Part 20

“We passed,” says the author of ‘Rome in the Nineteenth Century,’ describing a visit to the baths, “the mouths of nine long corridors, converging together like the radii of the segment of a circle, divided from each other by dead walls, covered at the top, and closed at the end. They must always have been dark. Having passed these corridors, we entered the portal of what is called the house of Mæcenas. It is known that the house and gardens of Mæcenas stood in this part of the Esquiline-hill, which, before it was given him by Augustus, was the charnel-ground of the common people. The conflagration in Nero’s reign did not reach to them; and it is believed, that a part of them was taken by Nero into his buildings, and by Titus into his baths. Antiquaries think they can trace a difference in the brick-work and style of building, between what they consider as the erection of Augustus’s and that of Titus’s age: and on these grounds, the parts they point out as vestiges of the house of Mæcenas, are the entrance, which leads into a range of square and roofless chambers (called, on supposition, the public baths), and the wall on the right in passing through them, which is partially formed of reticulated building in patches. From these real or imaginary classic remains, we entered a damp and dark corridor, the ceiling of which is still adorned with some of the most beautiful specimens, that now remain, of the paintings of antiquity. Their colouring is fast fading away, and their very outline, I should fear, must be obliterated at no very distant period; so extreme is the humidity of the place, and so incessantly does the water-drop fall. By the light of a few trembling tapers elevated on the top of a long bending cane, we saw, at least twenty feet above our heads, paintings in arabesque, executed with a grace, a freedom, a correctness of design, and a masterly command of pencil, that awakened our highest admiration, in spite of all the disadvantages under which they were viewed. * * * Leaving the painted corridor, which is adorned with these beautiful specimens of ancient art, we entered halls, which, like it, must always have been dark, but are still magnificent. The bright colouring of the crimson stucco, the alcove still adorned with gilding, and the ceilings beautifully painted with fantastic designs, still remain in many parts of them; but how chill, how damp, how desolate are now these gloomy halls of imperial luxury! No sound is to be heard through them, but that of the slow water-drop. In one of these splendid dungeons, we saw the remains of a bath, supposed to have been for the private use of the emperor. In another we were shown the crimson-painted alcove, where the Laocöon was found in the reign of Leo the Tenth. The French, who cleared out a great many of these chambers, found nothing but the Pluto and Cerberus, now in the Capitol, a work of very indifferent sculpture.”

Another critic (Knight) has estimated these paintings rather differently. “The paintings on the walls,” says he, “consist chiefly of what we now call arabesques; the figures are all very small, and arranged in patterns and borders. They consist of birds and beasts; among which some green parrots may be seen very distinctly; the ground is generally a rich dark red. At the end of one of these rooms is a large painting of some building, in which the perspective is said to be correctly given. This seems to disprove the charge which has been brought against the ancient painters, of not understanding the rules of perspective; none of these paintings can, however, be justly regarded as specimens of ancient art; they were intended solely as decorations to the apartments, and were doubtless the work of ordinary house-painters. To judge of the proficiency of the ancient painters from such remains as these would be as unfair, to use Dr. Burton’s remark, as to estimate the state of the arts in England from the sign-posts. Where the walls of the rooms are bare, the brick-work has a most singular appearance of freshness; the stucco also is very perfect in many parts; but the marble, of which there are evident traces on the walls of the floors, is gone.”

