When the whole amphitheatre was entire190, a child might comprehend its design in a moment, and go direct to his place without straying in the porticoes; for each arcade bears its number engraved, and opposite each arcade was a staircase. This multiplicity of wide, straight, and separate passages, proves the attention which the ancients paid to the safe discharge of a crowd.191 As it now stands, the Coliseum is a striking image of Rome itself; – decayed, vacant, serious; yet grand: – half grey, and half green; erect on one side and fallen on the other, with consecrated ground in its bosom, inhabited by a herdsman; visited by every caste: for moralists, antiquaries, painters, architects, devotees, all meet here to meditate, to examine, to draw, to measure, and to copy.
The figure of the Coliseum was an ellipse, whose longer diameter was about six hundred and fifteen English feet, and the shorter five hundred and ten feet. The longer diameter of the arena, or space within, was about two hundred and eighty-one feet, and the shorter one hundred and seventy-six feet, leaving the circuit for seats and galleries, of about one hundred and fifty-seven feet in breadth. The outward circumference when complete was about seventeen hundred and seventy-two feet, covering a surface of about two hundred and forty-six thousand, six hundred and sixty-one feet, or something more than five acres and a half. When some pilgrims192 who journeyed to Rome beheld this vast amphitheatre, they are said to have exclaimed, “As long as the Coliseum stands, Rome shall stand; when the Coliseum falls, Rome will fall; and when Rome falls, the world will fall.”
193It is impossible to contemplate without horror the dreadful scenes of carnage which for two hundred and fifty years disgraced the amphitheatre, or to regard without utter detestation the character of the people who took pleasure in spectacles of such monstrous brutality. We may form some idea of the myriads of men and animals destroyed in these houses of slaughter, from one instance which is recorded by Dio. He informs us that after the triumph of Trajan over the Dacians, spectacles were exhibited for one hundred and twenty-three days, in which eleven thousand animals were killed, and one thousand gladiators were matched against each other. Nor was it only malefactors, captives, and slaves, that were doomed to contend in these dreadful games: free-born citizens hired themselves as gladiators, men of noble birth sometimes degraded themselves so far as to fight on the stage for the amusement of their countrymen, – even women, ladies too of high rank, forgetting the native delicacy and the feebleness of their sex, strove on the arena for the prize of valour for the honour of adroitness in murder. A people thus inured to blood, were prepared for every villainy; nor is it possible to read of the enormities which disgraced the transactions of the later Romans, without ascribing them in a great measure to the ferocity of temper, fostered by the shocking amusements of the amphitheatre.
“The Coliseo,” says Dupaty, “is unquestionably the most admirable monument of the Roman power under the Cæsars. From its vast circuit, from the multitude of stones of which it is formed, from that union of columns of every order, which rise up one above the other, in a circular form, to support three rows of porticoes; from all the dimensions, in a word, of this prodigious edifice, we instantly recognise the work of a people, sovereigns of the universe, and slaves of an emperor. I wandered long around the Coliseo, without venturing, if I may so say, to enter it: my eyes surveyed it with admiration and awe. Not more than one half of this vast edifice at present is standing; yet the imagination may still add what has been destroyed, and complete the whole. At length I entered within its precincts. What an astonishing scene! What contrasts! What a display of ruins, and of all the parts of the monument, of every form, every age, and, as I may say, every year; some bearing the marks of the hand of time, and others of the hand of the barbarian. These crumbled down yesterday, those a few days before, a great number on the point of falling, and some, in short, which are falling from one moment to another. Here we see a tottering portico, there a falling entablament, and further on, a seat; while, in the meanwhile, the ivy, the bramble, the moss, and various plants, creep amongst these ruins, grow, and insinuate themselves; and, taking root in the cement, are continually detaching, separating, and reducing to powder these enormous masses; the work of ages, piled on each other by the will of an emperor, and the labour of a hundred thousand slaves. There was it then that gladiators, martyrs, and slaves, combated on the Roman festivals, only to make the blood circulate a little quicker in the veins of a hundred thousand idle spectators. I thought I still heard the roaring of the lions, the sighs of the dying, the voice of the executioners, and what would strike my ear with still greater horror, the applauses of the Romans. I thought I heard them, by these applauses, encouraging and demanding carnage; the men requiring still more blood from the combatants; and the women, more mercy for the dying. I imagined I beheld one of these women, young and beautiful, on the fall of a gladiator, rise from her seat and with an eye which had just caressed a lover, welcome, or repel, find fault with, or applaud, the last sigh of the vanquished, as if she had paid for it.
