in which duty is not inculcated, nor one in which glory is alluded to. Singleness of heart was the great characteristic of the British hero, a sense of duty his ruling principle: falsehood pervaded the French conqueror, the thirst for glory was his invariable motive. The former proceeded on the belief, that the means, if justifiable, would finally work out the end: the latter, on the maxim that the end would in every case justify the means. Napoleon placed himself at the head of Europe, and desolated it for fifteen years with his warfare; Europe placed Wellington at the head of its armies, and he gave it thirty years of unbroken peace. The one exhibited

the most shining example of splendid talents devoted to temporal ambition; the other, the noblest instance of moral influence directed to exalted purposes. The former was in the end led to ruin, while blindly following the phantom of worldly greatness; the latter was unambitiously conducted to final greatness, while only following the star of public duty. The struggle between them was the same at bottom as that which, anterior to the creation of man, shook the powers of heaven: and never was such an example of moral government afforded as the final result of their immortal contest."

mind. He is brought successively into contact with every government and people in the civilized world, China only excepted; and his best informed readers will be the most ready to acknowledge the extent of knowledge, solidity of judgment, and justness of reflection with which their various systems of policy and principles of government are discussed and expounded. His most partial admirers will, perhaps, desiderate a little less haste and dogmatism in his dissertations respecting intricate matters of finance, and his adjudications respecting knotty points of international law; while as a moral investigator of the principles of action, whose foundations lie deeper than the historian often thinks it needful to penetrate, he has yet much to learn, as we could easily show did time permit us to enter fully upon the consideration of the pages which constiIn them we distute his conclusion. cern the workings both of a religious and a philosophical mind, but one not yet arrived at full maturity, or mellowed into that ripeness of wisdom which we doubt not it is yet destined to attain, and by which Mr. Alison will be enabled to see in religion the perfection of philosophy, and in philo. sophy the handmaid of religion. That his reflections are, upon the whole, just and wise, is most true; but he has as yet attained to but half the truth; and while he detects with admirable precision the latent source of that perturbation in human affairs by which nations are convulsed and governments rocked and agitated to their base, he is not equally happy in lighting upon the adjusting and rectifying principle by which a proper equilibrium would be established in society, and harmony maintained amongst the nations. But we must not be drawn farther at present. We acknowledge with gratitude the obligations under which Mr. Alison has laid us, and we need not say that in whatever shape his genius may prompt him to appear, we shall be glad to meet with him again.

Rome, April, 1938. WHEN I last wrote, our visit to the Capitol was at hand. I will not confess how often I longed for the hour to come, nor how often my attention has been diverted from objects of deep interest by sundry yearnings after its unseen treasures. I had never asked myself what I expected, nor turned inquisitively to the guide books; I can therefore scarcely explain why the exterior so completely disappointed

me.

It is all modern-did you know it? so here again the graceful veil which imagination had thrown over the antiquities dropped away at the touch of reality. I knew that Michael Angelo had built several palaces on the Capitoline Mount, that the Tarpeian rock was no rock at all, and that heathen and Christian traditions were strangely mingled in its history; but imagination had confidently assured me, that I should read of the greatness of other days in ruins majestic even in decay that a name which belongs to the earliest days of the republic still lived in monuments impressive even in their loneliness. Alas for the Capitol -the citadel of the "Queen of the earth!—not one vestige of antiquity meets the eye-not one temple, even in ruins, speaks of the empire, or of the many gods of peace and war to whom her temples were dedicated! The vaults under the senator's palace, and about eighty feet of wall under that of the Caffarelli, are the chief remains of ancient days to be found by the most diligent seekers on the capitoline. The Franciscan church

of Santa Maria, Ara Cæli, is supposed to stand on the site of one of the temples of Jupiter, and to have borrowed from it the fine columns that support the roof. Underneath the church of St. Pietro in Carçere are the remains of the Mamertine prisons. The summit of the Tarpeian rock is covered with wretched hovels; its once fatal depth considerably diminished by the accummulated rubbish of centuries. Perhaps you will think I have pretty well accounted for my disappointment, as, in this meagre list,

