"Reading maketh a full man, conference a
readye man, and writing an exacte man"
— Bacon

LITERARY LANDMARKS

OF

ROME

LAURENCE HUTTON
AUTHOR OF " LITERARY LANDMARKS OF FLORENCE"
"LITERARY LANDMARKS OF VENICE"
ETC., ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1897, by Harper & Brothers,

All rights reserved.

TO
EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN
THE EARLIEST PERSONAL LANDMARK
IN
MY LITERARY LIFE

ILLUSTRATIONS

THE SPANISH STEPS  Frontisfitct
POMPEY'S STATUE  Faci>tgf. 8
THE FORUM  " I2
ALBERGO DELL' ORSO  " 18
TASSO'S GARDEN  " 20
SANTA MARIA SOPRA MINERVA  " 22
KEATS'S GRAVE  " 34
SHELLEY'S GRAVE  " 40
CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON'S GRAVE . . " 42
THE HOUSE OF ANDERSEN, PIAZZA BARBERINI " 46
HILDA'S TOWER  " 64

LITERARY LANDMARKS OF ROME

LITERARY LANDMARKS OF
ROME

ROME, like Venice, is merely the stopping-
place of the modern Man of Letters. Flor
ence is his home. He lives in Florence; he
lodges here. In Florence he buys a villa, or
he takes a long lease of a house ; and some
times he engages a plot in the Protestant
Cemetery ; in Rome he usually stays at a
hotel, or he makes pension arrangements for
a limited period. If he dies in Rome he some;-
times leaves here only a portion of his anat
omy, and he sends his heart, or his ashes, to
be buried somewhere else.
There are two distinct classes of English-
speaking visitors to Rome, each of whom, no
doubt, are willing to learn something, and to
see something, of its Literary Landmarks.

The first of these have read Ruskin and1
Mrs. Jameson. They think they know all
about art ; while, unlike Mr. Vedder's beasts
of the fields, in too many instances, they do
not even know what they like. They sit for
hours in rapt enthusiasm before " The Last
Judgment " or before the "Apollo Belvedere,"
looking at those masterpieces through little,
temporary opera-glasses made of their own
fingers, or holding up their right hands and
wagging their right thumbs, in that peculiar
manner which is supposed to denote high-
art appreciation, and which must be familiar
to all students of the students of art. They
gather a great deal of satisfaction out of
Rome, and they go away from it perfectly
content with their own familiarity with all
its rich artistic treasures. The second class
of visitors skim through the galleries and the
churches of Rome as if on parlor-skates, and
in a bored-to-death-sick-and-tired-of-the-Old-
Masters sort of way, which is as sincere as it
is self-evident and is ingenuously expressed.
They are always heartily thankful when it
is all over, and they utter a sigh of absolute

relief when they learn that they have gone
somewhere on the wrong day, and have ab
solutely no other day on which to go. For
both these classes — traditional sight -seers
both, and both of them worthy of all re
spect — is here given some idea of what the
men who made Rome did in Rome, and of
how and where they did it, from Cicero and
Csesar to Shelley and Keats, in the hope
and belief that the tourist will get as much
out of Horace and Hawthorne in Rome as
out of Raphael and Salvator Rosa, or out
of Donatello and Carlo Dolci.
It is, of course, no longer possible to point
out the exact Landmarks of the Literary
Romans of twenty centuries ago, when Bal
bus and his mysterious contemporary — a
gentleman always addressed as " Thou " —
were accustomed to lift up their hands, for
some unknown and seemingly utterly use
less reason, and to the great confusion of
our tenses, persons, and numbers in our
Latin Prose Compositions. Cicero and Tac
itus, and Cato and Sallust, and even Julius
Caesar, have left but few footprints on the

sands of Rome ; and these Darwin's oblit
erating earth-worm and the ravages of Time
have wiped out almost entirely.
Not pretending to any knowledge of anti
quarian lore, the present literary pilgrim, in
this portion of his narrative, must depend
upon the antiquarian knowledge of Mr. Au
gustus J. C. Hare, of Dr. S. Russell Forbes,
of the late Professor J. Henry Middleton,
and of Signor Rodolfo Lanciani ; only add
ing that he himself has seen, or has tried to
see, everything which they point out, and
that he sees, and has attempted to see, no
reason to doubt the truth of their researches.
Without their aid he would have been lost
in ancient Rome ; and to them he begs to
extend here his most sincere thanks.
Dr. Forbes believes that Cicero's house,
under the Palatine, was above that of Csesar ;
that Cicero made his first oration against
Catiline in the Temple of Jupiter Stator, at
the foot of the Palatine Hill, and he places
Cicero's Tusculan Villa on the site of what
is now a Greek monastery, the Grotta Fer-
rata. He adds that Cicero mentions statues

of the Muses which stood in his library, and
that these statues were actually found there
many centuries later. It was here that Cic
ero laid the scenes of his De Divinatione
and Tusculana Dispittationes ; and here he
received the news of his proscription.
It is also recorded that Cicero was more
than once entertained by Lucullus in that
famous villa which stood on the southwest
ern side of the Pincian Hill ; and that upon
his return from banishment, fifty-seven years
before the beginning of the Christian Era, he
was received in triumph by the Senate and
the People of Rome (S. P. Q. R.) at the Porta
Capena, on the Appian Way.
After his assassination the head and the
hands of Cicero were placed upon the Ros
tra, a temporary structure which stood in
the Forum in front of the Curia, where it is
recorded that Fulvia, the widow of Clodius,
spat in his dead face, and added injury to
insult, in a truly unfeminine way, but with a
truly feminine weapon, by sticking her hair
pin through his speechless tongue.
All students will remember that Julius

Caesar announced that all Gaul was divided
into three parts, each of which, with all the
gall in his possession, he attached to him
self. This celebrated Man of Letters, against
the advice of his wife, Calpurnia, went out
to meet his fate on a famous March morn
ing, from the Regia, close to the Temple of
Vesta in the Forum ; and here his widow re
ceived his body, brought back with all its
gaping wounds by a few of his faithful slaves.
Alas ! it was too late for her to tell him that
she had told him so ; but no doubt, in all
her great grief, she thought it.
Mr. Forbes says that Caesar lived in the
first house in the Via Sacra. He describes
it as fronting towards the Temple of Vesta;
while the portico and shops, built at a later
period over its ruins, ran parallel with the
Sacred Way. The house-side of the atrium,
he continues, is plainly marked by the frag
ments of columns, composed of travertine
coated with stucco and frescoed; and amidst
the shops are remains of a beautiful black
and white mosaic pavement, the fragments
of the borders showing that they once be-

longed to the older edifice. The mansion
had two entrances into the Via Sacra, one
nearly touching its northeastern corner.
Caesar was not killed in the Capitol, as
Shakspere said. What Hamlet called that
Brute part was played in Pompey's Senate
House, or the Theatre of Pompey — the
church of S. Andrea_della Valle, on the new
thoroughfare called Corso Vittorio Emanu-
ele, now standing upon its site. Mr. Forbes
explains that the great jstar beneath the cu
pola marks, as nearly as possible, the spot
upon which the autocrat fell. As the de
posed Bonaparte lies under the dome of
the Invalides, in Paris, so rises, in Rome, a
dome over the place where another, if not
a greater, conqueror was extinguished.
Pompey's Statue, a colossal, not ungain
ly figure of a man, at the feet of which
great Caesar fell, is believed generally to be
now standing in the Palazzo Spada alia Re-
gola, in the Piazza Capo di Ferro. It is
placed in what is called the council-chamber
of the palace ; and what are said to be the
stains of great Caesar's blood are still visible

upon the calf of Pompey's left leg. Mr. Hare
quotes Suetonius as narrating that the statue
"was removed from the Curia by Augustus,
and placed upon a marble Janus in front of
the basilica"; and the same authority — Mr.
Hare — adds that " it was found upon that ex
act spot during the pontificate of Julius III."
[1550-55]. Whether this be the original
figure of Pompey or not, it has been ad
dressed by Byron as " Thou dread statue !
yet existent in the austerest form of naked
mystery"; and it has been accepted and
apostrophized by many other well-known
writers of prose and of verse as being au
thentic. And while I am willing to accept
it myself, I must put myself on record as
doubting somewhat the stains of Caesar's
blood. Although the art treasures of the Spada
Palace are not visible to - day, except by
special permission of the existing head of
the Spada family, the porter at the gate
will, for a small gratuity, admit the stranger
to the hall upon the second floor where the
dread statue stands. And it is worth re-