The ruins of the baths of Caracalla are so extensive, that they occupy a surface equal to one-sixteenth of a square mile. Next to the Coliseum, they present the greatest mass of ancient building in Rome. “At each end,” says Mr. Eustace, “were two temples; one dedicated to Apollo, and the other to Æsculapius, as the tutelary deities of the place, sacred to the improvement of the mind, and the care of the body: the two other temples were dedicated to the two protecting divinities of the Antonine family; Hercules and Bacchus. In the principal building were, in the first place, a grand circular vestibule, with four baths on each side, for cold, tepid, warm, and sea baths; in the centre was an immense square for exercise, when the weather was unfavourable for it in the open air: beyond it is a marble hall, where sixteen hundred marble seats were placed for the convenience of the bathers; at each end of this hall were libraries. This building terminated on both sides with a court, surrounded with porticoes, with an odeum for music, and in the middle a spacious basin for swimming. Round this edifice were walks shaded by rows of trees, particularly the plane; and in its front extended a gymnasium, for running, wrestling, &c., in fine weather. The whole was surrounded by a vast portico, opening into spacious halls, where the poets declaimed, and philosophers gave lectures to their auditors.”

The following account is from the author of Rome in the Nineteenth Century. “We passed through a long succession of immense halls, open to the sky, whose pavements of costly marbles, and rich mosaics, long since torn away, have been supplied by the soft green turf, that forms a carpet more in unison with their deserted state. The wind sighing through the branches of the aged trees, that have taken root in them, without rivalling their loftiness, was the only sound we heard; and the bird of prey, which burst through the thick ivy of the broken wall far above us, was the only living object we beheld. These immense halls formed part of the internal division of the Thermæ, which was entirely devoted to purposes of amusement. The first of the halls, or walled enclosures, that you enter, and several of the others, have been open in the centre. These were surrounded by covered porticos, supported by immense columns of granite, which have long since been carried away; chiefly by the popes, and princes of the Farnese family. In consequence of their loss the roofs fell with a concussion so tremendous, that it is said to have been felt even in Rome, like the distant shock of an earthquake. Fragments of this vaulted roof are still lying at the corners of the porticoes. The open part, in the centre, was probably designed for athletic sports. Many have been the doubts and disputes among the antiquaries, which of these halls have the best claims to be considered as the once wonderful Cella Solearis. All are roofless now; but the most eastern of them, that which is farthest to the left on entering, and which evidently had windows, seems generally to enjoy the reputation. Besides these enormous halls, there are, on the western side of these ruins, the remains of a large circular building, and a great number of small divisions, of all sizes and forms, in their purpose wholly incomprehensible; except that they belonged to that part of the Thermæ destined for purposes of amusement. Nothing can now be known; and though the immense extent of the baths may be traced, far from hence, by the wide-spreading ruins, it is equally difficult and unprofitable to explore them any further.”

In these baths were discovered (A. D. 1540), the celebrated Farnese Hercules; also the famous Flora (1540); and the Farnese Bull, in 1544. In those of Titus, the Belvidere Meleager; and the wonderful group, entitled the Laocöon; and not far from them the exquisite figure of Antinous.

Columns, or pillars,[162] were none of the meanest beauties of the city. They were at least converted to the same design as the arches; for the honourable memorial of some noble victory or exploit; after they had been a long time in use for the chief ornament of the sepulchres of great men.

There are three columns more celebrated than the rest. These are, the pillars of Trajan, of Antoninus, and of Phocas. The first of these was set up in the middle of Trajan’s Forum; being composed of twenty-four great stones of marble;[163] but so curiously cemented, as to seem one entire natural stone. The height was one hundred and forty-four feet, according to Eutropius; though Marlian seems to make them but one hundred and twenty-eight: yet they are easily reconciled, if we suppose one of them to have begun the measure from the pillar itself, and the other from the basis. It is ascertained on the inside by one hundred and eighty-five winding stairs, and has forty little windows for the admission of light. The noblest ornament of this pillar was the statue of Trajan at the top, of a gigantic height; being no less than twenty-five feet high. He was represented in a coat of armour, proper to the general, holding in his left hand a sceptre; in his right a hollow globe of gold, in which his ashes were deposited after his death.