I have named all the antiquities that are to be seen. Happily I expected nothing from the two palaces-" dei Conservatori" del Senatore-or from the museum, which enclose three sides of the piazza of the modern Capitol. Their exterior corresponds little to the great name of the architect. They are heavy, clumsy buildings, though the double flight of steps leading to the palace of the senator has a fine effect. The heavy, tasteless windows are the sins of a later architect; but certainly the extravagance to which Michael Angelo's system led seems to have been the result of his want of true taste in this noble department of art. The centre of the piazza is occupied by the celebrated equestrian bronze statue of Marcus Aurelius, on his still more celebrated horse, which seems only to wait the will of his master to start into life and motion. The court, portico, and lower rooms are filled with sarcophagi, bas-reliefs, inscriptions, and a host of Egyptian deities, most of them executed, however, in Rome, when, in deference to Hadrian's taste, it became a fashion to admire these stiff barbarisms; they are, however, distinguished from the true Egyptian works by their higher finish and more correct forms. The sphinxes are by no means to be classed with the barbarisms: they are particular favourites of mine, with their massive features and solemn expression of wisdom. Why cannot you tell me if we agree?—what a long way off it seems to send a little thought for sympathy! I was full of pity, with a small infusion of contempt, for the tasteless imitations of Hadrian's day, when hosts of Grecian models were within reach, until I recolected the pitiful revival of a taste even more depraved in our own time-that for Chinese monstrosities-ships sailing in the sky, fishes swimming on the land, pagodas standing on nothing, &c. &c.

But a truce to reflection, as the hero of an old novel is wont to say. I wish I could only make my paper reflect the half of what delighted me in the Capitol. Among many examples

of the imitative spirit is a very curious altar, on which are sculptured, in relief, the labours of Hercules. In many respects it appears strictly antique, while some of its characteristics are evidently of a later date. A fine spirited Diana, watching the arrow just shot from her bow, is one of the few statues I admired before we reached the second suite of apartments, except, indeed, a beautiful female figure on the staircase, veiled in almost transparent drapery, which, according to your good pleasure, you may imagine a vestal, a sepulchral figure, or a modesty. The critics allow great latitude in naming antiques; but as you have set me up as your guide, it is incumbent on me to tell you, that in giving my admiration to this figure I committed a grievous error: be sure to recollect that transparency is not an effect to be attempted in marblethat this exquisite veil sins against propriety; and, however you may feel inclined to share my sin against true taste, you must stifle the unworthy inclination, and frown upon such tricks of a degenerate age. Seriously, it does please the eye, but not the judg ment; and much as I deprecate the slavery of mind which takes the dicta of others as its standard, without a careful study of their reasons, it is most desirable to gain some insight into the principles of art which guided the Greeks to a perfection which seems hopelessly unattainable by their successors of every age. artist of Greece would have too well understood the proper limits of his art to have attempted a representation of the form as seen through a transparent covering, though in his simple and expressive drapery the graceful movement of the limbs is as perceptible as in nature. In the gallery are several busts, with names of great interest; but who can vouch for their right to them? Here is a statue that needs no warrant; the spirit of Lysippus plays in the flexile grace, the ease and life of Cupid bending the bow. An ancient copy in the Villa Albani is far inferior in elegance and finish ;— this, too, is only a copy! My ignorance respecting these copies has been a fruitful source of disappointment, in leading me to believe that in the ancient sculpture here I should see the actual chef d'œuvres of the masters of

