CHAPTER IV.

The next day Oswald and Corinne set forth with more confidence and calmness. They were friends, and began to say _we_. Ah, how affecting is that _we_, pronounced by love! What a timid, yet ardent confession does it breathe. "We go to the Capitol, then?" said Corinne.--"Yes, _we_ will!" replied Oswald, and his voice told all in those simple words; so full of gentle tenderness was his accent. "From the top of the Capitol, such as it is now," said Corinne, "we can clearly see the Seven Hills; we will go over them all in succession; there is not one but teems with historical recollections." They took what was formerly called the sacred or triumphant road.--"Your car passed this way," said Oswald. "It did," answered Corinne: such venerable dust might have wondered at my presumption; but since the Roman republic, so many a guilty track hath been imprinted on this road, that the respect it once demanded is decreased." She led him to the stairs of the present Capitol; the entrance to the original one was by the Forum. "I wish," she said, "that these steps were the same which Scipio ascended; when, repulsing calumny by glorious deeds, he went to offer thanks in the temple for the victories he had won; but the new staircase and Capitol were built on the ruins of the old, to receive the peaceful magistrate who now monopolizes the high sounding title of Roman senator, which once extorted reverence from the whole universe. We have but names here now. Yet their classic euphony always creates a thrill of mingled pleasure and regret. I asked a poor woman, whom I met the other day, where she lived. 'On the Tarpeian Rock,' she answered. These words, stripped as they are of all that once attached to them, still exert some power over the fancy." They stopped to observe the two basaltic lions at the foot of the stairs.[1] They came from Egypt, whose sculptors much more faithfully transmitted the forms of animals than that of man. The physiognomy of these lions has all the stern tranquillity, the strength in repose, which we find described by Dante.

"A Guisa di leon--quando si posa."

Not far from thence is a mutilated Roman statue, which the moderns have placed there, unconscious that they thus display a striking symbol of Rome as it is. This figure has neither head nor feet; but the trunk and drapery that remain have still the beauty of antiquity. At the top of the stairs are two colossal statues, thought to represent Castor and Pollux; then come the trophies of Marius; then the two columns which served to measure the Roman empire; lastly the statue of Marcus Aurelius, calm and beautiful amid contending memories. Thus the heroic age is personated by these colossal shapes, the republic by the lions, the civil wars by Marius, and the imperial day by Aurelius.

To the right and left of the modern Capitol two churches have been erected, on the ruins of temples to Jupiter Feretrius and Capitolinus. In front of the vestibule is a fountain, over which the geniuses of the Tiber and the Nile are represented as presiding, as does the she-wolf of Romulus. The name of the Tiber is never pronounced like that of an inglorious stream; it is a proud pleasure for a Roman but to say, "Come to the Tiber's banks! Let us cross the Tiber!" In breathing such words he seems to invoke the spirit of history, and reanimate the dead.

Going to the Capitol by the way of the Forum, you find, to your right, the Mamertine prisons, constructed by Ancus Martius for ordinary criminals; but excavated by Servius Tullius into far more cruel dungeons for state culprits; as if they merit not most mercy, who err from a zealous fidelity to what they believe their duty. Jugurtha, and the friends of Catiline, perished in these cells; it is even said that St. Peter and St. Paul were confined there. On the other side of the Capitol is the Tarpeian Rock, at the foot of which now stands the Hospital of Consolation, as if the severe spirit of antiquity, and the sweet one of Christianity, defying time, here met, as visibly to the eye as to the mind. When Oswald and Corinne had gained the top of the Capitol, she showed him the Seven Hills, and the city, bounded first by Mount Palatinus, then by the walls of Servius Tullius, which inclose the hills, and by those of Aurelian, which still surround the greatest part of Rome. Corinne repeated verses of Tibullus and Propertius, that glorify the weak commencement of what became the mistress of the world.[2] Mount Palatinus once contained all Rome; but soon did the imperial palace fill the space that had sufficed for a nation. A poet of Nero's day made this epigram:--

"Roma domus fiet. Veios migrate, Quirites; Si non et Veios occupat ista domus."

