leaves room for little gardens and vineyards. On its summit stands the celebrated temple commonly called of the Sybil, though by many antiquaries supposed to belong to Vesta. This beautiful pile is so well known that it is almost unnecessary to inform the reader that it is circular (as all the temples of Vesta), of the Corinthian order, built in the reign of Augustus, and admired not for its size but its proportions and situation. It stands in the back court of the inn, exposed to the weather without any roof or covering, but its own solidity seems to be a sufficient pro . tection. Of its eighteen pillars ten only remain with their entablature. An English nobleman, well known in Italy for his numberless purchases, is reported to have offered a considerable sum to the innkeeper on whose property it stands, for this ruin, with an intention of transporting it to England, to be re-erected in his park. The proposal, it is said, was accepted, but fortu nately, before the work of devastation was begun, a prohibition was issued by government, grounded upon a declaration that ruins are public property, and of course not to be defaced or removed without express permission, which as it tended to strip the country of the monuments of its ancient glory, and consequently of its most valuable ornaments, the government could not and would not give. This attempt to transplant the temple of Vesta from Italy to England may perhaps do honor to the late Lord Bristol's patriotism or to his magnificence, but it cannot be considered as an indication of either taste or judgment. The temple of Tivoli derives, it is true, much intrinsic merit from its size and proportions, but it is not architectural merit alone which gives it its principal interest. Placed on the verge of a rocky bank, it is suspended over the præceps Anio, and the echoing abode of the Naiads, it has beheld Augustus and Mecenas, Virgil and Horace, repose under its columns, has survived the empire and even the language of its founders; and after eighteen hundred years of storms, tempests, revolutions, and barbarism, it still exhibits its fair proportioned form to the eye of the traveller, and claims at once his applause and his veneration. Near the temple of Vesta stand the remains of another temple, supposed to be that of the Sybil, consisting of four pillars, and now forming a part of the wall of the parish church of St. George. Besides these scarce any other vestige remains of ancient Tibur, though considering its antiquity, its population, and its salubrity, it must have possessed a considerable share of magnificence. But if its artificial ornaments have perished, and if its temples and its villas have long since crumbled into dust, the unalterable graces which nature has conferred upon it still remain, and its orchards, its gardens, and its cool recesses bloom and flourish in unfading beauty. If Horace, who so often and so fondly celebrates the charms of Tibur, were to revive, he would still find the grove, the irriguous garden, the ever-varying rill, the genial soil, in short, all the well known features of his beloved retreat. To enjoy this delicious scenery to advantage, the traveller must cross the bridge and follow the road which runs at the foot of the classic Monte Catillo, and winds along the banks of the Anio, rolling after its fall through the valley in a deep dell. As he advances, he will have on his left the steep banks covered with trees, shrubs, and gardens; and on his right, the bold but varying swells of the hills, shaded with groves of olives. These sunny declivities were anciently interspersed with splendid villas, the favorite abodes of the most luxurious and most refined Romans. They are now replaced by two solitary convents, lifting each its white tower above the dark green mass of olives. Their site, often conjectural or traditionary, is sometimes marked by some scanty vestiges of ruin, and now and then by the more probable resemblance of a name. Thus several subterraneous apartments and galleries near St. Antonio are supposed to be the remains of the seat of Vopiscus, celebrated by Statius. That of Propertius Candida qua geminas ostendunt culmina turres is supposed to have stood on the site of the other convent St. Angelo, while the villa of Quintilius Varus, or rather its foundations, still retain the kindred appellation of Quintiliolo. But the house of Vopiscus, as must appear evident to any reader who thinks proper to consult the poet alluded to, must have been in the dell, and have actually hung over the river, as it occupied both the banks and saw its surrounding shades reflected from the surface of the water.* The fond attachment of Horace to Tibur, united to the testimony of Suetonius, has induced many antiquaries to imagine, that at some period or other of his life he possessed a little villa in its neighbourhood, and tradition accordingly ennobles a few Nemora alta citatis Incubuere vadis, fallax responsat imago Frondibus, et longas eadem fugit unda per umbras Littus utrumque domi: nec te mitissimus amnis Non externa sibi, fluviumve obstare queruntur. Statius Syl. 1. 3. scattered fragments of walls and arches with the interesting appellation of Horace's villa. The site is indeed worthy the poet, where, defended by a semicircular range of wooded mountains from every cold blustering wind, he might look down on the playful windings of the Anio below, discover numerous rills gleaming through the thickets as they glided down the opposite bank, enjoy a full view of the splendid mansion of his friend Mæcenas rising directly before him, and catch a distant perspective of Aurea Roma, of the golden towers of the Capitol soaring majestic on its distant mount. But whatever the poet's wishes might be, it is not probable that his moderate income would permit him to enjoy such a luxurious residence in a place so much frequented, and consequently so very expensive; and indeed the very manner in which those wishes are expressed seems to imply but slight hopes of ever being able to realize them. "Tibur, &c. sit-utinam-Unde si-Parcæ prohibent iniqua." If Horace actually possessed a villa there, the wish was unnecessary, as the event lay in his own power. The authority of Suetonius seems indeed positive, but it is possible that the same place may be alluded to under the double appellation of his Sabine or Tiburtine seat*. Horace, it is true, often represents himself as meditating his compositions while he wandered along the plains and through the groves of Tibur; * That villas in the vicinity of Tibur sometimes took their name from the town, and sometimes from the territory, is evident from Catullus. → Funde noster, seu Sabine, seu Tibur Nam te esse Tiburtem autumant quibus non est Circa nemus, uvidique Tiburis ripas operosa parvus But as he was probably a frequent companion of Mæcenas in his excursions to his villa at Tibur, he may in those lines allude to his solitary rambles and poetical reveries. Catullus, a Roman knight, had fortune sufficient to indulge himself in such an expensive residence, and accordingly speaks with much complacency of his Tiburtine retreat, which, on account of its proximity to the town, he calls suburbana. Munatius Plancus also possessed a villa at Tibur, apparently of great beauty. To this the poet alludes in that ode* where, in enlarging on the charms of the place, he recommends indirectly and with much delicacy to his friend, who in a moment of disgrace and despondency was meditating a voluntary exile, his delightful seat at Tibur, as a retirement far preferable to Rhodes and Mitylene, in those times much frequented by disaffected or banished Romans. But to abandon these aerial charms, spread indeed like flitting shades over every grove and every meadow, but perceptible only to the eye of classic imagination, let us turn to the visible beauties that line our walk and appear in new forms at every turning. As the traveller, following the bend of the hill, comes to the side of the road opposite to the town, he catches first a side glimpse, and shortly after a full view of the Cascatelli, or lesser cascades, inferior in mass and grandeur, but equal in beauty to the great fall in the town. They are formed by a branch of the Anio, turned off from the main body of the river, before it reaches the precipice, for the uses of the inhabitants, and after Carm. Lib. 1. Od. 7. |