An

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the schools of Greece. I knew that immense numbers of them had been removed to Constantinople, and had there fallen a prey to the blind fury of the Iconoclasts, but still I never doubted that the Apollo Belvidere, wounded Amazon, and multitudes of others were the very statues which had been the glory of the temples and cities of Greece. It is mortifying to learn that scarcely any of these originals exist. Admirable as are some of the copies, the unsatisfactory feeling will arise while studying them. that greater works have been, and are lost to us for ever. Next to having the original chef d'œuvres, however, is the certainty that the manifold copies of them are by Greek artists of closely succeeding periods. We know that after the conquest of Greece Rome became the chief seat of art-the fruitful soil to which the Greeks transplanted their own graceful mythology and delicate perception of the beautiful; and the Romans munificently encouraged and fostered those arts, which, without genius to originate, they had taste sufficient to patronize. Now I see the dissenting shake of the head with which you read this; and I, who am no great admirer myself (shall I say thanks to you?) of the Romans of the empire, admit it was no unmixed admiration for the arts which suggested the wholesale plunder of the great master-works of Greece. Still they did encourage the arts in a grand spirit; and though destitute of the poetic character of the refined Grecian, they were still gifted with a feeling for the great and magnificent which manifested itself in those splendid structures they have scattered over Europe, and in the amazing number of statues, busts, &c. &c., destined to adorn them. In the small rooms which open from the gallery are some interesting vases; one very large, adorned with vine leaves and other symbols of Bacchus; it is placed on an Etruscan pedestal, adorned with sculptured figures of the twelve great gods: another of bronze-one of the wonders of the deep, for it was discovered in the port of Antium, and, according to the inscription, belonged to a king of Pontus. The sarcophagi here are more interesting as illustrating the thoughts and feelings of the age than for the merit of their execution.

If

we had time, I should like to make out the symbolical allusions which on many of them are far from evident. On one the fable of Prometheus is the subject; on others there are portrait busts, &c. &c. The ancient mosaic of the four doves drinking from a vase, so well known in small copies, is here: the simplicity of the design and the well-chosen colours make it a far more beautiful work of art than I expected. It is composed entirely of natural stones, so small that one hundred and sixty are contained in a single square inch. It formed the centre of the pavement in a room in Hadrian's villa.

I must pass by the remainder of the gallery, despite the fine heads of Niobe and two of her children; busts of Phocian, Scipio Africanus, &c.; for seated in the centre of the Hall of the Emperors which adjoins it is the celebrated Agrippina-the model of Canova's Madame Mère. It is a noble figure, the very personification of a Roman matron-grand, majestic, and dignified; with uncommon ease in the attitude, and a truthfulness of expression which stamps it at once as a portrait. The drapery alone dissatisfies me; the elaborate folds do not, I think, always follow the movement of the limbs. It was probably by Napoleon's desire that the statue of his mother was made a copy of this fine antique, the sculptor himself would hardly have desired to encounter the comparison in the soft rounding of the flesh he seems to me as inferior as in the dignity and expression of the head. Busts of several of the emperors are ranged round the room, and are considered one of the most valuable parts of the collection, not only as historical monuments, but as marks of the progress-sometimes the degeneracy of different periods of art. In some the individual likeness appears to have been preserved, without any attempt to idealize or elevate the character; others, to gratify imperial vanity, or by the flattery of the senate, are represented as the gods or heroes of antiquity-the real and assumed character amalgamated with great skill. I am no phrenologist and not much of a physiognomist, I cannot say any of the heads appeared to me trikingly characteristic: many of them ight change names with their neighurs without disturbing my belief in

their identity. The best men have not the best faces; Nero looks as humane and has a better expression than Vespasian, Commodus and Caracalla as dignified and placid as though they had never dreamt of crime or cruelty.

The next apartment, that of the philosophers, has much higher claims to respect. The Grecians (it is dedicated to them as well as to the Romans) are generally well authenticated, as the busts of their sages, poets, and philosophers were placed in the public edifices by these true worshippers of art in her every form. While the Roman emperors carefully impressed their own features on marble and bronze for the benefit of posterity, to the neglect of greater men, the wise and intellectual Greek employed the same imperishable characters to perpetuate the memory of the benefactors of mankind. Hence it is that the Catos, Virgils, &c. are generally mere impostors, while we have every reason to believe that the busts of Plato, Socrates, Demosthenes, &c. &c. are genuine portraits. How came nature to give such a head to Socrates?— modern imagination would have done him far greater justice. The fine characteristic head of Homer is suppositious, but copied from an ancient and celebrated original. In the centre of this room is a most graceful bronze figure, supposed to be one of a youthful priesthood instituted by Romulus. I find by my list I saw a bust of Faerno, an architect, by Michael Angelo. I cannot recollect any thing about it-a proof, I think, of its want of merit, but you may think differently. The walls of both these rooms are filled with bas-reliefs. In the saloon are two inimitable centaurs in nero antico; one a joyous mirthful creature looks back with an air of malicious triumph, perhaps at the little Achilles he is supposed to have carried off on his back: but there is no Achilles there now. The other a poor dejected being, his hands tied behind him, looks as rueful in his captivity, as his companion joyous in his freedom. Both figures are full of life and expression. The wounded Amazon and another preparing to spring forward, are ancient copies of celebrated Greek works. The first is touchingly graceful and one of the best specimens I have seen of the simple, expressive