“But what a change has taken place in this arena! In the middle stands a crucifix, and all round this crucifix, at equal distances, fourteen altars, consecrated to different saints, are erected in the dens, which once contained the wild beasts. The Coliseo was daily hastening to destruction; the stones were carried off, and it was constantly disfigured, and made the receptacle of filth; when Benedict XIV. conceived the idea of saving this noble monument by consecrating it; by defending it with altars, and protecting it with indulgences. These walls, these columns, and these porticoes, have now no other support but the names of those very martyrs with whose blood they were formerly stained. I walked through every part of the Coliseo; I ascended into all its different stories; and sat down in the box of the emperors. I shall long remember the silence and solitude that reigned through these galleries, along these ranges of seats, and under these vaulted porticoes. I stopped from time to time to listen to the echo of my feet in walking. I was delighted, too, with attending to a certain faint rustling, more sensible to the soul than to the ear, occasioned by the hand of time, which is continually at work, and undermining the Coliseo on every side. What pleasure did I not enjoy, too, in observing how the day gradually retired, and the night as gradually advanced over the arcades, spreading her lengthening shadows. At length I was obliged to retire; with my mind, however, filled with and absorbed in a thousand ideas, a thousand sensations, which can only arise among these ruins, and which these ruins in some degree inspire. Where are the five thousand wild beasts that tore each other to pieces, on the day on which this mighty pile was opened? Silent now are those unnatural shouts of applause, called forth by the murderous fights of the gladiators: – What a contrast to this death of sound!”
“Ascending among the ruins,” says Mr. Williams, “we took our station where the whole magnitude of the Coliseum was visible. What a fulness of mind the first glance excited; yet how inexpressible, at the same time, were our feelings! The awful silence of this dread ruin still appealed to our hearts. The single sentinel’s tread, and the ticking of our watches, were the only sounds we heard, while the moon was marching in the vault of night, and the stars were peeping through the various openings; the shadows of the flying clouds being all that reminded us of life and of motion.”
The manner, in which the traveller should survey the curiosities of Rome, must be determined by the length of time which he can afford for that purpose. “There are two modes of seeing Rome,” says Mr. Mathews; “the topographical, followed by Vasi, who parcels out the town into eight divisions, and jumbles every thing together, – antiquities, churches, and palaces, if their situation be contiguous; and the chronological, – which would carry you regularly from the house of Romulus to the palace of the reigning pontiff. The first mode is the most expeditious, and the least expensive; for even if the traveller walk afoot, the economy of time is worth considering; and after all that can be urged in favour of the chronological order, on the score of reason, Vasi’s plan is perhaps the best. For all that is worth seeing at all is worth seeing twice. Vasi’s mode hurries you through every thing; but it enables you to select and note down those objects that are worthy of public examination, and these may be afterwards studied at leisure. Of the great majority of sights it must be confessed that all we obtain for our labour is the knowledge that they are not worth seeing; – but this is a knowledge, that no one is willing to receive upon the authority of another, and Vasi’s plan offers a most expeditious mode of arriving at this truth by one’s own proper experience. His plan is, however, too expeditious; for he would get through the whole town, with all its wonders, ancient and modern, in eight days!”
Expeditious as it is, some of our indefatigable countrymen have contrived to hit upon one still more so. You may tell them that the antiquaries allow eight days for the tour, and they will boast of having beaten the antiquaries, and “done it in six.” This rapid system may do, or rather must do, for those who have no time for any other; but to the traveller who wishes to derive instruction and profit from his visit, a more leisurely survey is essential. “For my own part,” says Mr. Woods, “the first eight days I spent in Rome were all hurry and confusion, and I could attend to nothing systematically, nor even examine any thing with accuracy; a sort of restless eagerness to see every thing and know every thing, gave me no power of fixing my attention on any one particular.”
We must now close our account: not that we have by any means exhausted the subject, for it demands volumes and years; whereas our space is limited, and our time is short. We shall, therefore, devote the remainder of our space and time to the impressions with which the ruins of this city have been viewed by several elegant and accomplished travellers.
“At length I behold Rome,” said Dupaty. “I behold that theatre, where human nature has been all that it can ever be, has performed every thing it can perform, has displayed all the virtues, exhibited all the vices, brought forth the sublimest heroes, and the most execrable monsters, has been elevated to a Brutus, degraded to a Nero, and re-ascended to a Marcus Aurelius.”
“Even those who have not read at all,” says Dr. Burton, “know, perhaps, more of the Romans than of any other nation194 which has figured in the world. If we prefer modern history to ancient, we still find Rome in every page; and if we look with composure upon an event so antiquated as the fall of the Roman empire, we cannot, as Englishmen, or as protestants, contemplate with indifference the sacred empire which Rome erected over the minds and consciences of men. Without making any invidious allusion, it may be said that this second empire has nearly passed away; so that, in both points of view, we have former recollections to excite our curiosity.”
“Neither the superb structures,” says Sir John Hobhouse, “nor the happy climate, have made Rome the country of every man, and ‘the city of the soul.’ The education, which has qualified the traveller of every nation for that citizenship, prepares enjoyments for him at Rome, independent of the city and inhabitants about him, and of all the allurements of site and climate. He will already people the banks of the Tiber with the shades of Pompey, Constantine, and Belisarius, and other heroes. The first footsteps within the venerable walls will have shown him the name and magnificence of Augustus, and the three long narrow streets, branching from the obelisk in the centre of the Piazza del Popolo, like the theatre of Palladio, will have imposed upon his fancy with an air of antiquity congenial to the soil. Even the mendicants of the country asking alms in Latin prayers, and the vineyard gates of the suburbs, inscribed with the ancient language, may be allowed to contribute to the agreeable delusion.”