'Rome will soon be but one house. Go to Veios, citizens! if you can be sure that this house will not include even Veios itself.' The Seven Hills are far less lofty now than when they deserved the title of steep mountains; modern Rome being forty feet higher than its predecessor, and the valleys which separated them almost filled up by ruins; but what is still more strange, two heaps of shattered vases have formed new hills, Cestario and Testacio. Thus, in time, the very refuse of civilization levels the rock with the plain, effacing, in the moral as in the material world, all the pleasing inequalities of nature.

Three other hills, Janiculum, Vaticanus, and Mario, not comprised in the famous seven, give so picturesque an air to Rome; and afford such magnificent views from her interior, as perhaps no other city can command. There is so remarkable a mixture of ruins and new buildings, of fair fields and desert wastes, that one may contemplate Rome on all sides, and ever find fresh beauties.

Oswald could not weary of feasting his gaze from the elevated point to which Corinne had led him. The study of history can never act on us like the sight of that scene itself. The eye reigns all powerfully over the soul. He now believed in the old Romans, as if he had lived amongst them. Mental recollections are acquired by reading; those of imagination are born of more immediate impressions, such as give life to thought, and seem to render us the witnesses of what we learn. Doubtless we are annoyed by the modern dwellings which intrude on these wrecks, yet a portico beside some humble roof, columns between which the little windows of a church peep out, or a tomb that serves for the abode of a rustic family, so blends the grand with the simple, and affords us so many agreeable discoveries, as to keep up continual interest. Everything is common-place and prosaic in the generality of European towns; and Rome, more frequently than any other, presents the sad aspect of misery and degradation; but all at once some broken column, or half-effaced bas-relief, or a few stones, bound together by indestructible cement, will remind you that there is in man an eternal power, a divine spark, which he ought never to weary of fanning in his own breast, and reluming in those of others. The Forum, whose narrow inclosure has been the scene of so many wondrous events, is a striking proof of man's moral greatness. When in the latter days of Rome, the world was subjected to inglorious rulers, centuries passed from which history could scarce extract a single feat. This Forum, the heart of a circumscribed town, whose natives fought around it against the invaders of its territories--this Forum, by the recollections it retraces, has been the theme of genius in every age. Eternal honors to the brave and free, who thus vanquish even the hearts of posterity!

Corinne observed to Nevil that there were but few vestiges left of the republic, or of the regal day which preceded it. The aqueducts and subterranean canals are the only luxuries remaining, while of aught more useful we have but a few tombs and brick temples. Not till after the fall of Sicily did the Romans adopt the use of marble; but it is enough to survey the spots on which great actions have been performed; we experience that indefinite emotion to which we may attribute the pious zeal of pilgrims. Celebrated countries of all kinds, even when despoiled of their great men and great works, exert a power over the imagination. That which would once have attracted the eye exists no more; but the charm of memory still survives.

The Forum now retains no trace of that famed tribunal whence the people were ruled by the force of eloquence. There still exist three pillars of a temple to Jupiter Tonans, raised by Augustus, because a thunderbolt had fallen near him there, without injury. There is, too, the triumphal arch erected by the Senate to requite the exploits of Septimus Severus. The names of his two sons, Caracalla and Geta, were inscribed on its front; but as Caracalla assassinated his brother, his name was erased; some marks of the letters are yet visible. Farther off is a temple to Faustina, a monument of the weakness of Marcus Aurelius. A temple to Venus, which, in the republican era, was consecrated to Pallas, and, at a little distance, the relics of another, dedicated to the sun and moon, by the emperor Adrian, who was so jealous of the Greek architect Apollodorus, that he put him to death for censuring its proportion. On the other side are seen the remains of buildings devoted to higher and purer aims. The columns of one believed to be that of Jupiter Stator, forbidding the Romans ever to fly before their enemies--the last pillar of the temple to Jupiter Custos, placed, it is said, near the gulf into which Curtius threw himself--and some belonging either to the Temple of Concord or to that of Victory. Perhaps this resistless people confounded the two ideas, believing that they could only attain true peace by subduing the universe. At the extremity of Mount Palatinus stands an arch celebrating Titus's conquest at Jerusalem. It is asserted that no Jews will ever pass beneath it; and the little path they take to avoid it is pointed out. We will hope, for the credit of the Jews, that this anecdote is true; such enduring recollections well become the long-suffering. Not far from hence is the arch of Constantine, embellished by some bas-reliefs, taken from the Forum, in the time of Trajan, by the Christians, who resolved thus to deck the monument of the Founder of Peace. The arts, at this period, were already on the wane, and thefts from the past deified new achievements.

