N the preceding number of IN this Magazine we introduced to our readers a new work on Rome, forthcoming from the press of Carlton & Phillips, New-York, and presented from it, though in very condensed form, some illustrations of the private life and public splendor of the ancient city. We can now but partially redeem the promise we then gave of returning to this interesting volume for similar illustrations respecting the modern life and structures of Rome. These themes are exhaustless in their details, and equally so in their interest. We can only glance, however, at a few examples. Many of the objects described and engraved in our last number, belong not only to the ancient history of the city, but are conspicuous features in its modern topographyand the more commanding for their hoary antiquity. Passing by these, let us resume our walks and observations in the old world's metropolis; and if we should be found a little too garrulous or minute for the learned reader, who may be already | the eye can look through into the very sufficiently familiar with the scenes described, he must bear in mind that there are among our readers those who are less fortunate in this respect. On entering Rome at the Porta del Popolo, the eye beholds a beautiful open space, adorned with two white marble fountains, crowned with colossal statues, and surrounded by three stately churches and other elegant buildings. This space is usually thronged on a fine afternoon, not only with the carriages of cardinals, of the Italian nobility, and of the English and American gentry, but with large parties on foot, traversing the way to the Borghese Villa without the walls, or to the Pincian Hill, the great promenade of Rome, which is easily reached by a terraced road. As three of the principal streets of the city terminate in this space, heart of Rome. The middle one of these is called the Corso; it is the finest and the most fashionable. It is broad and handsomely paved, and runs for nearly a mile in a straight line from the Porta del Popolo to the foot of the Capitoline Hill, and is in the greatest part of its extent fifty feet wide. The Corso forms the line of demarcation between the ancient and the modern city. To the south and east of this district are the Palatine, the Aventine, the Esquiline, and the Cælian hills, all of which, though included in the modern walls, are little better than a desert. Their irregular surface is covered with vineyards, or the gardens of uninhabited villas, and a few scattered and solitary convents are the only signs of human habitations. The Corso divides the principal district of modern Rome into two parts: that on the north and east, which may be called the upper town, is built chiefly on the slopes of the Pincian and the Quirinal, and on part of the plateau which unites these hills toward the east with the Viminal and the Esquiline. This upper town contains the finest houses and the best streets; it is the healthiest quarter of the city, and the chief residence of the English visitors. The highest part of it is intersected by two long streets. Not more than a third part of the inclosed area is covered with buildings; the rest consisting of ruins, gardens, and fields, with some churches, convents, and other scattered habitations. The older part of the ancient city, where the principal ruins are found, is about half a mile south from the modern city. The former, under the emperors, was far more extensive than the latter, inasmuch as, besides the space within the walls, it had very considerable suburbs. The ground occupied by the city is mostly low, being only from thirty-five to forty-five feet above the level of the sea. The great square of palaces which now occupies the summit of the Capitoline opened in 1536 for the entrance of the emperor Charles V. At the foot of the central steps are two Egyptian lionesses, in basalt, brought here from the church of S. Stefano in Cacco, by Paul IV. On the summit of the steps are two colossal statues, in Pentelic marble, of Castor and Pollux, standing by the side of their horses. Near these, on the balustrade, are the celebrated marble statues called the Trophies of Marius; and close by are the statues of Constantine and his son, found in the baths on the Quirinal. On the right of the ascent is the celebrated mile-stone of Vespasian and Nerva, which marked the first mile of the Appian Way. The corresponding column on the left sustains an antique vase, said to be that which contained the ashes of Trajan. In the center of the piazza is the bronze equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, which is admitted to be the finest in the world. The southern summit of the Capitoline Hill possesses no remains of any ancient edifices, but it is tolerably well covered with the Caffarelli Palace, and other modern buildings. It is remarkable for its Tarpeian precipice, down which state criminals were hurled in former times. To use the words of Seneca :"A lofty and precipitous mass rises up, rugged with many rocks, which either bruise the body to death, or hurry it down still more violently. The points projecting from its sides, and the gloomy prospect of its vast height, are truly horrid. This place is chosen in particular, that the criminals may not require to be thrown down more than once." It has lost www much of its ancient majesty, and is now only about seventy feet in height. THE PIAZZA DEL CAMPIDOGLIO. Hill, under the name of the Piazza del Campidoglio, was built by Paul III. from the designs of Michael Angelo. It has an imposing effect when approached from the Corso, although it may not accord with our preconceived ideas of the Roman Capitol. The easy ascent by steps was The nearly-deserted site of the ancient city, formerly covered with so many monuments of grandeur, now presents to the eye little except massive walls, substructures, and other architectural fragments, -a scene of sublime desolation, scarcely relieved by the villas, gardens, and vineyards with which it is interspersed. "The public and private edifices," says Poggius, "which were founded for eternity, lie prostrate, naked, and broken, like the limbs of a mighty giant; and the ruin is still more visible, from the stupendous relics that have survived the injuries of time and fortune." From the numerous inundations of the Tiber, the consequent deposition of mud, and the ruins of fallen