remains may not be found in the neighbourhood of Rome, where no suspicion was ever entertained of such an imitation. We may imagine the representation was not very exact, when we find a little flat valley between sandy slopes of 40 or 50 feet high, and watered by a brook of the smallest size, dignified by the name of the magnificent mountain pass, through which the Peneus pours its waters to the sea. It is possible that all these imitations were of solid stone or marble, and have tempted spoliation by the value of the material, but then we should expect to find at Rome vestiges of the architecture as well as of the sculpture of this villa.

From Hadrian’s villa we continued our way to Tivoli, a dirty disagreeable town in a noble situation. It is seated on a spur of land, which separates the valley of the Anio or Teverone, from the open Campagna; on one side is a descent of 30 or 40 feet to the upper part of the river; on the other, a slope of some hundreds to the part of it below the falls. This spur seems quite to divert the river from its general line of course, and forces it to bend round in a semicircular form. The upper part of it is formed from a deposition from the water itself, the lower appears to consist of volcanic substances.

There are two inns at Tivoli. In the yard of one of these is the Sybil’s temple, or rather the circular temple of Vesta, which has so long gone by that name; the Sybil’s temple is more probably a small edifice just by. On my first visit to Tivoli, which as I have said, was in the beginning of March, we hastily made the usual round, and returned to Rome, having been out two days and one night. The second visit has been made more at leisure. I went up in a sort of stage which goes every day to Tivoli; one of the party was a Tivolese woman, who had been purchasing trinkets and sweetmeats at Rome, for herself and her children. In her dress, she wore her stays outside, as is usual with her countrywomen, and instead of a cap had a handkerchief, or napkin, folded up into an oblong strip, pinned on the head, and hanging down the back. I suppose this was once the fashion in our island, since the term kerchief indicates a covering for the head. She anxiously called my attention to a picture of our Saviour, in one of the little chapels on the road, which had performed miracles. Whether the picture, or the Saviour performed the miracles, she did not seem clearly to comprehend. The ancient Italians had very confused ideas on the identity of their different deities, and while in general they acknowledged only one Jupiter optimus maximus, seemed still to have a separate Jupiter to every temple. Suetonius tells us a story of Augustus, to whom Jupiter Capitolinus appeared in a dream, complaining that he had deprived him of his accustomed votaries, by building a temple to Jupiter Tonans; yet the Jupiter of the Capitol was certainly the god reputed to hold the thunder. If the place of worship was indifferent to the deity, it was not so to the priests. A similar confusion exists in modern Italy, and perhaps may be traced to a similar source. There is only one Saviour, and one Virgin Mary, yet to address our prayers to the Saviour or Madonna of such a chapel, is not exactly the same thing as to adore those of another, and there are churches dedicated to our Lady of Loreto, as if this were not the Virgin Mary. Misson gives a curious account of a conversation he had with a monk on this subject.

