92 THE BASILICA OF CONSTANTINE. treasuries for the palatial Piles those Marbles have adorned; or contrasting their present humiliation with that "Most high and palmy state of Rome," when such men as Augustus and Mecenas found in them a source of boasting and delight; when that wilderness of Building, the Casa d'Oro, numbered them among its most majestic embellishments, or when Titus overwhelmed its monstrous projections of Pride with his own redundant decorations. And now they are lost, those ancient Quarries, those Titan parents of colossal gems! At any rate, I have a lozenge Brick from the Golden House, and a beauteous piece of Giallo from the Palace of the Cæsars! Rome, June 2, 1844. OUT of the very few old things with new names, whose claims I am disposed to recognize, the Basilica of Constantine, long belied by the title of the Temple of Peace, stands foremost. There can be no doubt in the mind of the Classic Antiquary that this is one of those gigantic creations of the Roman Empire (whose Architecture ever derived from Vastness one source of the Sublime) distinguished by the title of Basilica. THE TEMPLES OF THE CROSS. 93 Comparing this Edifice with any productions either of Greek or Latin structure to which the designation of Temple has been universally awarded, it is impossible to range this most majestic Building in their rank. It is in fact in Ruin, what the Pinacotheca of Dioclesian's Thermæ was without Michael Angelo's noble Greek Cross. You have the same splendid ornaments which generally illustrate that late period of Latin Architecture, that deeply moulded decoration of the Vault (sometimes octagonal, sometimes lozenged, and sometimes square) commonly known by the name of Sunk Coffer-work. You have the Nave with its two Aisles, (if such they can be termed, for all three are of equal vastitude) the Central Alley being distinguished from its brethren by the stately Hemicycle, that grand Recess or Alcove, in which was commonly enthroned the Tribune of Justice, identified to this day with the Tribuna or Apsis, which terminates the earlier Romanesque and Gothic Churches. Footmarks of those colossal strides of Marble and Brass and Gold, by which the parting Giants of the West divulged at once their magnificence and their decay, it was this very developement of form, it was this very exaggeration of size, that the Primitive Christians worthily chose as soon as they were permitted the choice for their devotional Assemblies. And one knows not whether most to admire the Pagan sublimity of 94 THE TEMPLES OF THE CROSS. these enormous Aisles, or the Christian Adoration, which, selecting them as the Temples of the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords, whose majesty the Heaven of Heavens cannot contain, broke them up into that wonderful symbol of His Love, the Cross. Whether this then be the Basilica of Constantine or not, a Basilica it most indisputably is. For my part, I own, that although at first my wonder was engrossed by the stupendous proportions of the vault, and that superb-pattern of Coffer-work into which its arches had resolved themselves. I soon forgot all in my contemplation of one massy fragment, sculptured and curved, wild in its shape, and prodigious as to its balk, which, having fallen from the Tribuna, centuries back, I found from its own weight half sunk into the earth. To be able to put one's hand into those mouldings, which, seen from afar, one fancies an Augustan palm might easily cover with gilding or precious marbles, and to find ti each is nearly ten feet in diameter, does indeed give one some notion of the Genius that couic conceive, or the sing a Vault. Power that could elevate so so With some such a lapidatione Cyclops Polypheme must have overwhelmed poor Acis. Sisyphus himself would have been out of all patience with it. And yet a few slates or a yard of lead would be more missed from our modern Temples ! A FESTA IN THE RAIN. 95 As for the huge Fabric itself, grand as it appears even on the closest inspection, delightful in its details, and exciting in its probable associations, it should be observed, at first sight, as from a distant elevation, such as the Hill of the Janiculum for instance, whence, to your astonishment, it discloses its triple Arcade, like some Bridge of Enchantment, intended to connect the base of the Capitol with the brow of the Coliseum! WE were at a Festa in the Villa Borghese to-day, and had the satisfaction of sitting from beginning to end, amidst the hisses of inexorable Rain, with the head of our vehicle closed, at that distance from the grassy Circus, necessarily prescribed for cavaliers and coachmen. It is true, the cushions were luxurious enough, but not so well stuffed as to prevent our feeling that we were on "the Horns of a Dilemma." We must either run the risk of being drenched to the skin, or else from beneath the curtains of the voiture, discover that we were just near enough to see-the umbrellas of the assembly! But then those Groves of antique Ilex trees, evergreen Monsters, each with his hundred arms, a Briareus in himself! I never can forget the slow slow billowing of their druidical foliage, or the solemn oracles that the deep Wind breathed from 96 ROMAN NIGHTINGALES. 66 their impenetrable bosoms. The Heavens were one vast armament of Clouds; νεφέλας ἐριβρόμου Σrparós," as Pindar grandly calls it, the very glory of gloom! The distant hollows, and bosky glades, apparently surrendering the lustre of their true Italian green to the stern tinctures of that frowning firmament, seemed uncongenial homes for those delicious Philomels, whose fiery bursts of rapturous melody, not all these inhospitable skies, not all this clamorous multitude could intimidate or overcome; challenging each other, they seemed to excite themselves into a delirium of Music. Quavering, swelling, soaring, delicatė and strong, fierce and tender by turns; their emulous torrents of versatile song consoled us amply for our leathern Prison. Entranced in their own inspiration, they heed neither wind, nor rain, nor gloom. You might have fancied some Roman Sibyl from her invisible Grotto, pouring forth her raptures of celestial song. Gently filling up each wondrous pause with their silver harmonies, a hundred Fountains tinkled in the air; While, springing high, the silvery dew and seemed to reproach the insulting torrents, that made their mossy Vases overflow. The rainy wind tossed to and fro the coronals of those imperial Pines, those paragons of height and stateliness. They seem indeed to "Have outgrown |