frontier colonies towards Etruria. Here we join the Perugia and Ancona road, and after the junction our ways seem much improved. And now we are ascending a long hill into Monterossi, which seems to stand on a sort of shoulder running down from the hills of the Lake Sabatinus towards the Campagna. I suppose that this country must have been the going of Veii. The twenty-sixth milestone from Rome stands just at the foot of the hill going up into Monterossi. Here they are threshing their corn vigorously out in the sun; I should have thought that it must be dry enough any where. Arrived at Monterossi 9.30, at the twenty-fifth milestone, 9.44. Here begins the Campagna, and I am glad to find that my description of it in Vol. I. is quite correct. Here are the long slopes and the sluggish streams, such as I have described them, and the mountain wall almost grander than my recollection of it. And, as our common broom was tufting all the slopes and banks when I was here last in April and May, so now, in July we have our garden broom no less beautiful. I observe that since we have joined the Perugia road, every thing seems in better style, both roads and posting, because that is the great road to Bologna and Ancona, and the Sienna road leads within the Roman States to no place of consequence. Here is one of the lonely Osterie of the Campagna, but now smartened up into the Hotel des Sept Veines, Sette Vene, strange to behold. Here we found our Neapolitan friend, who, not liking his horses, had sent them back to Monterossi, and was waiting for others. The postillions would have changed them for ours, deeming our necks, I suppose, of no consequence; but our Neapolitan friend most kindly advised me not to allow them to change; a piece of disinterested, or rather self-denying consideration, for which I felt much obliged to him. Strange it is to look at these upland slopes, so fresh, so airy, so open, and to conceive that malaria can be here. They have been planting trees here by the road side, acacias and elms and shumacks, a nice thing to do, and perhaps also really useful, as trees might possibly lessen the malaria. We see the men who come to reap the crops in the Campagna sleeping under the shade by the road side; we are going up the outer rim of the Bacano crater; the road is a "via cava," and the beauty of the brooms and wild figs is exquisite. Now we are in the crater, quite round with a level bottom about one mile and a half in diameter. Arrived at Baccano, 10.35. Left it, 10.45. And now we are going up the inner rim of the crater, and it is an odd place to look back on. I put up Catstabber, take my pen, and look with all my eyes, for here is the top of the rim, and Rome is before us, though as yet I see it not. We have just seen it, 11.5. S. Peter's within the horizon line, Mons Albanus, the portal into the Hernican country, Præneste, Tibur, and the valley of the Anio towards Sublaqueum. Of earthly sights toltor auto-Athens and Jerusalem are the other two-the three people of God's election, two for things temporal, and one for things eternal. Yet even in the things eternal they were allowed to minister. Greek cultivation and Roman polity prepared men for Christianity, as Mahometanism' can bear witness, for the East, when it abandoned Greece and Rome, could only reproduce Judaism. Mahometanism, six hundred years after Christ, justifies the wisdom of God in Judaism; proving that the eastern man could bear nothing more perfect. Here I see perfectly the shoulder of land which joins the Alban Hills to the mountains by Præneste, and through the gap over them I see the mountains of the Volscians. A long ridge lies before us, between us and La Storta, but, if we turned to the left before we ascended it, we could get down to the Tiber without a hill. And here I look upon Veii, (Isola Farnese,) and see distinctly the little cliff above the stream which was made available for the old walls. We are descending to the stream at Osteria del Fosso, which was

"The unworthy idea of Paradise" in the Koran, he used to say, "justifies the ways of God in not revealing a future state earlier, since man in early ages was not fit for it."