To return to the Temple of Vesta, which is always the first object at Tivoli. I shall not attempt to describe the beauties of the ruin, because it has been so often done before, and because no description can do justice to the reality; but I will point out a few particulars in the construction, with which perhaps you are not so familiar. The cell is formed of opus incertum, which has been described by Vitruvius as a masonry of small pieces of irregular shape, fitted together, and united by mortar. Some writers have supposed that by this term he meant the Cyclopean walls, which are constructed of large pieces without mortar, (of these I shall tell you more hereafter) but his description is sufficiently precise to leave no doubt of his meaning. Of this opus incertum we have reason to think that it was in use in the time of Sylla, and probably much before; and the complaint of Vitruvius, that it was in his time giving way to the opus reticulatum, which though neater, was less strong; together with the want of existing remains which are known to be of later date; will justify us in concluding that it was discontinued in the reign of Augustus. There are some letters on the architrave, the remains of an inscription, but all that exists is L. Gellius, L. F. There was, I believe, a Lucius Gellius in the time of Sylla, but I cannot now recollect where I met with the name. Now the construction of the walls, and the forms of the capital very much resemble some fragments remaining at Palestrina, belonging to the temple of Fortune, which we know to have been restored and greatly enlarged by Sylla; and at Pompei there are capitals of a similar taste, but evidently much prior to the earthquake which preceded its final calamity; and putting all these circumstances together we may, with some probability, assign this building to the time of Sylla. These capitals are not ornamented with the leaves, either of the acanthus or the olive, but with some which rather resemble those of the Verbascum sinuatum; and neither they, nor any part of the building, offer the least trace of Greek taste, as distinguished from that of Rome. We do not find at Rome any examples of similar capitals, except an unappropriated fragment or two of peperino, which may have belonged to the same period. Within the cell is a recess, which seems to have been the work of later ages. It has a large doorway, and a window, both of which are considerably smaller upwards. The material of the opus incertum is a sort of tufo, but the dressings which surround the door and window, together with the external order, and the continued pedestal on which it stands, are of a coarse, calcareous, fresh-water deposit, much resembling travertine. This, in the columns at least, and perhaps everywhere else, was covered with a very thin coat of fine, hard stucco, and the opus reticulatum was probably covered with stucco also, but it must have had more substance, or it would not have concealed the little inequalities of the work below. The cornice has no modillions, and the dentil band is uncut; otherwise it would have been a regular Ionic entablature, as directed by Vitruvius. The columns have settled a little outwards, as is evident from the openings in the entablature. Here are sufficient vestiges of steps, to prove that they descended laterally, and were not brought straight out, as they are usually published, but there is not enough remaining to make out distinctly all the particulars. After the temple of Vesta, to which I paid not one, but many visits, I noticed the little square edifice just by, now the church of St. George. Little remains but the back of the temple, and a portion of one flank, with Ionic half-columns very much decayed; showing it to have been a tetrastyle, pseudo-peripteral temple, of the most ancient, and simplest form. It has no beauty in itself, and in some points of view is very much in the way of the other temple, which it almost touches. I should tell you that Lord Bristol bought the circular temple. The bargain was completed, and the owner was just preparing to pull it down and ship it for England, when an order from the government put a stop to the proceeding. This temple, or at least the columns and entablature, has been closely imitated at the N. W. corner of the bank of England, and a portion of its circular form is also adopted.

The next objects were the Waterfall and the Grotto of Neptune. Fontana built a wall to preserve a head of water for the forges, and the use of the city, and the water now tumbles over this, and the rocks upon which it is built, for the height of about sixty feet, and after dashing and foaming for some yards among broken masses, loses itself in a dark and deep recess. A winding path descends by the Ionic temple, presenting a succession of the most romantic views, to the grotto of Neptune. We are astonished to see scenery so wild in the midst of cultivation, and close to, nay almost within the circuit of a town of considerable size. Near the path we are shown the impression of a wheel, which having been buried in the rock deposited from the water, and since decayed, has left the exact mould of a considerable portion of the circumference, and of some of the spokes. All around you, from the top to the bottom of the deep chasm, rather than valley, to which you are descending; a depth I suppose, of not less than 250 feet, you see nothing but the rock thus formed by the river. The water, which had disappeared after its leap down the great cascade, rushes out of the grotto of Neptune in another fall, and when standing to look at it at the distance of 50 or 60 yards, the spray descends like a heavy shower, which a strong wind drives against the face. On the other side, another portion of the river falls from an opening in the rock in the upper part of the chasm, and our position between the two, produces a strange undefined confusion in the head, which it is impossible to describe. The streams unite below us, and after tumbling a little way among rocks, they are lost in another cavern, called the grotto of the Syren; but all these names are modern fancies, which merely serve to distinguish the different places. You may cross the stream over the last-mentioned grotto, and descending on the opposite side, enter into its mouth and look down the abyss. All these caverns are very much inclined in their direction, and the water falls, rather than flows through them. The inequality of the ground renders it necessary to make a long circuit in order to reach the lower part of the river; and in so doing you may observe, or fancy you observe, some remains of the ancient bridge, which stood nearly where is now the grotto of the Syren, deeply encrusted in this universal deposit. Looking upwards, you see the temple, the city, the rocks, the falls, combined in the most magical manner. It is a scene however, which it is difficult to characterize. It might be called sublime, if the objects of beauty were not so numerous; and if its sublimity and beauty were less impressive, you would pronounce it the most picturesque view that was ever beheld. Some parts of the rocks are covered with aloes; their tall flower-stalks rising above the olive groves; and some with the Indian fig; both of which give a singularity to the scene which renders it more attractive. The river after its second disappearance, bubbles up with great force at the foot of a high rock, in a most delightful sequestered spot. It is said to deposit about one inch and a half per annum of its solid tartar; if so it ought to be continually elevating its bed, yet there is a hole thirty or forty feet above its present level, through which it has evidently run, and still higher, another passage; indeed, as I said before, the whole rock to the very summit, is of the same nature, and its formation has forced the water through partial channels at different elevations, instead of always keeping the lowest part of the valley. This deposit only takes place where the water is disturbed, and above the town there is none of it.