POMPEY S STATUE

cording, as an interesting and characteristic
fact, that the French in the winter of 1788-89
carried this figure to the Colosseum, where
they enacted Voltaire's tragedy of Brutus,
in accents unborn in Brutus's time, and
where they murdered Caesar once more at
its base. This was a performance which
could only have been equalled by the enter
tainment which Colonel William F. Cody,
with his Wild West Show, wished to give, a
century later, on the same spot.
"The statue is entirely nude," said Haw
thorne, " except for a cloak that hangs down
from the left shoulder ; in the left hand is
held a globe ; the right arm is extended.
The whole expression is such as the statue
might have assumed, if, during the tumult
of Caesar's murder, it had stretched forth its
marble hand and motioned the conspirators
to give over the attack, or to be quiet, now
that their victim had fallen at its feet. On
the left leg, about midway above the ankle,
there is a dull red stain, said to be Caesar's
blood ; but, of course, it is just such a red
stain in the marble as may be seen on the

statue of Antinous at the Capitol. ... I am
glad to have seen this statue, and glad to
remember it in that gray, dim, lofty hall ;
glad that there were no bright frescos on
the walls, and that the ceiling was wrought
with massive beams and the floor paved
with ancient brick."
Mark Antony delivered his famous funer
al oration on the Rostra Julia, on the east
ern side of the Forum. The ancient writers
tell us how greatly it moved the people,
who immediately burned the body in that
very place, and afterwards interred the ash
es there ; but they do not report Antony's
words. That they could hardly be more
moving than were the words put into An
tony's mouth by Shakspere all reporters of
great speeches, in the present day, must
assuredly admit. The Temple of Caesar,
which was erected on his funeral pile, Signor
Lanciani says, was destroyed in 1546. It is
now an unmarked mass of rough and broken
stones. The Temple of Caesar and Caesar's house,
and the other intensely interesting features

of the Forum, are not easily distinguished
by the present pilgrim, even with the aid of
the clearest of plans. Small tablets stating
" Here Caesar Lived " or " Here Caesar
Died," or here happened this, or here hap
pened that, historical event, would be of
great help to the inquiring tourist of to-day. i
If Keats and Scott and Goethe are so hon
ored by the municipality of Rome, why
should not the homes of the men of earlier
times have some mark to distinguish their
occupancy? Very few spots in the world are more
impressive than is this same Roman Forum.
Here one walks, by means of a few modern
wooden steps, out of the End of the Nine
teenth Century into a space dating back to
a period when there were no centuries at
all, as we count them ; to a period which
was old before the Middle Ages were born.
And in the Forum, even more strongly than
at the Pyramids themselves, is one forced to
acknowledge that art is short, and that time
is fleeting.
The villa and the gardens of Sallust, a

literary gentleman not unknown to the stu
dents of the dead languages in the high-
schools of most living countries, Professor
Middleton placed in the Barberini Villa gar
dens, in the valley between the Quirinal
and the Pincian Hills. It was probably de
stroyed, he said, in the fire of 410, but he
traced certain portions of it which are still
remaining; and he described a nobly de
signed hall once lined with rich marble, and
decorated with statues, handsome staircases,
and the like. Its site is gradually being
covered with the brand-new buildings which
are fast making this part of Rome as mod
ern as is modern New York or modern Paris.
It is approached by horse-cars, it is lighted
by electricity, and it is surrounded by ho
tels, which look like the Fifth Avenue and
the Continental, and are quite as comforta
ble and quite as expensive as are these fa
miliar hostelries of modern times.
Virgil is said to have lived on the Esqui
line Hill, near the gardens of Msecenas ; and
Horace is known to have been a constant
guest in the villa of Maecenas, which he

13
has frequently described. Signor Lanciani
points out the very interesting fact that
Horace bought his books of the dealers in
ancient and modern literature who did busi
ness in the Argiletum, a quarter situated be
tween the Roman Forum and the Suburra,
and corresponding to the Paternoster Row or
the Nassau Street of modern literary towns.
The authorities agree that Maecenas, whose
hospitality has become proverbial, enter
tained the poets of the Augustan Age in a
house which stood upon the Esquiline Hill,
where the Baths of Titus were afterwards
placed ; Mr. Forbes adding the interesting
fact that the amiable and harmonic Nero
saw the burning of Rome, to the slow music
of his own violin, from a tower of this villa.
Pliny is supposed to have lived on the
summit of the Vicus Cyprius, probably on
the Via S. Maria Maggiore, in a little house
previously occupied by another poet, one
Pedo Albinovanus. The exact site of this
house is not known now, and the majority
of the authorities do not mention it at all.
Petrarch is said to have been a guest of

14
the head of the Colonna family during at
least one of his visits to Rome ; but as the
present palace bearing the Colonna name is
a century later than the time of Petrarch,
the poet naturally could not have known it.
It stands not far from the site of the ancient
fortress which the earlier Colonnas occupied,
and perhaps Petrarch went from this fortress,
in 1 341, to receive the laurel crown in the
great Senate Hall on the Capitol Hill. He
had much to say about Rome and about
what seemed to him its decadence. He
found here neither repose nor content ; civil
and foreign wars were desolating the land ;
houses were sinking; walls were falling to
the ground ; temples and shrines were yield
ing to decay; laws were trampled under
foot; justice was a prey to violence; and
the unhappy people sighed and groaned ; all
because Pope Urban V. was at Avignon, and
there were no good Humbert and charming
Margaret, with their strong common-sense
and their kindliness of heart, to make Rome
what it is to-day, a city of peace and of out
ward prosperity, wisely and justly governed,

15
and occupied by a people happy and well
pleased with themselves and with their
rulers. Luther came to Rome when he was
twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age,
and he remained here but two short weeks.
No man ever hated Rome as Luther hated
it, not for itself, but for its influences ; and
during the rest of his life he wrote and spoke
of Rome in the strongest terms of disgust and
condemnation. Rome thoroughly weaned
him from Rome, and made him the Pope of
the^ Heretics^ of his time. And out of Rome
he carried nothing that was comforting, ex
cept the feeling that if he had not had his
fortnight in Rome he never would have be
lieved that Rome and the Romans could be
half so bad as he was now convinced they
were. His thoughts and reflections upon
the Eternal City, therefore, can hardly be
recommended as sympathetic reading-matter
to the enthusiastic pilgrims of the present
time. Luther while here was an inhabitant of
the Augustine Convent, adjoining the church

i6
of S. Maria del Popolo ; and he is said to
have occupied the rooms which are now the
offices of the Director of the Parks and
Gardens of Rome. They are, of course, en
tirely changed, in furniture and in appear
ance, since Luther's day.
Mr. Hare, who quotes so happily always,
quotes the author of The Schonberg-Cotta
Chronicles as describing how Luther, on his
knees, as is the invariable rule, climbed, pain
fully, up the Holy Staircase, or the " Scala
Santa "; " when he suddenly stood erect,
lifted his face heavenward, and in another
instant turned and walked slowly and de
liberately down again." This was a way of
Luther's throughout life ; and if the story be
true — it seems to be founded on fact — Lu
ther's are the only feet which have touched
those holy steps since the days of Pontius
Pilate ; when, says tradition, they were trod
— in Pilate's house at Jerusalem — by the
sacred feet of the Messiah Himself. They
are now covered with boards, beneath which,
however, the original marble — said to be
Italian marble — is still visible; and at all

17
hours of the day, and on every day of the
week, pilgrims of all ages, of both sexes, and
of every condition of life, babies and aged per
sons, beggars and princes, side by side, may
be seen toiling painfully on their knees from
the bottom to the top, saying a prayer on
every one of the twenty-eight steps. Con
cerning the divine association of these steps
tradition only can be relied upon, but mil
lions of earnest Christians, Luther among
them, have made their ascent during the
hundreds of years in which they have been
where they are ; and they are of great inter
est now, for Luther's sake, if for no other.
The register of the Albergo dell' Orso, if
that once famous Bear Hotel ever had a
register, would be not only of enormous
value, as a collection of autographs, but of
great help to the literary pilgrim in Rome
to-day. The inn stood for centuries on the
same spot, in the Via dell' Orso; it was al
ways in the hotel business, central, command
ing, fashionable, and comfortable, as the ad
vertisements would say ; and, in the height
of its glory and prosperity, it entertained

i8
guests of the greatest distinction in all
walks of life, and from all parts of the globe.
Montaigne slept under its roof, and it is
even claimed for it that Dante made it his
home when he came — if he ever did come —
as the Ambassador of Florence to the Pope
of Rome, at the beginning of the Fourteenth
Century; although this is mere conjecture.
The building condemned to demolition still
stood, in its shabby old age, frequented by
peasants, when I last saw it ; but it was en
tirely unnoticed by the hundreds of thou
sands of tourists who passed it on their way
to and from St. Peter's. Its massive vaults
and fine old columns were once the delight
of the artists. And Lord Herbert of Cher-
bury mentioned it, fondly, in more than one
of his letters.
Montaigne kept a journal of his advent
ures in, and his impressions of, Rome during
his stay here in the winter of 1580-81. He
regretted that nothing was left of ancient
Rome but the sky above it and the outline
of its form ; but he was delighted with its
climate and its society; and he confessed

ALBERGO DELL ORSO

19
that he had never breathed air more tem
perate or better suited to his constitution.
This latter, it may be remarked, could not
have been written truthfully during many
of the winter months of the last few years.
Montaigne arrived in Rome on the 30th
November, 1580, and went to the Bear,
where he stayed that day and the next, but
on the 2d December he hired apartments at
the house of a Spaniard opposite the church
of S. Lucia della Tinta, where he was pro
vided with three handsome bedrooms, a
dining-room, a closet, stable, and kitchen, for
twenty crowns a month, the landlord includ
ing in that sum a cook and fire for the
kitchen. He had an audience with the Pope,
witnessed the execution of Catena, a famous
robber and captain of banditti, which he called
" a spectacle," and he found the winter nearly
as cold as that of Gascony. His account of
one of the many sights he saw is worth
quoting in full. " On Easter Eve," he said,
" I went to see, at S. John Lateran, the
heads of S. Paul and S. Peter, which are ex
hibited there on that day. The heads are

entire, with the hair, flesh, color, and beard
as if they still lived. S. Peter has a long
face, with a brilliant complexion approaching
the sanguine, with a gray picked beard, and
a papal mitre on his head. S. Paul is of a
dark complexion, with a broader and fuller
face, a large head, and a thick gray beard."
Tasso died, and was buried, in 1595, in the
monastery of S. Onofrio, on the side of the
Janiculum, a hill rising above the right bank
of the Tiber, where he sought refuge and
rest and the laurel crown. Refuge and rest
he found ; but the crown was not placed
upon his brow until his life had ebbed away.
His room, containing his relics, and a mask,
in wax, of his dead face, suffered so much
from the great powder explosion which
shook all Rome a few years ago that it has
been closed by order of the government, has
been sealed with the seals of the city, and is
no longer shown to the public. Tasso was
originally buried on the left side of the con
vent church, under an altar-tomb containing
his painted portrait and a Latin inscription,
which still remain. But, in 1857, ms bones

