the few remains of that of Pompey; the two bridges of the Tiberine island; the Ælian bridge; the Mausoleums of Augustus and Hadrian; the two historical columns; the inscribed obelisks; the column of Phocas; the Septimian arch in the Velabrum; the castellum of the Claudian aqueduct; two or three of the city gates. The other ruins and fragments are either anonymous, or the names given to them by antiquaries must be considered as arbitrary and questionable.

But of what consequence is it to be able to give a name to the pillars, walls, or foundations which baffle the learned labours of the antiquary and topographer? What difference does it make, whether they determine the remains of an Ionic portico to be that of the Temple of Concord or the Temple of Fortune? To enjoy the genuine pleasure derived from these speaking relics of antiquity, the visiter will do well to waive all these curious inquiries, which tend only to bewilder the imagination, and to fritter down every feeling of enthusiasm. Having acquired a general idea of the topography of the ancient city, having satisfied himself (as he easily may) respecting the situation of the Forum and the localities of prominent historic interest, and identifie the few unquestionable monuments of the Republic and the Empire -he will do well to abstain from further inquiries, which leave no alternative between implicit acquiescence in the current nomenclature of the ruins and a total scepticism. Rarely would the name of the temple or the tomb, if ascertained, inspire any peculiar emotions. Few are the associations of moral grandeur connected with the history or monuments of Rome. The classical enthusiast turns with comparative disgust from the vestiges of the capital of the Cæsars, in search of the scanty memorials of the free city. The only era that interests his imagination, is the golden age of historical romance. To the moralist, on the other hand, it is the fate of

"The great Queen of earth, Imperial Rome,"

There have been ecclesias

that gives its chief interest to the scene. tical antiquaries who have seemed to think it "of little importance that the Capitol was ever inhabited by any others than the monks of Ara-cæli, or that the court of Augustus preceded that of the Popes." Apart from all these, the connoisseur, who cares little about either Cæsar or Pontiff, finds in Rome an inexhaustible field; to him, however, the treasures of the Vatican far outshine all the historic glories of the seven hills. "The works of the fine arts," Dr. Burton remarks, "are the only objects which it is impossible not to admire and be satisfied with."

As a place of residence, Rome is neither gay nor cheerful; and its climate, delicious as it is in winter, is both insufferably hot and unhealthy in summer. The surrounding country is a desert. What then renders this city so peculiarly attractive? Not, we apprehend, its antiquities, its architecture, its paintings, its scenery, or its historic associations, not either of these separately considered, but the picturesque combination of the whole, together with the almost exhaustless variety of feature which solicits the attention and charms the imagination. Other cities may be far more beautiful, but Rome is per

haps the most richly picturesque city in the world. The hills, insignificant in themselves, seem made to display the buildings to the greatest advantage. The architecture, both ancient and modern, is for the most part faulty in principle, often incongruous in its elements, impure in taste; but it has one redeeming characteristic,—it always combines well with the landscape, and, by its richness, variety, and grandeur, atones for the want of simplicity and of a chaster elegance. At Rome, the spectator is dazzled with the multiplicity of objects; and the decaying ruins are relieved by the modern magnificence. "It is not," remarks Mr. Woods, "any one thing you see, any more than one point of history that you have to remember: multitudes of fragments are included in one view, not very perfect and distinct in their forms, yet, sufficient to excite the imagination. They crowd on the eye, as the scenes of history on the memory."

In spite of all he may have seen elsewhere, and of all the views and drawings that may have familiarised to his eye particular buildings, Rome is still "a new world to an architect." "The paradise of artists, it is full of their objects and recollections." With much that may disappoint or disgust, it can scarcely pall or weary; and thus, whatever be the nature of the first impressions which the city awakens, few places seem to have an equal power of fascinating the traveller, and of detaining him a willing resident till his feelings settle into a sort of local attachment.' pp. 205-9.

On looking back over our comments, we feel that they contain but a meagre criticism of a work and a subject of which the value and importance fairly demand from us more than we have found it easy to accomplish. We take our leave, then, of these volumes, recommending them to the traveller for their comprehensiveness and portability; to the general reader for their interesting character and for the accessibility of their information; and to all instructors of youth as the best foundation for a thorough mastery of Italian story,—of all histories the most important and the most extensive in its bearings, whether we take it in its relation to modern or to the olden times.