The triumphal gates still seen in Rome perpetuated, as much as man could do, the respect paid to glory. There were places for musicians at their summits; so that the hero, as he passed, might be intoxicated at once by melody and praise, tasting, at the same moment, all that can exalt the spirit.

In front of these arches are the ruins of the Temple to Peace built by Vespasian. It was so adorned by bronze and gold within, that when it was consumed by fire, streams of fused metal ran even to the Forum. Finally, the Coliseum, loveliest ruin of Rome! terminates the circle in which all the epochs of history seem collected for comparison. Those stones, now bereft, of marble and of gilding, once formed the arena in which the gladiators contended with ferocious beasts. Thus were the Romans amused and duped, by strong excitements, while their natural feelings were denied due power. There were two entrances to the Coliseum; the one devoted to the conquerors, the other that through which they carried the dead. "_Sana vivaria, sandapilaria_." Strange scorn of humanity! to decide beforehand the life or death of man, for mere pastime. Titus, the best of emperors, dedicated the Coliseum to the Roman people; and its very ruins bear so admirable a stamp of genius, that one is tempted to deceive one's self on the nature of true greatness, and grant to the triumphs of art the praise which is due but to spectacles that tell of generous institutions. Oswald's enthusiasm equalled not that of Corinne, while beholding these four galleries, rising one above the other, in proud decay, inspiring at once respect and tenderness: he saw but the luxury of rulers, the blood of slaves, and was almost prejudiced against the arts, for thus lavishing their gifts, indifferent as to the purposes to which they were applied. Corinne attempted to combat this mood. "Do not," she said, "let your principles of justice interfere with a contemplation like this. I have told you that these objects would rather remind you of Italian taste and elegance than of Roman virtue; but do you not trace some moral grandeur in the gigantic splendor that succeeded it? The very degradation of the Roman is imposing; while mourning for liberty they strewed the earth with wonders; and ideal beauty sought to solace man for the real dignity he had lost. Look on these immense baths, open to all who wished to taste of oriental voluptuousness; these circles wherein elephants once battled with tigers; these aqueducts, which could instantaneously convert the areas into lakes, where galleys raced in their turn, or crocodiles filled the space just occupied by lions. Such was the luxury of the Romans, when luxury was their pride. These obelisks, brought from Egypt, torn from the African's shade to decorate the sepulchres of Romans! Can all this be considered useless, as the pomp of Asiatic despots? No, you behold the genius of Rome, the victor of the world, attired by the arts! There is something superhuman and poetical in this magnificence, which makes one forget both its origin and its aim."

The eloquence of Corinne excited without convincing Oswald. He sought a moral sentiment in all things, and the magic of art could never satisfy him without it. Corinne now recollected that, in this same arena, the persecuted Christians had fallen victims to their constancy; she pointed out the altars erected to their ashes, and the path towards the cross which the penitents trod beneath the ruins of mundane greatness; she asked him if the dust of martyrs said nothing to his heart. "Yes," he cried, "deeply do I revere the power of soul and will over distress and death: a sacrifice, be it what it may, is more arduous, more commendable than all the efforts of genius. Exalted imagination may work miracles; but it is only when we immolate self to principle that we are truly virtuous. Then alone does a celestial power subdue the mortal in our breasts." These pure and noble words disturbed Corinne: she gazed on Nevil, then cast down her eyes; and though at the same time he took her hand, and pressed it to his heart, she trembled to think that such a man might devote himself or others to despair, in his adherence to the opinions or duties of which he might make choice.

[1] Mineralogists affirm that these lions are not basaltic, because the volcanic stone now so called was never found in Egypt; but as Pliny and Winckleman (the historian of the arts) both give them that name, I avail myself of its primitive acceptation.

[2]

Carpite nunc, tauri, de septem collibus herbas Dum licet, hic magnæ jam locus urbis erit. TIBULLUS.

Hoc quodcumque vides, hospes quàm maxima Roma est Ante Phrygem Ænean collis et herba fuit, &c. PROPERTIUS.