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Mi, -

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it-- a»

TASSO S GARDEN

were removed to an adjoining chapel, where,
under a more magnificent tomb, ornamented
by a marble statue, they now lie.
In the convent garden still stands a son
of " Tasso's Oak," the tree which the poet
himself planted there having ended its long
life in a disastrous gale some half-century
ago. In this beautiful garden Tasso was
fond of sitting, when the weather and his
feeble health permitted, with a beautiful
vista of old Rome at his feet, and with the
Alban and the Sabine hills beyond. The
monks are still very proud of their associa
tion with the great Italian; and the bare
footed, bareheaded brother who took us
through the church one bright December
day suggested so strongly, in personal ap
pearance and in voice, Mr. Francis Wilson,
the comedian, that we felt as if we were
assisting at the representation of a new
drama, in which the well-known actor was,
for the first time, playing a serious part, and
playing it with rare skill and tender, tragic
feeling. Galileo was tried in the Convent of S. Ma-

ria sopra Minerva here, in the Piazza della
Minerva, a Christian church erected in the
Thirteenth Century upon the ruins of a tem
ple to the heathen goddess whose name,
in part, it bears. He was conveyed to
Rome from Florence in the depths of a
heavy winter — and winter between Florence
and Rome can be heavy enough, when it is
so determined — and he was, probably, tort
ured for persisting in the statement that the
world goes round. That it has gone round
far enough to realize that Galileo was right
is now universally acknowledged.
Milton, after leaving Galileo in Florence,
spent some time in Rome in the autumn of
1 638, " detained here by the antiquity and an
cient renown of the city." Unfortunately he
left no record of his impressions here, or of
what he did or saw. He is perhaps the only
Man of Letters who ever visited the Eternal
City without telling, in prose, to the world
what he thought about it; and his pictures
of Rome written in Paradise Regained might
have been the work ofa man who had never
seen Rome at all. George S. Hillard said

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SANTA MARIA SOPRA MINERVA

23
that Milton " was received by Cardinal Bar
berini in an unpretending house with many
green blinds, in the Via Quattro Fontane, at
the corner made by the street which leads
from the Quirinal Palace to the Porta Pia,"
and that there he saw and heard Leonora
Baroni, who was the Patti of her day, and
who pleased him so greatly by her vocal and
personal charms that he indited to her eye
brows no less than three Latin epigrams.
" I must not forget," wrote Hawthorne, in
1858, "that on our way from the Barberini
Palace we stopped an instant to look at the
house at the corner of the Street of the
Four Fountains where Milton was a guest
while in Rome. He seems quite a man of
our own day, seen so nearly at the hither
extremity of the vista through which we
look back. The house (it was then occu
pied by the Cardinal Barberini) looks as if
it might have been built in the present
century." There is a tradition that Milton, despite
his advanced Puritanism, was entertained
sumptuously by the monks in the English

24
College at Rome on the 31st October,
1638. John Evelyn wrote in his Diary: " I came
to Rome on the 4th November, 1644, about
five at night; and being perplexed for a
convenient lodging, wandered up and down
on horseback, till at last one conducted us
to Monsieur Petit's, a Frenchman, near the
Piazza Spagnola [sic]. Here I alighted, and
having bargained with my host for twenty
crowns a month, I caused a good fire to be
made in my chamber, and went to bed be
ing so very wet. The next morning (for I
was determined to spend no time idly here)
I got acquainted with several persons who
have long lived in Rome. ... In the first
place, our sights-man (for so they name cer
tain persons here who get their living by
leading strangers about to see the city) went
to the Palace Farnese," etc., etc. And so
saw Evelyn all the sights in the true tourist's
way, his sights-man carrying him to look at
everything which we who have come after
him, for two centuries and a half, have con
scientiously " done."

25
He left Rome for a tour through the
neighboring country, and returned on the
13th February, 1645. On the 18th May he
wrote, " Having taken leave of our friends
at Rome, where I had sojourned now about
seven months, autumn, winter, and spring, I
took coach with two courteous Italian gentle
men." There is no room to record here his
feelings or impressions. But to Evelyn, as
to all the rest of us, since Rome was, Rome
was — Rome !
Gray, who was in Rome in 1739-40, con
fessed that the magnificence of the city far
exceeded his expectation of it. He entered
by the gate of the Piazza del Popolo, and
spoke with enthusiasm of the views in every
street or square, which he declared the most
picturesque and noble ever imagined. He
was the companion of Horace Walpole,
but neither of them gave any of the particu
lars of his visit, except that Walpole wrote :
" How I like the inanimate part of Rome you
will soon perceive at my arrival in England.
I am far gone in medals, lamps, idols, prints,
and all the small commodities to the pur-

26
chase of which I can attain. I would buy
the Colosseum if I could."
Smollett lived in the Piazza di Spagna in
1765, where for a decent first floor, and for
two bedrooms on the second floor, he paid
no more than one scudo per diem.
During Goethe's visit to Rome in 1786 he
lived in an apartment in the long house num
bered 1 5 to 20 Via del Corso, a few doors from
the Piazza del Popolo end of that thorough
fare, and on the western side of the way.
The entrance is at No. 18 Via del Corso,
and the tablet commemorating Goethejs oc
cupancy is under the second-story window of
No. 20. Of his experiences here he wrote
that he was at last living in serenity and in
peace ; his acquired habit of seeing and in
terpreting all things as they are, his fidelity
in keeping the eye light, his complete re
nunciation of all pretension standing him in
good stead, according to his own statement,
and making him tranquilly and deeply happy.
He certainly saw all things that Rome had
to show him, in the way of palaces and ruins,
gardens and wastes, triumphal arches, col-

27
umns, and cathedrals, and he interpreted
them all in his own way. No doubt he kept
his eye light, and he unquestionably re
nounced all pretension, by what he called
" an odd and perhaps whimsical half-incog
nito," which seems to have deceived nobody
but himself, and to have had no effect what
ever upon anybody. His self-imposed title
was " The-man-who-lives-across-the-way-from-
the-Rondinini-Palace "; and as such he fan
cied that he had managed to escape the end
less inconvenience of being obliged to give
an account of himself and of his wonderful
performances. What the Romans thought
of him then — he was only thirty-seven years
of age — and of his Sorrows of Young Werther,
his complete renunciation of all pretension,
alas! will never permit us to know.
Hillard said, and very prettily, that
" Goethe painted Rome while Chateaubriand
set it to music"; and he translated Chateau
briand's "sonata" on "Rome by Moon
light," which is well worth quoting here :
"Rome is asleep in the midst of her ruins.
This star of the night, this orb which is sup-

28
posed to be extinguished and unpeopled,
moves through her pale solitudes, above the
solitude of Rome. She shines upon the
streets without inhabitants, upon enclosed
spaces, open squares, and gardens in which
no one walks, upon monasteries where the
voices of monks are no longer heard, upon
cloisters which are as deserted as the arches
of the Colosseum." Read this by the light
of the moon in Rome, and it will soothe
one's breast, no matter how savage it may
be against the beggary and wretchedness
and extortions of some of the persons who
dwell in Rome to-night.
Bonaparte sent Chateaubriand to Rome
as Secretary of Legation in 1803, and he
lived, no doubt, in the Palace of Cardinal
Fesch, the French Ambassador.
Those of us who have wept over the woes
of Virginius as Sheridan Knowles put them
into blank verse, and as Forrest and McCul-
lough made them seem so real to us on the
mimic stage, will feel a certain sensation of
interest in standing opposite the shrine of
Venus, at the corner of the Vicus Tuscus

2g
and the Via Sacra, where stood the butcher's
stall from which came the knife that took
Virginia's life and saved her honor. Dr.
Forbes says that " facing up the Vicus Tus
cus is some brickwork — remains of a line of
shops that faced towards the Temple of
Caesar." The end shop alone was saved
when the excavations were recently made,
and on its site the butcher sold his meat
and kept his cleavers.
Tradition says, by-the-way, but only tra
dition and no one else, that Virginia was
buried on Mons Sacer, a couple of miles be
yond the Porta Pia; and there still exists
there a tomb which is said to be hers. Ma
caulay, in verse, has told the story of her fu
neral, and Dionysius gave a long account of
its magnificence and pomp, and ofthe crowds
of citizens who attended it ; but it is not
positively known now where —
" They brought a bier, and hung it with many a
cypress crown ;
And gently they uplifted her, and gently laid her
down."
Speaking of Macaulay, it may not be amiss

30
to say that the Bridge which Horatius kept
so well in the brave days of old was the Sub-
lician Bridge, a little below the spot where
the Ponte Rotto now spans the Tiber. It is
no longer standing, although certain of its
wooden piers can be distinguished when the
tide of the Tiber is unusually low.
"I then went down the river," wrote Ma
caulay himself, in his Journal, 16th Novem
ber, 1838, "to the spot where the old Pons
Sublicius stood, and looked about to see
how my ' Horatius ' agreed with the topog
raphy. Pretty well: but his house must
be on Mount Palatine, for he would never
see Mount Ccelius from the spot where he
fought." Macaulay does not say where was
his own house while he stayed in Rome.
Corinne was, unquestionably, the result of
Madame de Stael's visit to Italy in 1804, and
the chapters of it which are descriptive of
Rome, as she saw it, should not be overlooked
by those who want to see Rome through all
sorts and conditions of eyes.
Rogers wrote, in 18 14: " We dwell among
the clouds and look down on the Seven Hills