one of those that flowed under the walls of Veii. And here at Osteria del Fosso we have the little cliffy banks which were so often used here for the fortifications of the ancient towns, and such as I have just seen in Veii itself. We are going up the ridge from Osteria del Fosso, and have just passed the 11th milestone. These bare slopes overgrown with thistles and fern are very solemn, while the bright broom cheering the road banks might be an image of God's grace in the wilderness, and a type that it most cheers those who keep to the straight road of duty. Past the tenth milestone, and here apparently with no descent to reach to, is La Storta. Arrived at La Storta, 12.4. Left it, 12.14. Here is a Campagna scene, on the left a lonely Osteria, and on the right one of the lonely square towers of this district, old refuges for men and cattle in the middle ages. We descend gradually; the sides of the slopes, both right and left, (for we are on a ridge,) are prettily clothed with copsewood. I have just seen the Naples road beyond Rome, the back of the Monte Mario, the towers of the churches at the Porta del Popolo. And now, just past the fourth milestone, S. Peter's has opened from behind Monte Mario, and we go down by zig and zag towards the level of the Tiber. It brings us down into a pretty green valley watered by the Acqua Traversa, where, for the first time, we have a few vines on the slope above. The Acqua Traversa joins the Tiber above the Milvian bridge, so we cross him and go up out of his little valley on the right.__And here we and the first houses which seem like the approach to a city. There are the cypresses on the Monte Mario, and here is the Tiber and the Milvian bridge. We are crossing the Tiber now, and now we are in the AGER ROMANUS. Garden walls and ordinary suburb houses line the road on both sides, but the Collis Hortulorum rises prettily on the left with its little cliffs, its cypresses, copsewood and broom. The Porta del Popolo is in sight, and then Passport and Dogana must be minded, so here I stop for the present, 1,20.

ROME, July 9. Again this date, my dearest, one of the most solemn and interesting to me that my hand can ever write, and now even more interesting than when I saw it last.

7. The Pantheon I had never seen before, and I admire it greatly; its vastness, and the opening at the top which admitted the view of the cloudless sky, both struck me particularly. Of the works of art at the Vatican, I ought not to speak, but I was glad to find that I could understand the Apollo better than when I last saw it.

S. Stefano Rotondo on the Cælian, so called from its shape, consists of two rows of concentric pillars, and contains the old Mosaic of our Lord, of which I spoke in my former journal. It exhibits, also, in a series of pictures all round the church, the martyrdoms of the Christians in the so-called Persecutions, with a general picture of the most eminent martyrs since the triumph of Christianity. No doubt many of the particular stories thus painted, will bear no critical examination: it is likely enough, too, that Gibbon has truly accused the general statements of exaggeration. But this is a thankless labour, such as Lingard and others have undertaken with respect to the St. Bartholomew massacre, and the Irish massacre of 1642. Divide the sum total of reported martyrs by twenty-by fifty if you will-but after all you have a number of persons of all ages and sexes suffering cruel torments and death for conscience sake and for Christ's, and by their sufferings manifestly, with God's blessing, ensuring the triumph of Christ's Gospel. Neither do I think that we consider the excellence of this martyr spirit half enough. I do not think that pleasure is a sin: the Stoics of old, and the ascetic Christians since, who have said so, (see the answers of that excellent man, Pope Gregory the Great, to Augustine's questions, as given at length

He had, however, a great respect for the later Stoics :-" It is common to ridicule them," he said; "but their triumph over bodily pain was one of the noblest efforts after good ever made by man, without revelation. He that said to pain, Thou art no evil to me, so long as I can endure thee,'-it was given him from God."

by Bede,) have, in saying so, overstepped the simplicity and the wisdom of the Christian truth. But, though pleasure is not a sin, yet surely the contemplation of suffering for Christ's sake is a thing most needful for us in our days, from whom in our daily life suffering seems so far removed. And, as God's grace enabled rich and delicate persons, women, and even children, to endure all extremities of pain and reproach in times past, so there is the same grace no less mighty now; and if we do not close ourselves againt it, it might in us be no less glorified in a time of trial. And that such time of trial will come, my children, in your days, if not in mine, I do believe fully, both from the teaching of man's wisdom, and of God's. And, therefore, pictures of martyrdoms are, I think, very wholesome,-not to be sneered at, nor yet to be looked on as a mere excitement,-but a sober reminder to us of what Satan can do to hurt, and what Christ's grace can enable the weakest of His people to bear. Neither should we forget that those who, by their sufferings, were more than conquerors, not for themselves only, but for us, in securing to us the safe and triumphant existence of Christ's blessed faith -in securing to us the possibility, nay, the actual enjoyment, had it not been for the Antichrist of the Priesthood-of Christ's holy and glorious ennλnola, the congregation and commonwealth of Christ's people.

8.

July 12, 1840.