The subjects of the bas-reliefs, as we have already stated, are the victories of Trajan, in his Dacian campaign[164]. The whole number of figures sculptured is about 2,500; and the figure of Trajan himself is repeated more than fifty times. At the lower part of the column, the human figures are about two feet high; as they ascend, and thus become further removed from the eye, their size is increased, till, at the top of the column, they have nearly double the height that they have below. These bas-reliefs are executed with great delicacy and spirit; but they possess a higher value of a different kind. “The Roman dress and manners,” says Dr. Burton, “may receive a considerable light from them. We find the soldiers constantly carrying their swords on the right side. On a march they are generally bare-headed; some have no helmets at all; others wear them suspended to their right shoulder; each of them carries a stick over the left shoulder, which seems to have been for the purpose of carrying their provisions. We may observe also a wallet, a vessel for wine, and a machine for dressing meat.”

Their shields[165] were oblong, with different devices upon them; their standards of various kinds; pictures also were used; which were portraits of gods, or heroes. The soldiers wear upon their legs a kind of light pantaloons, reaching a little below the knee, and not buttoned. The Dacians have loose pantaloons, reaching to the ankle, and shoes; they also carry curved swords. The Sarmatian cavalry, allies of Decabalus (the Dacian king) wear plated armour, covering the men and horses. Their armour was a covering of thin circular plates, which were adapted to the movements of the body, and drawn over all their limbs; so that in whatever direction they wished to move, their clothing allowed them free play, by the close fitting of its joints. Some Roman soldiers have also plate-armour; but they are archers. The horses have saddles, or rather cloths, which are fastened by cords round the breast, and under the tail. The Dacian horses are without this covering; and the Germans, or some other allies, have neither saddles nor bridles to their horses. We might observe several other particulars, such as a bridge of boats over a river, and that the boats everywhere are without a rudder, but are guided by an oar, fastened with a thong on one side of the stern. The wall of the camp has battlements, and the heads of the Dacians are stuck to it. The Dacian women are represented burning the Roman prisoners. We may also see the testudo, formed by soldiers putting their shields together in a compact mass over their backs. Victory is represented as writing with a pen on a shield[166].

The column of Antoninus was raised in imitation of this, which it exceeded in one respect; that it was one hundred and seventy-six feet high. The work was much inferior to that of Trajan’s, as being undertaken in the declining age of the empire. The ascent on the inside was by one hundred and six stairs, and the windows in the sides fifty-six. The sculpture and the other monuments were of the same nature as those of the first; and on the top stood a colossus of the emperor, naked, as appears from some of his coins. Both these columns are still standing; the former most entire. But Pope Sixtus V., instead of the statues of the emperors, set up St. Peter’s, on the column of Trajan, and St. Paul’s, on that of Antoninus.

The historical columns[167] are true to no order of architecture. Trajan’s has a Tuscan base and capital, and a pedestal with Corinthian mouldings. That of M. Aurelius repeats the same mixture; but its pedestal is restored: and though higher, both in proportion and in place, than Trajan’s, does not associate so well with its shaft. These are the only regular pedestals that are observed in Roman antiquity.

Next to these may be classed the column of Phocas[168]. So recently as twenty-four years ago, the whole of its base, and part of the shaft, were buried in the soil; and up to that time, the ingenuity of the learned was severely tried, in the attempt to find for it a name. One thought it a fragment of the Græcostasis; another adjudged it to a temple of Jupiter Custos; and a third urged the claim of Caligula’s bridge. At length, it was thought that, possibly, the column might originally have been isolated, and thus in itself a complete monument; that, consequently, if the earth at its foot were removed, a pedestal might be uncovered with some inscriptions thereon. The Duchess of Devonshire had recourse to this simple expedient, in the year 1813; the base of the column was laid open, and upon it an inscription was found, recording the fact, that a gilt statue was placed on the top of it in the year 608, in honour of the emperor Phocas, by Smaragdus, exarch of Italy.

The material of the column is Greek marble, the capital is Corinthian, and the shaft is fluted. The height is forty-six feet, but as it stands upon a pyramid of eleven steps, its elevation is increased about eleven feet.