3i
of Rome. We are in the Rondinini Palace,
distinguished for the possession of the cele
brated mask of the Medusa, and from its
windows we command a little world." The
Rondinini Palace is now numbered 518 Via
del Corso, and is nearly opposite the one
time lodging- place of Goethe; but the
"Rondinini Medusa" has been removed to
Munich. Rogers records some of his social experi
ences during his first visit here ; he attended
concerts at Lucian Bonaparte's palace, dined
at Lord Holland's, visited Canova and Thor-
waldsen, and had an audience with the Pope.
He lived for a time in the Via Vittoria, close
to the Via S. Maria de' Fiori ; but in the
later years of his life he occupied while in
Rome a house in the Via Magenta, near the
Piazza dell' Indipendenza.
Byron seems to have spent but little more
than a fortnight in Rome, in May, 1817.
" Of Rome," he wrote to Moore, " I say
nothing. It is quite indescribable. ... I
have been on horseback most of the day all
days since my arrival. ... I have seen the

32
Pope alive, and a cardinal dead — both of
whom looked very well indeed." And that
is all. He was too eager to return to the
Venice of his affections and evil doings to
remain longer here. Byron lodged in the
three-story double house, now numbered 84
and 85 Piazza di Spagna, on the corner of
the Via Carrozza. His rooms were on an
upper floor, and his windows looked out upon
the Piazza towards the houses of Keats and
Shelley, almost directly opposite. His last
night in Rome was spent, it is said, in the
Villa Mills, on the Palatine, now a convent
of French nuns.
It is almost as difficult to-day, even at this
comparatively short period of intervening
time, to discover the Roman habitations of
the Literary Men and Women of the present
century as it is to identify the homes and
the haunts of the men of the past. The
memorial tablets, compared with those of
Florence, are very few; and in biographies
and autobiographies, in published Letters
and Journals, very rarely are definite ad
dresses given. Even the older residents of

33
Rome who remember Rogers and Haw
thorne, Longfellow and Thackeray, here, do
not remember where they lived. Miss Harriet
Hosmer, most cheerful and entertaining of
companions, most faithful of friends, forgets
nothing, however; and to her kindly interest
in my work, and to her affectionate regard
for many of the men to whom it relates, I
owe much of the valuable information I am
able to present.
At No. 26 jPiazza di Spagna, on the south
ern side of the famous steps leading up to the
terrace of the Church of S. Trinita de' Monti,
stands one of the most familiar of the Liter
ary Landmarks of Rome. Immediately over
the steps is a tablet stating, in Italian and *
in English, that in this house, on the 24th
February, 1821, and at the age of twenty-
six, died the young British poet John Keats.
His rooms were directly below the tablet,
and the modest building is situated in the
very centre of what is called " The Strangers'
Quarter" of Rome. The famous Piazza is
near all the banks and the circulating libra
ries, it contains many of the popular hotels,

34
and it is a scene of unending life, bustle, and
activity. The army of Italy, blowing its
own trumpet, passes and repasses almost
every hour of the day ; and at one end of the
square rises the tall column erected in honor
of the Establishment of the Immaculate
Conception of the Virgin, with its colossal
statue of the Holy Mother looking benignly
down upon it all. Here one sees, among
the people, a very curious commingling of
past and of present, of the wildly picturesque
and of the ugly commonplace; venders of
brilliant flowers ; priests and beggars ; tweed-
suited tourists ; sheepskin-coated peasants ;
professional models, waiting to be hired, and
arrayed in those fantastic colors which the
painters of Rome represent so often ; and pro
fessional cab-drivers and map-sellers dressed
in garments which no artist would ever care
to paint. Everything is delightfully strange
and curiously familiar ; and one instinctively
feels, as Dickens felt, when he first arrived
in Rome, that the models are all personal
acquaintances whom he has met scores of
times before, until he realizes that he has

THE IIS ONE WHOSE Ml

WAS WRIT IN WATER"

KEATS S GRAVE

35
seen their lineaments and their habiliments in
every picture of Rome that was ever public
ly exhibited in England or America. The
models are as much a part of Rome as is St.
Peter's or the Colosseum, and they are pre
cisely what one expects them to be. The
Pope's Guards, on the other side of the river,
are, however, a bitter disappointment when
seen in the winter months. The Papal au
thorities have covered the Fifteenth-Century
Michael -Angelesque, red-and-yellow legs of
their uniformed defenders with long, blue,
modern American army sack-overcoats ; and
they appear now, to the untrained eye, as
absurd as would seem the Jack of Clubs in
an ulster !
The sad and harrowing story of Keats's
last hours in Rome need not be repeated
here. His friend Joseph Severn has told it
all. Early in the month of October, 1820,
Severn and Keats arrived together in Rome.
Dr. Clark, afterwards Sir James Clark, found
apartments for them in the building de
scribed above. " This," wrote Severn, " had
the great advantage not only of good situa-

36
tion, but of being opposite to the physician's
own house, which, indeed, was a prearrange-
ment, so that Dr. Clark might have his
patient near at all hours. We both found
accommodations in the same house, and
Keats's bedroom was the one which looked
over the steps on the side of the house."
On the 14th February, 1821, Severn wrote
to Mrs. Brawne : " Little or no change has
taken place in Keats since the commence
ment of this, except this beautiful one that
his mind is growing to great quietness and
peace; — I find this change has its rise from
the increasing weakness of his body, but it
seems like a delightful sleep to me. . . .
Among the many things that he has re
quested of me to-night, this is the principal,
that on his grave shall be this :
' Here lies one whose name was writ in water.' "
" At times during his last days," said
Severn elsewhere, "he made me go to see
the place where he was to be buried, and he
expressed pleasure at my description of the
locality of the Pyramid of Caius Cestius,

37
about the grass and the many flowers, partic
ularly the innumerable violets; also about
the flock of goats and sheep and a young
shepherd — all these intensely interested him.
Violets were his favorite flowers, and he
joyed to hear how they overspread the
graves. He assured me that ' he had al
ready seemed to feel the flowers growing
over him.' " " And there they do grow,"
added Lord Houghton many months after
wards, "even all the winter long — violets
and daisies mingling with the fresh herbage,
and, in the words of Shelley, 'making one
in love with death to think that one should
be buried in so sweet a place.' "
Sixty-one years after the death of Keats,
Severn himself was laid to rest by the side
of the friend he had loved so well and had
never forgotten.
Keats lies in the old portion of the Prot
estant Cemetery, very near the entrance.
The monument, bearing a medallion portrait
of him, has this inscription : " This grave
contains all that was mortal of a young
English poet who, on his death-bed, in the

38
bitterness of his heart at the malicious power
of his enemies, desired these words to be en
graved upon his tombstone :
' Here lies one whose name was writ in water.' "
There are more numbers than there are
houses in Rome, and almost as many tablets.
Many houses have two numbers, some houses
have three, and one particular house in the
Via del Tritone is distinguished by no less
than six; tablets being set up in some in
stances to mark ownership of the property,
fire-insurance, business connections, divine
interposition, and heroic occupancy, all over
the same front door. This, naturally, is con
fusing. Shelley's house in the Piazza di
Spagna has two numbers — 25, which shows
that it is next door to 24, and 366 in small
blue figures ; the reason for, or the meaning
of, the latter being unknown to any person
in the neighborhood, although they are gen
erally supposed to have something to do
with the gas or the water. The building
has three tablets showing that fire policies
are placed upon it in as many companies,

39
and innumerable commercial signs ; but there
is nothing to explain that it was once the
house of Shelley, as Mr. Forbes declares it
to have been. It stands north of the house
of Keats, with which it is almost identical
in architecture, and on the other side of the
famous steps.
Shelley wrote portions of The Cenci and
of Prometheus Unbound in the Palazzo Ve-
rospi, Nos. 373, 374 Via del Corso. It is a
great building in the busiest part of that
thoroughfare — one of the Great Streets of
the World — and a tablet recording Shelley's
association with it was placed upon its front
in the summer of 1893.
Shelley obtained these lodgings in the Pa
lazzo Verospi in February, 1819, and there,
in June, William Shelley, his son, died. The
child was laid in the Protestant Cemetery,
but exactly where is unknown. The tomb
stone erected to his memory was placed, in
the absence of his parents, over the wrong
grave. Shelley's body was burned where it was
found. His ashes were brought to Rome,

40
but his heart, which the fire did not con
sume, given by Edward John Trelawney to
Leigh Hunt, and by him surrendered to Mrs.
Shelley, was carried with her to England, and
is said to be still preserved, with other sa
cred relics of the poet and his wife, in Bos-
combe Manor, Bournemouth.
The tomb of Shelley is in the Protestant
Cemetery, in the upper or eastern part of
the new ground. It bears the name, the
date of his birth and death, and the inscrip
tion " Cor Cordium," with the lines from The
Tempest :
" Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea change
Into something rich and strange.''
"A spot that touched me deeply," wrote
George Eliot, in i860, "was Shelley's grave.
The English Cemetery in which he lies is
the most attractive burial-place I have ever
seen. It lies against the Old City walls close
to the Porta S. Paolo, and is one of the quiet
est spots of Old Rome. And there, under
the shadow of the old walls on one side and

(MJMiM 1 .'.. 1 1 i 1 1 Si Mil, ?