And I see Sezza on its mountain seat; but here is a more sacred spot, Appii Forum, where St. Paul met his friends, when, having landed at Puteoli, he went on by the Appian road to Rome. Here the ancient and the present roads are the same, here, then, the Apostle Paul, with Luke, and with Timothy, travelled along, a prisoner, under a centurion guard, to carry his appeal to Cæsar. How much resulted from that journey-the manifestation of Christ's name iv ole to airwole, the four precious Epistles ad Ephesios, ad Philippenses, ad Colossenses, ad Philemona; and on the other hand, owing to his long absence, the growth of Judaism, that is, of priestcraft, in the eastern Churches, never, alas ! to be wholly put down.

July 13, 1840.

9. Mary says that she never saw so beautiful a spot as Mola di Gaeta. I should say so too, in suo genere ; but Fox How and Chiavenna are so different, that I cannot compare them; so again are Rome from S. Pietro in Montorio,-Oxford from the pretty field, or from St. John's Gardens, London, from Westminster Bridge, and Paris from the Quays. But Mola is one of those spots which are of a beauty not to be forgotten while one lives.

"At Mola is what is called Cicero's Villa. There is no greater folly than to attempt to connect particular spots in this uncertain way with great names; and no one, who represents to his own mind the succession of events and ages which have passed, will attempt to do it upon conjecture, the chances being thousands to one against correctness. There can be no traditions, from the long period when such things were forgotten and uncared for; and what seems to be tradition, in fact, originates in what antiquarians have told the people. People do not enough consider the long periods of the Roman empire after Augustus's time,-the century of the greatest activity under Trajan, and the Antonines, when the Republic and the Augustan age were considered as ancient times,-then Severus and his time,then Diocletian and Theodosius,-when the Roman laws were in full vigour."

Naples, July 14, 1840.

I will write two

10. While we are waiting for dinner, my dearest or three lines of journal. Here we actually are, looking out upon what but

presents images which, with a very little play of fancy, might all be shaped into a fearful drama of Pleasure, Sin, and Death. The Pleasure is every where,-nowhere is nature more lovely, or man, as far as appears, more enjoying; the sin is in the sty of Capreæ, in the dissoluteness of Baiæ and Pompeii,-in the black treachery which in this ill-omened country stained the fame even of Nelson,-in the unmatchable horrors of the White Jacobins of 1799,-in the general absence of any recollections of piety, virtue, or wisdom-for "he that is not with me is against me." And the Death stands manifest in his awfulness in Vesuvius,-in his loathesomeness at the abominable Campo Santo. Far be it from me, or from my friends, to live or to sojourn long in such a place; the very contradictory, as it seems to me, of the Hill Difficulty, and of the House Beautiful, and of the Land of Beulah. But, behold, we are again in voiture, going along the edge of the sea in the port of Naples, and going out to Salerno. Clouds are on the mountains which form the south-east side of the bay; but Vesuvius is clear, and quite quiet.-not a wreath of smoke ascends from him. Since I wrote this, in the last five minutes, there is a faint curl of smoke visible. Striking it is to observe the thousand white houses round his base, and the green of copsewood which runs half way up him, and up to the very summit of his neighbour, the Monte Somma,-and then to look at the desolate blackness of his own cone.

July 15, 1840.

11. We have just left Pompeii, after having spent two hours in walking over the ruins. Now, what has struck me most in this extraordinary scene, speaking historically? That is, what knowledge does one gain from seeing an ancient town destroyed in the first century of the Christian era, thus laid open before us? I do not think that there is much. I observed the streets crossing one another at right angles: I observed the walls of the town just keeping the crown of the hill, and the suburbs and the tombs falling away directly from the gates: I observed the shops in front of the houses,—the streets narrow, the rooms in the houses very small; the dining room in one of the best was twenty feet by eighteen nearly. The Forum was large for the size of the town; and the temples and public buildings occupied a space proportionably greater than with us. I observed the Impluvium, forming a small space in the midst of the Atrium. And I think, farther, that Pompeii is just a thing for pictures to represent adequately; I could understand it from Gell's book, but no book can give me the impressions or the knowledge which I gain from every look at the natural landscape. Then, poetically, Pompeii is to me, as I always thought it would be, no more than Pompeii; that is, it is a place utterly unpoetical. An Osco-Roman town, with some touches of Greek corruption,-a town of the eighth century of Rome, marked by no single noble recollection, nor having-like the polygonal walls of Ciolanothe marks of a remote antiquity and a pure state of society. There is only the same sort of interest with which one would see the ruins of Sodom and Gomorrah, but indeed there is less. One is not authorized to ascribe so solemn a character to the destruction of Pompeii; it is not a peculiar monument of God's judgments, it is the mummy of a man of no worth or dignity,solemn, no doubt, as every thing is which brings life and death into such close connexion, but with no proper and peculiar solemnity, like places rich in their own proper interest, or sharing in the general interest of a remote antiquity, or an uncorrupted state of society. The towns of the Ciolano are like the tomb of a child,-Pompeii is like that of Lord Chesterfield.