The seventh Basilica stands about two miles from the walls; the church itself is a fine building, restored in 1611; but the portico, of antique marble columns, is of the time of Constantine. Under the church are the openings to very extensive catacombs, originally formed no doubt by the ancient Romans, to procure pozzolana for their buildings; and enlarged by the early Christians, who used them as places of refuge during their persecutions, and as _cemeteries_, one hundred and seventy thousand of them having, it is said, been interred there. The passages are from two to three feet in width, and extend several miles in different directions.

A hall of immense size[169] was discovered about the beginning of the last century, concealed under the ruins of its own massive roof. The pillars of _verde antico_ that supported its vaults, the statues that ornamented its niches, and the rich marbles that formed its pavements, were found buried in rubbish, and were immediately carried away by the Farnesian family, the proprietors of the soil, to adorn their palaces and furnish their galleries. This hall is now cleared of its encumbrances, and presents to the eye a vast length of naked wall, and an area covered with weeds. “As we stood contemplating its extent and proportion,” continues Mr. Eustace, “a fox started from an aperture, once a window, at one end, and crossing the open space, scrambled up the ruins at the other, and disappeared in the rubbish. This scene of desolation reminded me of Ossian’s beautiful description:—‘The thistle shook there its lonely head; the moss whistled to the gale; the fox looked out from the windows; the rank grass waved round his head.’”

There are twelve obelisks at Rome still standing erect, the oldest of which is that brought by Augustus, which is eighty feet in height, decorating the fine square called Piazza del Popolo.

Roman conquerors had successively enriched the capital of the world with the monuments of subdued nations, and with the spirit of art from Sicily, Greece, and Egypt. Among these, the emperor Augustus ordered two Egyptian obelisks to be carried to Rome. To this end, an immense vessel of a peculiar structure was built, and when, after a tedious and difficult voyage, it reached the Tiber with its freight, one of the columns was placed in the Grand Circus, and the other in the Campus Martius. Caligula adorned Rome with a third Egyptian obelisk, obtained in the like manner.

A fourth was added afterwards. The emperor Constantine, equally ambitious of these costly foreign ornaments, resolved to decorate his newly-founded capital of Constantinople with the largest of all the obelisks that stood on the ruins of Thebes. He succeeded in having it conveyed as far as Alexandria, but, dying at the time, its destination was changed, and an enormous raft, managed by three hundred rowers, transported the granite obelisk from Alexandria to Rome.

The Circi were places set apart for the celebration of several sorts of games. They were generally oblong, or almost in the shape of a bow, having a wall quite round, with ranges of seats for the convenience of the spectators. At the entrance of the circus stood the Carceres, or lists, whence they started, and just by them one of the Metæ, or marks, the other standing at the further end to conclude the race. “There were several of these Circi at Rome, as those of Flaminius, Nero, Caracalla, and Severus; but the most remarkable, as the very name imports, was Circus Maximus, first built by Tarquinius Priscus. The length of it was four furlongs, the breadth the like number of acres, with a trench of ten feet deep, and as many broad, to receive the water; and seats enough for one hundred and fifty thousand men. It was beautified and adorned by succeeding princes, particularly by Julius Cæsar, Augustus, Caligula, Domitian, Trajan, and Heliogabalus; and enlarged to such a prodigious extent as to be able to contain, in their proper seats, two hundred and sixty thousand spectators. In the time of Constantine it would hold three hundred and eighty-five thousand persons to view the combats, chariot races, &c.[170]” The Circus Maximus stands on the spot where the games were celebrated when the Romans seized the Sabine women; and it was here also that the interesting scene took place between Androcles and the lion.