edifices, the general level of the ground in Rome has been so much elevated, that the lower parts of the ancient buildings have been buried, in some instances, to the depth of more than twenty feet. The French, when formerly masters of the city, and also some enterprising individuals, have removed the accumulation of earth and rubbish from several of the principal buildings, so that they are now entirely exposed to the view of the spectator when near; but from their being so much below the present surface, the distant effect remains as before. The elevation of the ground over the whole extent of the city, generally to the height of from fourteen to twenty feet, and the many little hills that have risen in various parts of the Campus Martius, especially on the sites of theaters and baths, and other extensive buildings, sufficiently indicate how great a mass of ruins must lie interred beneath. In this artificial soil, few excavations have been made without some interesting discovery; ness, and comfort, most of them are sadly deficient. The walls of the palaces are of Tiburtine stone, and the pillars and staircases are frequently of marble and other costly materials, but the scanty furniture is clumsy and old, the floor of the apartment is often of unvarnished brick, the curtains and tapestry are dingy, and a general want of cleanliness is frequently observable. The men-servants are often numerous in the hall; but they are dirty, lazy, and ill-paid. Passing through the long suites of vast and lofty apartments, FARNESE PALACE. and it has frequently happened that in sink- | the visitor sees here and there marble taing a well, or opening the foundations of a private house, the artisans have been stopped by the interposition of a pillar or an obelisk. An obelisk is said to have been three times discovered, and as often buried again in rubbish, before it was raised by Benedict. The pavement of the Forum is well known to exist about fourteen feet under the present level, and several of the thermæ, or baths, still remain unopened. The Portico of Trajan lies nearly twenty feet under the foundations of churches and convents. What a field then is here for future discoveries! Mines hitherto unexplored may yet yield abundantly their treasures of art. The palaces of the nobility are very numerous, of princely magnitude, and of imposing style. They contain vast courts, and long ranges of spacious apartments, of which the Romans can boast a greater number than the people of any other capital in the world; but as to splendor, neat bles, fine paintings, and heavy gilt chairs, but nothing resembling the French salon or boudoir, or the English drawing-room. The ground-floor is either let as shops, or used for coach-houses, stables, kitchens, or other menial offices; and the windows are guarded by a strong iron grating, with no glass behind, which gives to the lower part of a Roman palace the appearance of a prison. Several of these buildings are partly let to lodgers, and the owners occupy only one floor, or part of a floor; the building being too large for the occupation of a single family, except that of a baron, with his numerous dependents, in feudal times. The higher and wealthier Roman nobles, the Borghese, Colonna, Doria, Rospigliosi, and others, however, still retain somewhat of that feudal state, though their feudal jurisdiction is utterly lost. The villas of the Roman nobility, of which there are several within the city walls, are more pleasant than their pal aces. The splendid residences of the modern Romans form a chain of connection, serving as they do to unite the present race with their proud predecessors of classical times. The modern Roman palace differs greatly from the ancient Roman house described in our last number; but the villa reminds us of the country residence of the wealthy in the old ages. In both, the same taste for magnificence is discoverable. These villas have generally their fronts toward Rome, whose splendid horizon finely harmonizes with the pomp of their architecture, and the rich marble statues, pillars, vases, and fountains, with which they are decorated. The gardens, though regularly laid out, are not monotonous; nor are they made like English parks, for the effect of scenery within; but to supply quiet walks, from which there may be an enjoyment of the splendid scenery without. fruitlessly-for the statues, previously to being employed in lieu of weapons, were broken in pieces. The history of this edifice has been exceedingly eventful. It has been entirely stripped of its marbles, and to it many modern additions have been made. Urban VI. even attempted to demolish it; and, for a long time, it was the prison of Rome. On the excavation of its interior, some beautiful specimens of sculpture were discovered. It was once considered an extremely strong position, but improved military tactics have stripped it of this character. Every Easter Monday there is a splendid display of fire-works from the Castle of St. Angelo. The signal for their commencement is given by a cannon-shot, a little after ten at night, which is instantly followed by the simultaneous explosion of three thousand sky-rockets, expanding in their flight in the form of a sheaf of corn. "I had seen," says a traveler, "an explosion of fifteen thousand rockets at once in the gardens of Peterhoff; but they did not produce a twentieth part of the effect of this one-fifth of their number, thus skillfully managed, and shooting upward. A beautiful cross-fire of all sorts of fire-works ensues, and the scene terminates with another flight of three thousand rockets, similar to that with which it commenced." The huge mass of the castle seems, indeed, a volcano, pouring a ceaseless deluge of fire above, beneath, and all around, while the Tiber in front glows vividly, like a sheet of fire. We next direct our attention to the MOLE OF HADRIAN, known now-a-days, to mere newspaper readers, as the Castle of St. Angelo, by its connection with the modern history of the city. It was designed by the emperor Hadrian as a mausoleum, in imitation, it is thought, of that of Augustus, which stood at a short distance, on the opposite or left bank of the Tiber. It was built about A. D. 130, within the gardens of Domitia, the aunt of Nero, and is now connected with the Campus Martius by the Pons Elius. Like its prototype, the Mole of Hadrian was