The Italian sketch book :: :: University of Virginia Library

It was in the light of a clear atmosphere that we
stood upon the summit of the Capitol, and thoughtfully
gazed forth upon the city with its mountain-wall
circling broadly in the distance. From so
commanding a position, we were enabled to expand
the faint idea into a sensible conception of the site
of ancient Rome, and the relative localities and
original aspect of her scattered and dimly defined
remains.

Directly beneath us stood a massive form, whose
sculptured and inscribed surface is uniformly tinged

with the melancholy hue imparted by the earth
which so recently encrusted it, and deepened by the
lapse of ages. And yet, beneath that arch have
earth's most splendid pageants passed; eyes bedewed
with the rich tears of grateful exultation, have dwelt
upon its now defaced splendour; its broad foundations,
resting heavily in their sunken bed, have
trembled beneath the proud tread of the triumphing,
and its concave rung with the inspiring shout of a
Roman greeting. It was the triumphal arch of
Septimius Severus.

Immediately beside it, in mournful companionship,
rise three mutilated columns, all that exists
of the noble tribute of gratitude raised by Augustus
to the god of thunder, when he returned unscathed
from the rush of his awful shaft. A slower but not
less sure agency has not passed negligently by the
monument, and the naked triumvirate, clustered, as
if in the `fellowship of grief,' but feebly represent
the living sentiment which gave them birth. The
same number of these erect and solitary relies, lifting
their burdenless capitals in air, furnish the commencement
of an outline which observation may
continue and imagination embody, of the temple of
Jupiter Stator. Cold chroniclers of thrilling times
are they; senseless spectators of what would kindle
even the enthusiastic, which else we might almost
envy. It seems as if something of pride yet lingered
about these decayed remnants of a once glorious
company. They bore the vaulted roof, which

echoed the most eloquent outpourings of moral indignation;
they stood around, silent and stern, when
about them were the not less inflexible forms of the
Roman soldiery, and the sudden gathering of her
alarmed citizens, and within, the deliberate and imposing
presence of the accuser, and the pale countenance
and hurried glances of the accused—for it
was here that Cicero condemned Catiline. The
temples of Concord and of Peace, the one boasting
eight remaining columns, and the other three fragmentary
arches, next attracted attention and suggested
similar reminiscences.

But soon we were obliged to quit a scene so
absorbing in its suggestive influences, to wander
among the dense ranges of modern buildings, and
descry, here and there, a few pillars or other remains
of what once stood forth contributing their now
isolated symmetry to the formation of a beautiful
and perfect whole. The arches of Titus, Constantine
and Janus respectively occupied and interested
us, particularly the former, from the sacred vessels
and symbols of the Jewish temple, exhibited in
basso relievo, upon its interior surface; the niches of
the latter are dispossessed of the statues which once
adorned them; the bronze fastenings which connected
the stones are gone, and broad gaps mark
the violence with which they were extricated. In
the vicinity, I attentively perused the little square
arch erected by the jewellers of the Forum to Septimius
and his wife, and passing on, observed the

pillars and site of the temples of Vesta and Fortune
transformed into churches.

When we found ourselves near the wonderful old
aqueducts contiguous to the walls, we were long
amused with the peculiarities and impressed with
the antiquated features of these strange and extensive
remains. From some elevated positions, we
gained a view of the neighbouring mountains, lifting
their undulating forms beneath the vapory masses
of the dim atmosphere, and reflecting in faint yet
rich tints, the few rays of sunshine which struggled
through the leaden clouds. We had seen no general
view more congenial with the ruins or more exciting
to the associations of Rome.

On another occasion we left the city by the
Appian Way, and were mindful of the circumstance
of St. Paul having entered by the identical road,
After a considerable walk, we reached the tomb of
the Scipios, situated by the road-side, and the entrance
not distinguishable from other similar gateways,
except by the inscription. Entering this, we
soon came to the vault, secured merely with loose
wooden doors, and having no distinctive beauty.
With a guide and tapers we explored the dark and
chilly avenues of this tomb, pausing here and there
to con the many inscriptions which exist upon the
walls. Two of the sarcophagi are in the Vatican,
but one or two yet remain. We soon hastened from
this damp and melancholy sepulchre, whose earthy
floor was worn by the feet of many curious pilgrims,

like ourselves, and pondering upon the contrast between
the men who once reposed there, their probable
anticipations of their country and the present,
we extended our walk and penetrated far into the
labyrinthine catacombs beneath the church of St.
Sebastian.