The number of beasts exhibited in the circus is wonderful; and were it not well attested, would be incredible. In the days of imperial splendour, nearly every rare animal that Western Asia or Northern Africa could produce, was commonly exhibited to the Roman people. In the year 252 B. C. one hundred and forty-two elephants, brought from Sicily, were exhibited in the circus. Cæsar, in his third dictatorship, showed a vast number of wild beasts, among which were four hundred lions, and a camelopard. The emperor Gordian devised a novel kind of spectacle; he converted the Circus into a temporary kind of wood, and turned into it two hundred stags, thirty wild horses, one hundred wild sheep, ten elks, one hundred Cyprian bulls, three hundred ostriches, thirty wild asses, one hundred and fifty wild boars, two hundred ibices, and two hundred deer. He then allowed the people to enter the wood, and to take what they pleased. Forty years afterwards the emperor Probus[171] imitated his example. “Large trees were pulled up by the roots,” says an ancient writer, “and fastened to beams, which were laid down crossing each other. Soil was then thrown upon them, and the whole Circus planted like a wood. One thousand ostriches, one thousand stags, one thousand ibices, wild sheep, and other grazing animals, as many as could be fed or found, were turned in, and the people admitted as before.”

Of the trouble which was taken in the republican times to procure rare animals for exhibition in Rome, we have a curious illustration in the letters of Cicero. The orator went out in the year 52 B. C., as governor of a province of Asia Minor; and while there, he was thus addressed by his friend Cœlius:—“I have spoken to you, in almost all my letters, about the panthers. It will be disgraceful to you, that Patiscus has sent ten panthers to Curio, while you have scarcely sent a greater number to me. Curio has made me a present of these, and ten others from Africa. If you will only keep it in mind, and employ the people of Cybira, and also send letters into Pamphylia (for I understand that the greatest number are taken there), you will gain your object.” To this the proconsul replies:—“I have given particular orders about the panthers to those who are in the habit of hunting them; but they are surprisingly scarce; and it is said, that those which are there, make a great complaint that there are no snares laid against any one in my province but themselves. It is accordingly supposed, that they are determined to quit my province. I go into Caria. However, I shall use all diligence.”

The avidity[172] with which the amusements of the Circus were sought, increased with the decline of the empire and the corruption of morals. Ammianus Marcellinus, who wrote in the fourth century of the Christian era, gives us the following description:—“The people spend all their evenings in drinking and gaming, in spectacles, amusements, and shows. The Circus Maximus is their temple, their dwelling-house, their public meeting, and all their hopes. In the Forum, the streets, and squares, multitudes assemble together, and dispute, some defending one thing, and some another. The oldest take the privilege of age, and cry out in the temples and Forum, that the republic must fall, if in the approaching games the person whom they support does not win the prize and first pass the goal. When the wished-for day of the equestrian games arrives, before sunrise all run headlong to the spot, passing in swiftness the chariots that are to run; upon the success of which their wishes are so divided, that many pass the night without sleep.” Lactantius confirms this account, and says that the people, from their great eagerness, often quarrelled and fought.

Fortunately there still exists, about two miles from the walls of Rome, an ancient circus in a high state of preservation; and from this we are enabled to acquire a very good notion of the form and arrangement of such structures. The chief entrance was an opening at the straight end; and on each side of it were six carceres, or starting-places. At the rounded end, or that opposite to the carceres, was the Porta Triumphalis, or Triumphal Gate, by which the victor left the circus; the rest of the enclosed space were the seats for the spectators, raised in rows one above the other. Down the middle of the area, or more properly speaking, rather nearer to one side than the other, ran a raised division,—a sort of thick dwarf wall, called the Spina; equal in length to about two-thirds of the area itself. At each end of this spina was a small meta, or goal, formed of three cones. The meta which approached the triumphal gate was much nearer to it than the other meta was to the carceres. The course which the chariots ran was by the side of the spina, and round the metæ. All these different parts of the circus were variously ornamented; the spina especially was highly decorated, having sometimes in the middle one of those lofty Egyptian obelisks, of which there are more to be seen at this day in Rome, than are assembled anywhere else[173].