circular; it consisted of three stories, each considerably smaller in diameter than the one below it, and the whole resting on a square basement. It was built of Parian marble; the square stones of which the basement is formed being joined alternate-markable as indicating the site of the anly to each other, without the aid of any cement. It is supposed that the first and second stories were adorned with columns and statues around their circumference of superior workmanship, and probably from the chisel of Praxiteles or Lysippus. This building was used as a sepulcher by several succeeding emperors; and about five hundred years after its erection, it was converted into a fortress by Belisarius, during his memorable defense of Rome against Vitiges, king of the Goths. At this time, its statues and other ornaments were used as missiles, and hurled on the heads of the besiegers; for their recovery, the Tiber was afterward dragged, though The effect of a very large number of open spaces called Piazze, is truly pleasing, especially as the streets are so crooked and close. The Piazza Navona is re cient Circus Agonalis, of which it still retains the form. It is about seven hundred and fifty feet in length; and in the center stands an Egyptian obelisk, fiftyfour feet high, and resting on a rock which is forty feet in height. Close to this piazza is a small space, which derives its name from the well-known torso, called the statue of Pasquin, a mutilated fragment of an ancient marble statue, found here in the sixteenth century. Its modern name is ascribed to the tailor Pasquin, whose shop, just opposite, was the rendezvous of all the gossips and wits of the city. The term pasquinade perpetuates his fame. There was formerly another statue, called Marferio, which enjoyed a similar celebrity. It used to be selected as the answerer of the satirical sayings which emanated from Pasquino; and between the two, an entertaining dialogue was occasionally kept up, seldom, however, very complimentary to the parties concerned, among whom the pope did not escape. Marferio was silenced many years ago by one of the popes, who shut him up in the court-yard of the Capitoline Museum. The same pope is said to have wished to treat Pasquino in the same way; but the marquis to whom he belonged interposed, and his descendants are still obliged to pay a fine if any scandal be found affixed to the statue. So offended was Adrian VI. with the libels affixed to it, that he ordered the statue to be burned, and the ashes to be thrown into the Tiber; but his witty companion Suessano saved Pasquino by saying that the ashes would turn to frogs in the bottom of the river, and croak even louder than before. Pius VI., whose pontificate lasted from 1775 to 1800, was possessed with a remarkable passion for recording his own glory by the constant inscription, Munificentiâ Pii Sexti,-" By the munificence of Pius VI." A season of great scarcity existing in Rome, and the pagnotta, or little roll, always sold for about three cents, having shrunk to most lamentable smallness, one of them was found one morning in the hand of Pasquino, having a scroll fixed to it, with the words Munificentiâ Pii Sexti. This is a specimen of the world-known wit-the "Pasquinades"—of this noted statue. The churches in Rome, like the days of the year, are three hundred and sixty-five. Their internal arrangements have a striking uniformity of character, however different the edifices may be in point of building and decoration. Their aisles are generally formed by arcades; over these there are sometimes grated recesses, but never open galleries. The choir terminates in a curve, which is the grand field of decoration, and is loaded with ornaments in brass and marble. The high altar stands in the middle of the cross. In the transepts are usually the chapels of the Holy Sacrament and of the Virgin Mary. Those of the saints are ranged on the sides; and each being raised by a different family, has an architecture of its own, and at variance with the edifice. Seven of these churches, which are called basilicas, are supposed to possess a peculiar sanctity. Their name is derived from their being generally formed out of the basilica of ancient Rome, a kind of building which served as a court of law, and an exchange, or place of meeting for merchants and men of business. The seven basilicas are-St. Peter's, Santa Maria Maggiore, St. John Lateran, and Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, which are within the walls; and St. Paul's, St. Lorenzo, and St. Sebastian's, which are without them. In whatever direction the traveler enters Rome, his eye catches the sublime dome of St. Peter's towering upward into the blue firmament, inviting his approach from afar, and exciting the impatience which he must feel, on a first visit, to enter the far-famed city. It may be seen from the hills of Baccano, on the north; from the Lower Apennines, on the east; from the volcanic ridges of the Alban Mount, on the south; and from the masthead of a ship in the Tyrrhene Gulf, on the west. At all these points it rises up from the broad flat of the Campagna, to distinguished prominence; while the seven hills, and other elevations of the vicinity, are but as ridges or breaks, scarcely more perceptible than so many distant waves of the sea. Standing on the western side of the Tiber, the great bulk of the city being on the opposite side, it seems to reign in solitary majesty over all the dead and generally uncultivated level which surrounds the city, and is, perhaps, never so impressive an object as when thus beheld. On the evening of certain festivals an extraordinary spectacle is presented. Soon after sunset the whole exterior of St. Peter's is occupied by workmen, who are seen climbing in all directions, along the ribs of the dome, the lantern above it, the gilded globe, and even the cross by which it is surmounted. The pediment in front, the colossal statues, the very acanthus leaves of the Corinthian capitals, swarm with adventurous men carrying lights, who, by means of ropes, are slid and swung with great rapidity from one point to another of the edifice. They have been compared to the fire-flies of America, on a hot summer's evening The result is soon manifest: the whole surface of St. Peter's, and the colonnade before it, shine with the mild effulgence of fifty thousand paper lanterns; and at a |