SHELLEY S GRAVE

41
cypresses on the other, lies the Cor Cordium^
forever at rest from the unloving cavillers of
this world, whether or not he may have en*
tered on other purifying struggles in some
world unseen by us. The grave of Keats
lies far off from Shelley's, unshaded by wall
or tree. It is painful to look upon, because
of the inscription on the stone, which makes
him still seem to speak in bitterness from
his tomb."
Not far from Shelley's grave, in this Prot
estant Cemetery, is that of Constance Feni-
more Woolson, who died in Venice in Janu
ary, 1894, and was buried there at her own
request. She was preceded, in 1893, by John Ad-
dington Symonds, whose body was carried
there by the hands of loving friends, one
warm May morning, from the Hotel Italia,
where he had passed away in peace.
And she was followed, in the early autumn
of 1895, by William Wetmore Story, artist in
marble as well as in words, who lies with his
wife by the side of the ashes of Shelley and
of Symonds. He lived for many years in the

42
Barberini Palace, and he was one of the most
important and familiar figures in that quar
ter of the world of art and letters which lies
between the Tiber and the Esquiline Hill.
His monument to Mrs. Story was the sculp
tor's last and perhaps his greatest work, cer
tainly the work in which was put the most
of his heart.
Longfellow's first visit to Rome was in
the winter of 1828. In 1869, almost half a
century later, he wrote : " Here we are at a
new hotel built in the gardens of Sallust's
villa, on a spur of the Quirinal, back of the
Barberini Palace. In the rear the windows
look across the Campagna to the Alban Hills.
In front we have all Rome, unrolled like a
panorama and crowned by St. Peter's. ... I
look out of the window this gray, rainy day
[30th January] and see the streets all mud,
and the roofs all green mould, and the mist
lying like a pall over the lower town. And
Rome seems to me like King Lear, stagger
ing in the storm and crowned with weeds.
But this is altogether too fine writing !" The
house which he thus described was the Ho-

'^r^1

¦ ¦¦V

VS 1:

, ;

WiV'-'uAjJ*."
: ;J
%
W^m
jsk
P
- it
'
WW
.ys
V, jSPjgP'
'''
:s
¦.IV iV <
'V*-
. '-¦ ^&-
CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON'S GRAVE
43
tel Costanzo, now a German Jesuit College,
extending from No. 5 to No. 10 Via S. Nicola
da Tolentino.
"At Rome," said Sir William Gell, "Sir
Walter [Scott] found an apartment provided
for him in the Casa Bernini. . . . Soon after
his arrival I took him to St. Peter's, which
he had resolved to visit that he might see
the tomb of the last of the Stuarts." A few
days later Scott went to the Villa Muti at
Frascati, which once belonged to the Cardi
nal of York. He was too feeble to see much
or to do much in Rome. " I walk with pain,"
he said, "and what we see whilst suffering
makes little impression on us." In his Jour
nal he wrote, on the 16th April, 1832 : "We
entered Rome by a gate renovated by one
of the old Pontiffs, but which I forget, and
so paraded the streets by moonlight to dis
cover, if possible, some appearance of the
learned Sir William Gell or the pretty Mrs.
Ashley. At length we found our old servant,
who guided us to the lodging taken by Sir
William Gell, where all was comfortable, a
good fire included, which our fatigue and

44
the chilliness of the night required. We
dispersed as soon as we had taken some
food, wine, and water.
" We slept reasonably, but on the next
morning — " Here the Journal stops ab
ruptly, and forever. Lockhart believed
these to have been the last words Scott
ever penned. And they were penned in
Rome !
A tablet marks the house of Scott, which
stands in the narrow little Via di Mercede,
not far from the General Post-Office.
James Fenimore Cooper first entered
Rome " by the Gate of St. John " in the
spring of 1838. His earliest stopping-place
was at the Hotel de Paris, in the Via S. Ni
cola da Tolentino, but in a short time he
occupied lodgings in the Via di Ripetta.
He made no notes of Rome which are
worthy of record. He saw everything that
was to be seen, he enjoyed everything he
saw, but he left Rome with little regret.
Hans Christian Andersen made repeated
visits to Rome. The first was in 1833, when
he saw the second funeral of Raphael, and

45
formed an acquaintance with Thorwaldsen.
He was here again in 1841, when his birthday
was celebrated, and when he wrote, in The
Story of My Life : " Frau von Goethe, who
was in Rome, and who chanced to be living
in the very house where I brought my ' Im-
provisatore ' into the world, and made him
spend his first years of childhood, sent me
from thence a large, true Roman bouquet, a
fragrant mosaic." In The Lmprovisatore he
said : " Whoever has been in Rome is well
acquainted with the Piazza Barberini, in the
great square, with the beautiful fountain
where the Tritons empty the spouting conch-
shell, from which the water springs upwards
many feet. Whoever has not been there
knows it, at all events, from the copper-plate
engravings; only it is a pity that in these
the house at the corner of the Via Felice is
not given — that tall corner house, where the
water pours through three pipes out of the
wall into the stone basin. That house has
a peculiar interest for me; for it was there
that I [' The lmprovisatore '] was born."
This house, Nos. 1 and 2 Piazza Barberini,

46
on the northeastern corner of the square
and the Via Sistina — once Via Felice — is
still pointed out by a few old friends, who
remember Andersen as living in it himself.
He is said to have occupied rooms on the
second story ; and his windows, on the floor
above the little balcony, looked out upon the
Fountain of the Triton and his attending
dolphins. The beautiful old fountain on the
side of this house is now a thing of the past.
From its three pipes flowed, free to all, in
Andersen's time, and long before, the deli
cious Acqua Felice.
In 1861 Andersen wrote: "In the old
Cafe Grsece I got apartments for myself and
my young travelling companion, and now we
went out into the great city, so familiar and
so homelike." The Caffe Greco is at No.
86 Via Condotti.
In What I Remember, Thomas Adolphus
Trollope wrote: "In the autumn of 1847
my mother and I went to pass the winter in
Rome. Our apartment was in a small pa-
lazzo in that part of the Via Quattro Fon
tane which is now situated between the Via

THE HOUSE OF ANDERSEN, PIAZZA BARBERINI

47
Nazionale and the church of S. Maria Mag
giore, to the left of one going towards the
latter. ... It was a very comfortable apart
ment, roomy, sunny, and quiet. It exists
still [1888], though somewhat modernized
in outward appearance, and is, I think, the
second after one, going towards S. Maria
Maggiore, has crossed the new Via Na
zionale." Trollope finally settled in Rome in 1873,
and remained here for some fourteen years ;
living first in the Via Rosella, opposite the
Scotch College; then at No. 9 Via Susanna;
and later in the Via Nazionale, in a house
originally numbered 367, and afterwards 243.
This last house remains unchanged.
In the late winter of 1847 Mrs. Jameson
lodged at No. 53 Piazza di Spagna. Her
niece, and companion, wrote: "Our rooms
were over Spithover's shop, with little bal
conied windows looking out over all the
amusing scenes in the Piazza, the sparkling
of the great fountain, and the picturesque
figures, models, and contadini that group
themselves upon the Spanish Steps. . . . Her

43
life in Rome was a very pleasant one while
undisturbed by all [domestic] agitations. As
she herself wrote, she went nowhere uncon
nected with her present labors [The Sacred
and Legendary Art], unless it were occasion
ally for a long drive, after the day's toil
might be considered as over, away into the
Campagna." In March, 1847, Mrs. Jameson
said: "I have very pleasant soir/es on Sun
day evenings, which are liked ; but my room
is so small that I cannot have above twenty
people, and I give them only tea." She
left Rome after Easter, not to return until
1857. We find her once more in Rome in 1859,
when she lived on the third floor of an an
cient four-storied house, No. 176 Via di
Ripetta, " close by the Tiber side of the
Palazzo Borghese." Here she met Gibson
the sculptor, the Storys, Miss Hosmer — who
pointed out her windows to tue present
writer — and the Hawthornes. She went to
Florence in the spring, and she never saw
Rome again. Hawthorne recorded, in his
Italian Note Books, that " Mrs. Jameson lived

49
on the first piano of an old palazzo on the
Via di Ripetta, nearly opposite the ferry-way
across the Tiber, and affording a pleasant
view of the yellow river and the green bank
and fields on the other side."
Mr. Norton prints none of the letters of
Lowell written during his visit to Italy in
1852, when he lost a little son in Rome ; but
in 1874 Lowell spent a fortnight with Mr.
and Mrs. Story in the Palazzo Barberini ;
and in 1881 he was at the Hotel Bristol.
"My windows," he said, "look out on one
side towards the Barberini, and on the other
towards the old Triton ; the weather is fine
as fine can be, and I do nothing with com
mendable assiduity — thawing myself out in
the sun like a winter fly. , . . The only cos
tumes left now are on the brazen-faced mod
els, and one sees below — what ? Those hate
ful boots with high heels in the midst of the
sole, on which they tottle about as on peg-
tops. When I was first here every peasant
woman wore sandals. I always hated those
eternal representations of women with dirty
towels on their heads, which express the