Since the first publication, a valuable Itinerary has been added to each volume.

Art. VIII. Road Book from London to Naples. By William Brockedon, F.R.S., Member of the Florentine and Roman Academies of the Fine Arts, &c. Illustrated with twenty-five Views from Drawings by Stanfield, Prout, and Brockedon, engraved by W. and E. Finden. 8vo. London, 1835.

THOSE readers of our journal who are already on their road to Naples, may justly reproach us for being at least a month too late in our recommendation of this to them indispensable companion. We are sorry for it. The volume was delayed in

its way to our hands; but to those who have been disappointed of the opportunity, or have not the means, of making so distant an excursion,to tarry at home travellers, or to those who, having crossed the Alps, wish to fight their travelling battless o'er again, -or to those ladies or gentlemen who have tables in boudoir, drawing-room, or library, appropriated to scrap-books, keepsakes, and other ornamental literature with which the exquisitely beautiful illustrations of this Road-book entitle it to rank;-to each and all of these classes of purchasers, our recommendation will be in good season, as the time is only approaching for such in-door pleasures. As a book of plates, it is one of the most delightful Landscape Annuals-we of course anticipate other volumes-that has yet appeared. The Illustrations are, as announced on the title-page, twenty-five in number. Five are assigned to France, two to Savoy, five to Northern Italy; then we have Florence, Pisa, the Lake of Thrasymene, the Valley of the Nar, Terni, Civita Castellana, Rome, Velletri, the Pontine Marshes, Terracina, Mola di Gaeta, Naples. Dover makes the twenty-fifth. There are also maps of the route, along which these scenes and objects occur.

The distinguishing merit of Mr. Brockedon's book, putting aside its graphic embellishments, which do credit to both the pencil and the graver of the respective artists, is, that it is all it professes to be-a Road-book, and the most complete of the kind, as to all the details of information which a tourist stands in need of, that we have ever met with. And as the information is not collected at second-hand, but supplied by the Writer's ample experience, the directions may be depended upon, which is a great matter. It is in fact, so far as regards the route described, a complete traveller's directory. Mr. Brockedon is, moreover, a trustworthy Cicerone, and, being himself an artist, is qualified to direct the traveller to the objects most deserving of his attention. Of the vivacity with which he describes, we shall present to our readers a specimen, in a picturesque account of the road from Spoleto to Rome.

Soon after leaving Spoleto, the road winds up the Monte Somma, a tedious ascent, with its never-failing accompaniment, a swarm of beggars. When the "tanta fame!" and "Carita per la grazia di Dio!" fail, flattery, amusingly applied, often succeeds. A set of unsuccessful young beggars, having once failed here, with the usual cant and cry, to obtain a baioccho from the ladies in an English carriage, suddenly stopped, and one of them gazing with rapt admiration, exclaimed, "Che belli occhi! Ah! come sono belle queste donne Inglesi!" This capital bit of performance provoked a hearty laugh, and loosened the purse-strings. The descent towards Terni is much wilder than on the other side of the mountain; and the route, nearly the whole way to Terni, is through a savage, but pic

turesque glen. Few pass through it, without thinking of its fitness for the haunts of banditti; and not a face or figure is to be met in the journey through it, that removes the impression.

There are several good inns at Terni: the Europa is excellent. The moment the traveller arrives, he is surrounded by applicants offering their cars and mules for an excursion to the Caduta del Marmore, the celebrated cataract, about four or five miles distant. The charge at the inn for a light carriage, to take four persons, is thirty-five pauls; for the driver six; and if asses be taken to continue the excursion beyond where the carriage can be driven, four pauls each, which includes buono mano; a cicerone for the party, who considers his services indispensable, seven pauls: to these are to be added fifty beggars, whose attendance must be bought off. The drive to the falls is very fine, especially near the village of Perpiguo, which is perched on a rock in a striking situation; but from the mean and unglazed windows, it seems to be inhabited only by the poor, the wretched, and, from the appearance of the inhabitants, the dishonest. On the left of