July 20, 1840.

12. Rieti is so screened by the thousand elms to which its vines are trained, that you hardly can see the town till you are in it. It stands in the midst of the "Rosea Rura," this marvellous plain of the Velinus, a far fairer than the Thessalian Tempe. Immediately above it are some of the rocky but exquisitely soft hills of the country,—so soft and sweet that they are like

the green hills round Como, or the delicate screen of the head of Derwentwater; the Apennines have lost all their harsher and keep only their finer features-their infinite beauty of outline, and the endless enwrappings of their combes, their cliffs, and their woods. But here is water every where, which gives a universal freshness to every thing. Rieti, I see, stands just at an opening of the hills, so that you may catch its towers on the sky between them. We have crossed the Velino to its left bank, just below its confluence with the Torrano, the ancient Tereno, as I believe, up whose valley we have just been looking, and see it covered with corn, standing in shocks, but not carried. It has been often a very striking sight to see the little camp of stacks raised round a farm-house, and to see multitudes of people assembled, threshing their corn, or treading it out with mules' or horses' feet. Still the towns stand nobly on the mountains. Behold Grecio before us,-two church towers, and the round towers of its old bastions, and the line of its houses on the edge of one cliff, and with other cliffs rising behind it. The road has chosen to go up a shoulder of hill on the left of the valley, for no other visible reason than to give travellers a station like the Bowness Terrace, from which they might have a general view over it. It is really like "the garden of the Lord," and the "Seraph guard" might keep their watch on the summit of the opposite mountains, which, seen under the morning sun, are invested in a haze of heavenly light, as if shrouding a more than earthly glory. Truly may one feel with Von Canitz,' that if the glory of God's perishable works be so great, what must be the glory of the imperishable,-what infinitely more, of Him who is the author of both! And if I feel thrilling through me the sense of this outward beauty-innocent, indeed, yet necessarily unconscious,-what is the sense one ought to have of moral beauty, of God the Holy Spirit's creation,—of humbleness and truth, and self-devotion and love! Much more beautiful, because made truly after God's image, are the forms and colours of kind and wise and holy thoughts, and words, and actions; more truly beautiful is one hour of old Mrs. Price's? patient waiting for the Lord's time, and her cheerful and kind interest in us all, feeling as if she owed us any thing,-than this glorious valley of the Velinus. For this will pass away, and that will not pass away: but that is not the great point;-believe with Aristotle that this should abide, and that should perish; still there is in the moral beauty an inherent excellence which the natural beauty cannot have; for the moral beauty is actually, so to speak, God, and not merely His work: His living and conscious ministers and servants are-it is permitted us to say so-the temples of which the light is God Himself.

Banks of the Metaurus, July 21, 1840.

13. "Livy says, 'the farther Hasdrubal got from the sea, the steeper became the banks of the river.' We noticed some steep banks, but probably they were much higher twenty-three centuries ago; for all rivers have a tendency to raise themselves, from accumulations of gravel, &c.; the windings of the stream, also, would be much more as Livy describes them, in the natural state of the river. The present aspect of this tract of country is the result of 2.000 years of civilization, and would be very different in those times. There would be much of natural forest remaining, the only cultivation being the square patches of the Roman messores, and these only on the best land. The whole plain would look wild, like a new and half-settled country. One of the greatest physical changes on the earth is produced by the extermination of carnivorous animals; for then the graminivorous become so numerous as to eat up all the young trees, so that the forests rapidly diminish, except those trees which they do not eat, as pines and firs."

See the story and poem in Serm. vol. iv. note B.

An old woman in the Almshouses at Rugby, alluded to in p. 153, 431.