5°
highest aspiration and conviction of modern
art — but this is like the cloven hoof."
In January, 1854, Mrs. Browning wrote
from "43 Via di Bocca di Leone, 3d piano.
We have pleasant music at Mrs. Sartoris's
once or twice a week, and have Fanny
Kemble come in to talk to us, with the doors
shut, we three together. This is pleasant.
If anybody wants small-talk by handfuls, of
glittering dust swept out of salons, here's
Mr. Thackeray besides !" Later she wrote :
"We have met Lockhart, and my husband
sees a good deal of him. Robert went down
to the sea-side, on a day's excursion with
him and the Sartorises — and, I hear, found
favor in his sight. Said the critic, ' I like
Browning — he isn't jit alHike a damned liter
ary man !' That's a compliment, I believe !"
Mrs. Ritchie possesses a letter written by
Mrs. Browning to Thackeray dated " 28 Via
del Tritone, Rome, 13th April," but unfort
unately without the year. In her Records
of Browning she writes : " In the winter of
1853-54 we [the Thackerays] lived in Rome,
in the Via del Croce, and the Brownings

5i
lived in the Bocca di Leone, hard by. The
evenings our father dined away from home
our old donna would conduct us to our tran
quil dissipations, through the dark streets,
past the swinging lamps, up and down the
black stone staircases ; and very often we
spent an evening with Mrs. Browning in her
quiet room, while Mr. Browning was out
visiting some of the many friends who were
assembled in Rome that year."
The Via di Bocca di Leone is a narrow
street, and the rooms of the Brownings,
pointed out by Miss Hosmer, who knew
them there, had but little sun in the front,
although, no doubt, the rear was warmer
and more cheerful. Later they were at No.
113 — now No. 37 — Via del Tritone, as Miss
Hosmer remembers, in a house very much
changed since their occupancy of it. The
street has been re-numbered in a most con
fusing way ; and both the old and the new
numbers are still to be seen; the old are in
red figures ; the new are in figures cut into
the houses themselves.
A favorite stopping -place of Thackeray

52
was the Hotel Inghilterra, a hostelry still
standing, and unchanged, in the Via di Bocca
di Leone. And here he is said to have
written The Rose and the Ring, for Mr.
Story's little daughter, reading it to her,
chapter by chapter, as it was composed.
" At seven o'clock," said Hawthorne, 22d
May, 1858, " we went by invitation to take
tea with Miss Bremer. After much search,
and lumbering up two or three staircases in
vain, and at last going about in a strange
circuity, we found her in a small chamber of
a large old building situated a little way
from the brow of the Tarpeian Rock. It
was the tiniest and humblest domicile that
I have seen in Rome, just large enough to
hold her narrow bed, her tea-table, and a
table covered with books — photographs of
Roman ruins — and some pages written by
herself. I wonder whether she is poor.
Probably so ; for she told us that her ex
pense of living here is only five pauls a
day. . . . Meanwhile as the day declined
there had been the most beautiful view over
the Campagna from one of her windows;

53
and from the other, looking towards St.
Peter's, the broad gleam of a mildly glorious
sunset. ... In the garden beneath her
window, verging upon the Tarpeian Rock,
there was shrubbery and one large tree,
softening the brow of the famous precipice
down which the Old Romans used to fling
their traitors, or sometimes indeed their pa
triots." When Motley first came to Rome he
lived in the Palazzo Bernini, No. 151 Via del
Corso. Later and longer he lived on the
second floor of the Palazzo Zuccari, No. 64
Via Sistina. In 1858 he wrote to his mother:
" We are now in very comfortable lodgings
on the Corso, about opposite the Church of
S. Carlo, if you happen to remember it. We
are on the third floor. ... I have a good
room for my study, and I am hard at work.
I began my first volume about a fortnight
ago, and hope to have it done by April. . . .
I have to spread myself over a wide surface,
for after the death of William the Silent the
history of the province becomes, for a time,
swallowed up in the general current of Eu-

54
ropean history. I do not mean by that that
it loses its importance. On the contrary,
the Netherlands question becomes the great
question of history."
George Eliot and Lewes first saw Rome in
the spring of i860. According to her own
statement she lived at "the Hotel Inghil
terra in the Strada Babuino," which leads
directly from the Piazza del Popolo to the
Piazza di Spagna; but as the Hotel d'Ame-
rique was in this street, and the Hotel In
ghilterra in another part of the town, she
must have confused the names. The Ame-
rique was the building now numbered 78
and 79 Via del Babuino, and it is no longer a
hotel. Old friends of hers still remember
her at this house.
" Discontented with our little room at an
extravagant height of stairs and price," she
wrote, " we found, and took, lodgings the
next day in the Corso, opposite S. Carlo,
with a well-mannered Frenchman and his
little dark Italian wife — and so felt ourselves
settled for a month." "Yesterday" (3d
April), she wrote to Mrs. Congreve, "was

55
taken up with seeing ceremonies, or rather
waiting for them. I knelt down to receive
the Pope's blessing, remembering what Pius
VII. said to the soldier — that one would
never be the worse for the blessing of an old
man." Mr. J. W. Cross recorded in his Life of
George Eliot that he first met that lady in
May, 1869, at the Hotel Minerva here, where
Lewes had taken rooms. And he spoke of
" the low, deep, earnest musical tones of her
voice, of the fine brows with the abundant
auburn-brown hair framing them, of the long
head broadening at the back, of the gray-
blue eyes, constantly changing in expression,
but always with a very loving, almost depre
cating look at the lady with whom she was
speaking, of the finely formed, thin, transpar
ent hands, and a whole Wesen that seemed
in complete harmony with everything one
expected to find in the author of Romola."
The Hotel Minerva is No. 69 Piazza della
Minerva. " We spent three delightful winters in
Rome," said Locker-Lampson, " arriving at

56
the Piazza di Spagna, No. 31, on the 29th
December, 1861; at No. 103 Via de' Due
Macelli on the 17th December, 1862; and
lastly, at No. 43 Via di Bocca di Leone 2°
p° (I specify it all with amorous precision)
on the 17th November, 1866." But he spe
cified nothing of the life he lived here, ex
cept a list of the persons he rr.et, and the
fact that for a portion of the time he " filled
the high office of warden to the Episcopal
Church immediately outside the Porta del
Popolo." Lord Houghton lived at No. 8 Via S. Ba
silio, in a house later the residence of George
P. Marsh. Afterwards he was a guest at
the Hotel de Londres, in the Piazza di
Spagna. George P. Marsh dwelt at No. 8 Via S.
Basilio, on the floor above the ground-floor.
Later he lived in the Piazza dell' Esquilino,
in the house where are now displayed the
arms of the Argentine Republic; and during
the last few years of his residence in Rome
he had an apartment in the Palazzo Rospi
gliosi, on the Quirinal Hill, near the Via Na-

57
zionale. He was buried in the Protestant
Cemetery in 1882.
The only picture Dean Stanley gave of
his personal experiences in Rome is in a let
ter written in October, 1866, from 51 Piazza
di Spagna. " We have moved here," he
wrote, "from our hotel. The Gladstones
were so kindly urgent about it, and the ad
vantages of the situation so great, that we
determined to try the experiment, and it
completely answers. They are on the sec
ond, we on the third floor. The dining-
room is on the third floor, and we have hith
erto always dined together. This is the
only time when we necessarily meet ; but
very pleasant it is. He [Gladstone] is so
extremely enjoying his liberty." That the
gentle dean enjoyed his own liberty ex
tremely during his stay in Rome is evident
in everything he wrote about it to his friends
at home.
Mrs. Helen Hunt rested in the winter
of 1868-69, between her Bits of Travel, at
No. 155 Via Quattro Fontane — "just op-
opsite the Barberini, on the corner oppo-

58
site Miss Hosmer's house. Think of that!
Aren't we in luck?" She wrote to her
" Dear Souls " at home : " The rooms are
charming — a parlor on the southeast cor
ner, two windows ; a dining-room, two bed
rooms, and such a kitchen, resplendent with
copper." Louisa Alcott occupied, in the winter of
1870-71, an apartment on the northeastern
corner of the Via S. Nicola da Tolentino and
the Piazza Barberini; and it must have been
an awkward address to put on the visiting-
cards she had to leave, no doubt, as is the
Roman way, upon every person she wished
to have call upon her. It takes a month
or two in Rome to master the etiquette of
calls and of cards, and even then the stranger
is apt to leave the wrong card and to make
the wrong call. But this has nothing to do
with Miss Alcott. Her house, an old, tum
ble-down, two-and-a-half-storied edifice, was
taken to pieces, in self-defence, a few years
ago; and a fine, square, many -windowed,
modern building now occupies its site. In
November, 1870, she wrote in her Journal:

59
" In Rome ; and felt as if I had been there
before, and knew all about it. Always de
pressed with a sense of sin, dirt, and general
decay of all things. Not well ; so saw things
through blue glasses. . . . Our apartment in
the Piazza Barberini was warm and cozy;
and I thanked Heaven for it, as it rained for
two months, and my first view most of the
time was the poor Triton with an icicle on
his nose." The next year, still in Rome,
she wrote : " Began to write a new book,
Little Men, that John's death may not leave
A  and the dear little boys in want."
Miss Amelia B. Edwards once had rooms
in the house where lodged Miss Alcott.
On the 22d November, 1870, Mary How-
itt wrote to her daughter: "We are located
on the summit of one of the Seven Hills, at
a corner of four converging streets, each vis
ibly terminating by an historic monument."
Later she wrote : "We are located in charm
ing new quarters — in the Via di Porta Pin-
ciani." In 1871 they were in the Via Sisti
na, No. 55. "Looking up the street," she
said, " the Piazza of the Trinita de' Monti