the road a point commands a fine view of the Valley of the Nera or Nar, which is very picturesque. Beyond the village the road ascends the hill, passing some large old olive trees, and attains the top of the falls, where the scene is strikingly impressive. The vast mass of water gushing from its channel into the gulph below, -the roar,-the spray wreathing and reeking up from the awful cauldron, are most appalling. If the visitor has sufficient firmness of feet, and steadiness of head, and the demands are not serious upon either, he can descend by a path which winds down among the tufo rocks, formed by the deposit of the waters of the Velino, to a building which has been erected opposite to the fall, and about one hundred feet below its summit, upon a jutting rock that overhangs the abyss hundreds of feet, into which the water falls below. There is nothing more fearful to contemplate, than the roar and the foaming of the waters, as they pass the windows of this house in their descent. It is horribly beautiful. The first epithet applies to the cataract; the second to the Iris, which, whenever the sun shines, plays over the gulph of terror. An eternal verdure is spread over the rocks, promoted by the spray which constantly falls around. From the building a path leads down to the valley, which can be crossed by a bridge incrusted with calcareous deposit. From below, the view of the whole cataract is magnificent. The carriage, when the party leaves it to go to the top of the fall, is usually directed to be driven down into the valley, where it waits to take back the visitors through the grounds of the Villa Graziani to Terni. The whole scenery of the beautiful valley of the Mera, above the town, is highly picturesque, each successive point giving some new and beautiful landscape to the traveller. This excursion, which occupies three or four hours, has no parallel in the grandeur and beauty of the class of objects which it commands; and in describing them, even the pen of Lord Byron must be said to have failed.

The ruins of the colossal bridge of Augustus at Narni, which consisted of three large arches, is a fine example of such a Roman structure: one vast and lofty arch remains nearly perfect. The scenery around Narni, and especially near this bridge, is very beautiful. The

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steep hills on each side of the river are richly wooded; and down the stream, seen through the noble arch that remains, the Hermitage of St. Casciano rising among the woods, is an object of singular beauty. Narni is finely situated on a hill commanding an extensive view of the Valley of the Nera, bounded in the distance by the Apennines. Near the town, the passes through a deep fissure in the rock, the sides of which, in many places, have been excavated, and the cells thus formed are inhabited. The old towers and walls of Narni are highly picturesque, and come admirably into view on leaving it to proceed towards Otricoli.

The route now varies in character; the prospect is extensive towards the south; the olive-grounds are more numerous; and from some high ground before reaching Otricoli, the Tiber is seen winding its course towards Rome. The prospect has a vast extent; the old town is seen on a hill with a few towers and religious houses, and here the first view of Mont Soracte, rising above the Campagna, is obtained. Beyond Otricoli, the scenes, though often beautiful, are less rich than on the confines of Tuscany. Before reaching Borghetto, the Tiber is crossed over a fine bridge built by Augustus, whose numerous structures of this class certainly entitled him to the distinction of Pontifex Maximus, which was assumed, and is still borne, by the priest-sovereigns of the "eternal city": but though a pope cannot boast of building this bridge, he does most pompously of repairing it; and many inscriptions indicate that Sistus V. restored this fine work. Borghetto is a wretched place—an epithet that will apply with justice to nearly all the towns and villages in his Holiness's territory. Situated amidst the finest scenes, the heart sickens in looking upon the degraded state of man under the curse of a government which paralyses his energies.

On approaching Civita Castellana, the deep ravine is observed through which a tributary to the Tiber flows. This gorge is crossed by a stupendous bridge, which Simond states is raised 250 feet above the stream. The effect of entering this place over the fearful depths of the ravine, and under the dark walls of the town, is impressive, and excites emotions of which description would fail to give the least idea. The sketch-book of travellers in Italy teem with the materials for landscape furnished at Civita Castellana. Its towers, convents, and fortress, the palace raised by Pope Alexander VI., now a stateprison, its wall and aqueduct, the precipices overhanging its deep ravines, the Campagna, and proximate Mont Soracte, afford endless combinations; and the inns, La Posta, and the Croce Bianca, may be endured for the pleasure of a short stay in so picturesque a spot.

From Civita Castellana, the Flaminian Way continues its course to the Milvian Bridge, near Rome, passing through Riguano and Prima Porta. Until within these sixty years, it was the chief road to Rome from Civita Castellana; about that time the new branch to join the road from Viterbo to Rome, now generally followed, was made by order of Pius VI.

Nepi is a miserable, though a picturesque place, but its dark walls, towers, and fort, over-hanging a deep ravine, across which there is an ancient aqueduct, which still conveys water to the town, shew that its