character of Grecian sculpture in form and drapery. The statues of Isis— the tunic in stiff folds, the fringed upper garment knotted on the breast —are not in general considered good works. They principally belong to the time of Commodus and Caracalla, by both of whom she was made an object of worship. One with the lotus wreath round her head, said to be a portrait statue, I thought beautiful, despite the critics. With the noble figure called (I do not know why) the Master of a Gymnasticschool-a little Harpocrates, finger on lip, enjoining the silence which no one keeps in looking at him—a grand semicolossal Apollo of the most ancient type, severe and less youthful than from the later schools-I must leave the saloon.

The next apartment takes its name from the faun in Rosso Antico-the graceful invention, it is believed, of Praxiteles. His wild gaiety and bounding form are highly characteristic; he holds his bunch of grapes above his head with a gleesome comic air, which makes his smile ludicrously infectious. This room, like the others, is filled with statues, busts, &c., among which we could have lingered long, if the last of the suite, had not contained the Dying Gladiator. You well know the figure from casts, but no statue suffers more in translation than this. Of its kind it seems to me perfect. Nature here asks no aid from fancy or from history to awaken our sympathy; the expression is deeply pathetic, the energy of will that still sustains the drooping form is slowly yielding to the near approach of death. It is hardly possible to gaze upon it long without fancying that the figuregrowing more and more feeble-is gradually sinking to the ground. The execution appears to me faultless; there is a breadth grandeur in the lines, and an expression of lassitude in the muscles, which convey an impression of life and reality almost entirely lost in the copies. The best authorities have decided that it is one of the excellent works of the Ephesian school, and from the moustaches, fashion of the hair, and neck-chain-a dying Celt; probably the terminal figure of a group which represented one of the battle scenes and the defeat of this people a favourite subject of the

period. There is no foundation for the often-repeated assertion that the right arm is a restoration by Michael Angelo. Nor is it known where this fine work was discovered, but the greater number of the best statues, &c. of this collection were buried in the ruins of Hadrian's villa. I looked till sympathy grew almost painful, and it was some time before I could enjoy even the Venus, which is only second in execution to the Medicean. The form is most graceful and true to nature; the firmness and smoothness of the flesh a triumph of art. The embrace of Cupid and Psyche is one of the most poetical of the Roman conceptions; though founded on a Greek fable it assumes a still more beautiful form in the hands of later artists. The group here is highly spirituelle, (I really cannot think of an English word that combines the spirit, grace, and soul of this French one,) qualities that are wonderfully blended in the form and expressive heads of these youthful lovers. In this apartment too there are many other matchless works of art which I must reserve for some pleasant future, when words spoken will have power denied to words written, to tell you of their varied excellence and beauty. We had now seen enough for the morning, but in the evening we finished our visit to the Capitol.

In the Palazzo dei Conservatori we saw nothing, ancient or modern, so remarkable as the procession of the senators and conservators which passed out as we passed in; one mighty senator, six ditto conservators -vulgar slovenly-looking men; Sir John Falstaff would not have marched through Coventry with them. I expected some remains at least of the grandeur of former days, and that we should have felt it a mournful sight it was simply ludicrous and nothing more. How men do cling to the name of power and of place; here the shadow of a shade, as their duties are discharged by the governor of the city, and the names are mere honorary distinctions. The real brazen wolf, an Etruscan antique, is here; the Fasti Consulares, ancient and modern; innumerable fragments of ancient sculpture which but faintly indicate the beauty which they once helped to form. The well-known Ro