6o
immediately opens before us, with the dis
tant heights of Monte Mario, where the sun
now sets and the evening skies are beautiful.
Just opposite to us is the old palace of some
Queen of Poland, a rather dingy -looking
place, with traces of grandeur about it. It
forms a division between the Via Sistina
and the Via Gregoriana, which unite in the
Piazza." Here William Howitt died in
1879. In May of the same year Mrs. Howitt
moved for a few weeks into apartments at
No. 86 Via Sistina. In 1887 she wrote from
No. 38 Via Gregoriana: " We are in what was
Miss Charlotte Cushman's Roman home."
And here she died in January of the next
year. She was buried in the Protestant
Cemetery by her husband's side.
Hawthorne has told the story of his life in
I Rome very thoroughly in his Italian Note
Books, which, if they were properly in
dexed, would be the best guides to Rome
( ever published. They should be read before
; one goes to Rome, while one is in Rome,
! and after one has left Rome ; and then they

6i
should be read again and again. And The
Marble Faun should receive the same close
and studious attention.
Two of Hawthorne's dwelling-places in
Rome are still remembered by some of his
old friends here ; and there is a pleasant tra
dition — unverified, however, by anything re
corded in his Journals or his Letters — that
he at one time occupied the rooms with the
balcony, on the northeastern corner of the
Via Sistina and the Piazza Barberini, directly
beneath what was once the home of Hans
Christian Andersen.
From " No. 37 Palazzo Larazani, Via di
Porta Pinciana, 24th January, 1858," he
wrote : " After a day or two we settled our
selves in a suite of ten rooms, comprehend
ing one flat, on what is called the second
piano of this house. The rooms thus far
have been very uncomfortable, it being im
possible to warm them by means of the
deep, old-fashioned, artificial fireplaces un
less we had- the great logs of a New England
forest to burn in them, so I have sat in my
corner by the fireside with more clothes on

62
than I ever wore before, and my thickest
great-coat over all."
The Hawthornes, having spent some time
in Florence, came back to Rome in October,
1858, and they lived, until they left Italy in
the month of May, 1859, at No. 68 Piazza
Poli. " We have the snuggest little suite of
apartments in Rome. Seven rooms, includ
ing an antechamber ; and though the stairs
are exceedingly narrow, there is really a
carpet on them — a civilized comfort of which
the proudest palaces in the Eternal City can
not boast. The stairs are very steep, how
ever, and I should not wonder if some of us
broke our noses on them. . . . Our windows
here look out on a small and rather quiet
piazza, with an immense palace on the left
hand, and a smaller yet statelier one on the
right ; and just round the corner of the
street leading out of our piazza is the Foun
tain of Trevi, of which I can hear the plash
in the evening, when other sounds are
hushed." The Piazza Poli house is no longer stand
ing. Its site is now occupied by what seems

63
to be the Sunday-school room, or office, of
the Methodist Church, Nos. 2 and 3 Via
Poli. The entire appearance of that par
ticular quarter of the town has been
changed. Here it was that The Marble Faun, that
famous romance which the English for some
unknown reason call Transformation, was
conceived; and Hawthorne's own identifica
tion of the Marble Faun itself will interest
many of its admirers.
In i860 he wrote to Henry Bright : " You
will not find any photograph or (so far as I
am aware) any engraving of the Faun of
Praxiteles. There are photographs, stereo
scopic and otherwise, of another Faun which
is almost identical with the hero of my ro
mance, although only an inferior repetition
of it. My Faun is in the Capitol ; the other |
in the Vatican. The genuine statue has
never been photographed, on account, I sup
pose, of its standing in a bad light. The
photographs of the Vatican Faun supply its
place very well, except as to the face, which
is very inferior."

64
Hawthorne, in his own inimitable way,
painted the picture of Hilda's Tower, in the
sixth chapter of the romance. " Connected
with this old tower," he said, "is a legend
which we cannot pause here to tell ; but for
centuries a lamp has been burning before the
Virgin's image, at noon, at midnight, and at
all hours of the twenty-four ; and must be
kept burning forever, as long as the tower
shall stand ; or else the tower itself, the
palace, and whatever estate belongs to it
shall pass from its hereditary possessor, in
accordance with an ancient vow, and become
the property of the Church."
The Church is not so powerful in Rome
as it was in 1859, when Hawthorne wrote,
but the lamp still burns, and the legend
which he could not pause to tell in The
Marble Faun he has told in his Note Books,
and it is well worth repeating here in full :
" Mr. [Cephas G.] Thompson took me into
the Via Portoghesi, and showed me an old
palace, about which rose — not a very cus
tomary feature of the architecture of Rome
— a tall, battlemented tower. At one angle

'if

I !

Hilda's tower

65
of the tower we saw a shrine of the Virgin,
with a lamp and all the appendages of those
numerous shrines which we see at the street
corners and in hundreds of places about the
city. Three or four centuries ago this palace
was inhabited by a nobleman who had an
only son and a large pet monkey, and one
day the monkey caught the infant up, and
clambered to this lofty turret, and sat there,
with him in his arms, grinning and chatter
ing like the devil himself. The father was
in despair, but was afraid to pursue the
monkey lest he should fling down the child
from the height of the tower and make his
escape. At last he vowed that if the boy
were safely restored to him he would build a
shrine at the summit of the tower, and cause
it to be kept as a sacred place forever. By-
and-by the monkey came down, and deposited
the child on the ground ; the father fulfilled
his vow, built the shrine, and made it obli
gatory on all future possessors of the place
to keep the lamp burning before it."
Hilda's Tower is beautiful in itself, and
well worth a visit for its own sake. It

66
stands, in its square and rugged solidity,
two stories above the large house of which it
forms a corner. A fine old projecting gate
way leads into a small court -yard, which,
when the present pilgrim last saw it, one
Christmas Eve, had never a dove, but was
occupied by dismal chickens and dismal
children, and ragged clothes hung out to
dry. It can be found in an out-of-the-way
corner of the Rome of to-day, in the short
little Via Portoghesi, west of_the_Corsq ;
and one wonders, as one goes towards it by
a most winding route from " The Strangers'
Quarter," or from the Quirinal Hill, how
Hilda or Hawthorne came upon it at all.
The little shrine to the Virgin and the lamp
which illumines it so faintly at night can
easily be seen from the street. The people
of its neighborhood who gaze upon it know,
and care, more about the legend of the
baby and the monkey than they do about
the story which Hawthorne so touchingly
told ; but it is one of the most precious of
the Literary Landmarks of Rome ; and it
seems particularly fitting that American and

67
English readers should say, in these pages,
" good-night " to Rome, by the light of the
lantern dimly burning on the summit of
Hilda's Tower.

INDEX OF PERSONS

Alcott, Louisa, 58-59.
Andersen, Hans Chris
tian, 44-46, 61.
Bremer, Frederika,
52-53-
Browning, Elizabeth Bar
rett, 50-51.
Browning, Robert, 50-51.
Byron, Lord, 31-32.
Byron, Lord, quoted, 8.
Cesar, Julius, 4, 5-1 1.
Chateaubriand, 27-28.
Cherbury, Lord Herbert
of, 18.
y Cicero, 4-5.
Cooper, James Fenimore,
44-
Cross, J. W., quoted, 55.
Cushman, Charlotte, 60.
Dante, 18.
Dickens, Charles, quot
ed, 34-35.
Dionysius, quoted, 29.
Edwards, Amelia B., 59.
"Eliot, George," 54-55.
" Eliot, George," quoted,
40-41.

Evans, Mary Anne, 54-55.
Evans, Mary Anne, quot
ed, 40-41.
Evelyn, John, 24-25.
Forbes, S. Russell,
quoted, 4, 6, 7, 1 3, 29, 39.
Galileo, 21-22.
" George Eliot," 54-55.
"George Eliot," quoted,
40-41.
Gladstone, William Ew-
art, 57.
Goethe, 26-27, 31. '
Gray, Thomas, 25.
Hare, Augustus J. C,
quoted, 4, 8, 16.
Hawthorne, Nathaniel,
48, 60-67.
Hawthorne, Nathaniel,
quoted, 9-10, 23, 48-
49- 52-53-
Herbert, Lord (of Cher
bury), 18.
Hillard, George S., quot
ed, 22-23, 27-28.
Horace, 12-13.
Hosmer, Harriet, 33, 48,
51,58.

70

Houghton, Lord, 56.
Houghton, Lord, quoted,
37-
Howitt, Mary, 59-60.
Howitt, William, 59-60.
Hunt, Helen, 57-58.
Jameson, Anna, 47-49.
* Keats, John, 32, 33-38,
39.41-
Kemble, Fanny, 50.
Knowles, James Sheri
dan, quoted, 28.
Lanciani, Rodolfo,
quoted, 4, 10, 13.
Lewes, George Henry,
54-55-
Locker - Lampson, Fred
erick, 55-56.
Lockhart, John Gibson,
44. 50.
Lockhart, John Gibson,
quoted, 44.
Longfellow, Henry Wads-
worth, 42-43.
Lowell, James Russell,
49-50.
Lucullus, 5.
Luther, Martin, 15-17.
Macaulay, Lord, 29-30.
Maecenas, 12, 13.
Marsh, George P., 56-57.
Middleton, J. Henry,
quoted, 4, 12.
Milton, John, 22-24,
Montaigne, 18-20.
Motley, John Lothrop,
53-54-

Pedo Albinovanus, 13.
Petrarch, 13-14.
Pliny, 13.
Ritchie, Anne Thack
eray, quoted, 50-51.
Rogers, Samuel, 30-31.
Sallust, 11-12.
Scott, Walter, 43-44. v
Severn, Joseph, 32, 37.
Severn, Joseph, quoted,
35-37-
Shelley, Percy Bysshe,
32, 38-41.
Shelley, Percy Bysshe,
quoted, 37.
Smollett, Tobias, 26.
Stael, Madame de, 30.
Stanley, Arthur Penrhyn,
57-
Story, William Wetmore,
41-42, 48, 49, 52.
Symonds, John Adding-
ton, 41.
Tasso, 20-21.
Thackeray, William
Makepeace, 50, 51-52.
Trollope, Frances M.,
46-47-
Trollope, Thomas Adol-
phus, 46-47.
Virgil, 12.
Walpole, Horace, 25-
26.
Wilson, Francis, 21.
Woolson, Constance Fen
imore, 41.

INDEX OF PLACES

Alban Hill, 21, 42.
Amerique, H&tel, 54.
Andrea, S., della Valle,
Church, 7.
Appian Way, 5.
Argiletum, 13.
Augustine Convent, 15-
16.
Babuino, Via, 54.
Barberini, Palazzo, 23, 42,
49, 58, 61.
Barberini, Piazza, 45, 49,
58, 59, 61.
Barberini, Villa, 12.
Basilio, S., Via, 56 bis.
Baths of Titus, 13.
Bear Hotel, 17-18, 19.
Bernini, Casa, 43-44.
Bernini, Palazzo, 53.
Bocca di Leone, Via di,
50-51, 52, 56.
Borghese, Palazzo, 48.
Bristol, Hotel, 49.
Cesar, Temple of, io,
29.
Caius Cestius, Pyramid
of, 36-37-
Campagna, 42, 52.
Capena, Porta, 5.

Capitol, 63.
Capitol Hill, 14.
Capo di Ferro, Piazza,
7-
Carlo, S., Church, 53, 54
Carrozza, Via, 32.
Cemetery, English, 36-38, \
39, 40-41. 57-
Churches —
Andrea, S., della Valle,
7-
Carlo, S., 53, 54.
Lateran, S. John, 19-20.
Lucia, S., della Tinta,
19-
Maria, S., del Popolo,
16.
Peter, S., 43.
Trinita, S., de' Monti,
33-
Cicero's Villa, 4-5.
Coelius, Mount, 30.
Colosseum, 9.
Condotti, Via, 46.
Corso, Via del, 26, 31, 39,
53. 54-
Corso Vittorio Emanu
ele, Via, 7.
Costanzo, Hotel, 42-43.
Croce, Via del, 50.
Curia, 5, 8.

72

Due Macelli, Via de',
56.
English Cemetery, 36-
38, 39, 40-41, 57.
Esquiline Hill, 12, 13, 42.
Esquilino, Piazza dell', 56.
Farnese, Palazzo, 24.
Felice, Via, 45-46.
Forum, 5,6, 10-11, 13.
Frascati, 43.
Giovanni, S., Porta, 44.
Greco, Caffe, 46.
Gregoriana, Via, 60.
Grotta Ferrata, 4-5.
Hilda's Tower, 64-67.
Hills— Alban, 21, 42.
Capitol, 14,
Coelius, 30.
Esquiline, 12, 13, 42.
Janiculum, 20.
Mario, 60.
Palatine, 4, 30, 32.
< Pincian, 5, 12.
Quirinal, 12, 42-43, 56.
Sabine, 21.
Sacer, 29.
Holy Staircase, 16-17.
Hotels —
Amerique, 54.
Bear, 17-18, 19.
Bristol, 49.
Costanzo, 42-43.
Inghilterra, 52, 54.
Italia, 41.
Londres, 56.

Minerva, 55.
Orso, 17-18, 19,
Paris, 44.
Indipendenza, Piazza
dell', 31.
Inghilterra, Hotel, 52, 54.
Italia, Hotel, 41.
Janiculum Hill, 20.
Julia, Rostra, 10.
Jupiter Stator, Temple of,
4-
Larazani, Palazzo, 61-
62.
Lateran, S. John, Church,
19-20.
Londres, HStel de, 56.
Lucia, S., della Tinta,
Church, 19.
Lucullus, Villa of, 5.
Maecenas, Villa of, 12-
13-
Magenta, Via, 31.
Maria, S., de' Fiori, Via,
3i-
Maria, S., Maggiore, Via,
13.47-
Maria, S., sopra Minerva,
Convent, 21-22.
Maria, S., del Popolo,
Church, 16.
Mario, Monte, 60.
Mercede, Via di, 44.
Mills, Villa, 32.
Minerva, Hotel, 55.
Minerva, Piazza della, 22,
55-

73

Muti, Villa, 43.
Nazionale, Via, 46-47,
56-57-
Nicola, S., da Tolentino,
Via, 43, 44, 58-59.
Onofrio, S., Monas
tery, 20-21.
Orso, Albergo dell', 17-
18, 19.
Orso, Via dell', 17.
Palatine Hill, 4, 30,
32.
Palazzo —
Barberini, 23, 42, 49, 58,
61.
Bernini, 53.
Borghese, 48.
Farnese, 24.
Larazani, 61-62.
Quirinal, 23.
Rondinini, 27, 31.
Rospigliosa, 56.
Spada alia Regola, 7-
10.
Verospi, 39.
Zuccari, 53-54.
Paolo, S. Porta, 40.
Paris, Hotel de, 44.
Peter, S., Cathedral, 43.
Pia, Porta, 23, 29.
Piazza —
Barberini, 45, 49, 58, 59,
61.
Capo di Ferro, 7.
Esquilino, 56.
Indipendenza, 31.
Minerva, 22, 55.

Poli, 62-63.
Popolo, 26, 54,
Spagna, 24, 26, 32, 33 -
36, 38-39. 47-48, 54.
56 bis, 57.
Trinita, S., de Monti,
59-60.
Pincian Hill, 5, 12.
Poli, Piazza, 62-63.
Poli, Via, 63.
Pompey's Senate House,
7-
Pompey's Statue, 7-10.
Pompey's Theatre, 7.
Ponte —
Rotto, 30.
Sublicius, 30.
Popolo, Piazza del, 26,
54-
Popolo, Porta del, 25, 56.
Porta —
Capena, 5.
Giovanni, S., 44.
Paolo, S., 40.
Pia, 23, 29.
Popolo, 25, 56.
Porta Pinciani, Via di,
59. 61.
Portoghesi, Via, 64-67.
Post-Office, General, 44.
Protestant Cemetery, 36-
38, 39, 40-41, 57.
Pyramid of Caius Ces
tius, 36-37.
Quattro Fontane,
Via, 23, 46-47, 57-58.
Quirinal Hill, 12, 42-43,
56.
Quirinal Palace, 23.

74

Regia, 6.
Ripetta, Via di, 44, 48-49.
Rondinini, Palazzo, 27, 3 1 .
Rosella, Via, 47.
Rospigliosi, Palazzo, 56.
Rostra, 5.
Rostra, Julia, 10.
Rotto, Ponte, 30.
Sabine Hills, 21.
Sacer, Mons, 29.
Sacra, Via, 6-7, 29.
Sacred Way, 6-7, 29.
Sallust, Villa of, 1 1-12,42.
Scala, Santa, 16-17.
Senate Hall, 14.
Senate House, Pompey's,
7-
Shrine of Venus, 28-29.
Sistina, Via, 46, 53, 60, 61.
Spada alia Regola, Pa
lazzo, 7-10.
Spagna, Piazza di, 24, 26,
32, 33-36, 38-39. 47-48,
54, 56 bis, 57.
Spanish Steps, 33, 38-39,
47-
Stranger's Quarter, 24,
26, 32, 33-36, 38-39. 47-
48, 54, 56 bis, 57.
Sublician Bridge, 30.
Suburra, 13.
Susanna, Via, 47.
Tarpeian Rock, 52-53.
Tasso's Oak, 21.
Temple —
of Caesar, 10, 29.
of Jupiter Stator, 4.
of Vesta, 6.

Theatre of Pompey, 7.
Titus, Baths of, 13.
Trinita, S., de' Monti,
Church, 33.
Trinita, S., de' Monti, Pi
azza, 59-60.
Tritone, Via del, 50, 51.
Tusculum, 4-5.
Vatican, 63.
Venus, Shrine of, 28-29.
Verospi, Palazzo, 39.
Vesta, Temple of, 6.
Via— Babuino, 54.
Basilio, S., 56 bis.
Bocca di Leone, 50-51,
52, 56.
Carrozza, 32.
Condotti, 46.
Corso, 26, 31, 39, 53, 54.
Corso Vittorio Eman
uele, 7.
Croce, 50.
Due Macelli, 56.
Felice, 45-46.
Gregoriana, 60.
Magenta, 31.
Maria, S., de' Fiori, 31.
Maria, S., Maggiore,
13. 47-
Mercede, 44.
Nazionale, 46-47, 56-
57-
Nicola, S., da Tolenti
no, 43, 44, 58-59.
Orso, 17.
Poli, 63.
Porta Pinciani, 59, 61.
Portoghesi, 64-67.

75

Quattro Fontane, 23,
46-47. 57-58.
Ripetta, 44, 48-49.
Rosella, 47.
Sacra, 6-7, 29.
Sistina, 46, 53, 60,
61.
Susanna, 47.
Tritone, 50, 51.
Vittoria, 31.
Vicus Cyprius, 13.
Vicus Tuscus, 28-29.

Villa— Barberini, 12.
Cicero, 4-5.
Lucullus, 5.
Msecenas, 12-13.
Mills, 32.
Muti, 43.
Sallust, 11-12, 42.
Vittoria, Via, 31.
Zuccarri, Palazzo, 53-
54-

the end

3 9002 08837 1613

YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

Gift of

GEORGE WATSON COLE

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