“What,” says Chateaubriand, gazing on the ruins of Rome by moonlight, “what was doing here eighteen centuries ago, at a like hour of night? Not only has ancient Italy vanished, but the Italy of the middle ages is also gone. Nevertheless, the traces of both are plainly marked at Rome. If this modern city vaunts her St. Peter’s, ancient Rome opposes her Pantheon and all her ruins; if the one marshals from the Capitol her consuls and emperors, the other arrays her long succession of pontiffs. The Tiber divides the rival glories; seated in the same dust, pagan Rome sinks faster and faster into decay, and Christian Rome is gradually re-descending into the catacombs whence she issued.”
What says Lord Byron in regard to this celebrated city? – “I am delighted with Rome. As a whole – ancient and modern – it beats Greece, Constantinople, every thing, – at least that I have seen. As for the Coliseum, Pantheon, St. Peter’s, the Vatican, &c. &c., they are quite inconceivable, and must be seen.”
We close this article with a fine passage from Middleton’s Life of Cicero: – “One cannot help reflecting on the surprising fate and revolutions of kingdoms; how Rome, once the mistress of the world, the seat of arts, empire, and glory, now lies sunk in sloth, ignorance, and poverty, enslaved to the most cruel, as well as the most contemptible of tyrants, superstition and religious imposture; while this remote country, anciently the jest and contempt of the polite Romans, is become the happy seat of liberty, plenty, and letters; flourishing in all the arts and refinements of civil life; yet running, perhaps, the same course which Rome itself had run before, – from virtuous industry to wealth; from wealth to luxury; from luxury to an impatience of discipline and corruption of morals; till, by a total degeneracy and loss of virtue, being grown ripe for destruction, it falls a prey at last to some hardy oppressor; and, with the loss of liberty, losing every thing that is valuable, sinks gradually again into original barbarism.”
See the wild waste of all-devouring years:
How Rome her own sad sepulchre appears!
With nodding arches, broken temples spread!
The very tombs now vanish’d like their dead!
Imperial wonders raised on nations spoil’d,
Where mix’d with slaves the groaning martyr toil’d:
Huge theatres, that now unpeopled woods,
Now drain’d a distant country of her floods:
Fanes, which admiring gods with pride survey,
Statues of men, scarce less alive than they!195
Pope’s Epistle to Addison.
NO. XXII. – SAGUNTUM
Proud and cruel nation! every thing must be yours, and at your disposal! You are to prescribe to us with whom we shall make war; with whom we shall make peace! You are to set bounds; to shut us up between hills and rivers: but you – you are not to observe the limits which yourselves have fixed. Pass not the Iberus. What next? Touch not the Saguntines. Saguntum is upon the Iberus; move not a step towards that city.
HANNIBAL’S SPEECH TO HIS SOLDIERS.
Saguntum was a celebrated city of Hispania Taraconensis, on the west side of the Iberus, about a mile from the sea-shore. It was founded by a colony of Zacynthians, and by some of the Rutili of Ardea196.
Saguntum, according to Livy, acquired immense riches, partly from its commerce both by land and sea, and partly from its just laws and excellent police.
Saguntum was under the protection of the Romans, if not numbered amongst its cities; and when by a treaty made between that people and the Carthaginians, the latter were permitted to carry their arms as far as the Iberus, this city was excepted.
The moment Hannibal was created general, he lost no time, for fear of being prevented by death, as his father had been. Though the Spaniards had so much advantage over him, with regard to the number of forces, their army amounting to upwards of one hundred thousand men, yet he chose his time and posts so happily, that he entirely defeated them. After this every thing submitted to his arms. But he still forbore laying siege to Saguntum, carefully avoiding every occasion of a rupture with the Romans, till he should be furnished with all things necessary for so important an enterprise; – pursuant to the advice of his father. He applied himself particularly to engage the affections of the citizens and allies, and to gain their confidence, by allotting them a large share of the plunder taken from the enemy, and by paying them all their arrears.
The Saguntines, on their side, sensible of the danger with which they were threatened, from the continued successes of Hannibal, advertised the Romans of them. Upon this, deputies were nominated by the latter, and ordered to go and take a personal information upon the spot; they commanded them also to lay their complaints before Hannibal, if it should be thought proper; and in case he should refuse to do justice, that then they should go directly to Carthage, and make the same complaints. In the meantime, Hannibal laid siege to Saguntum, promising himself great advantages from the taking of this city. He was persuaded that this would deprive the Romans of all hopes of carrying the war into Spain; that this new conquest would secure the old ones; and that no enemy would be left behind him; that he should find money enough in it for the execution of his designs; that the plunder of the city would inspire his soldiers with great ardour, and make them follow him with greater cheerfulness; and that, lastly, the spoils which he should send to Carthage would gain him the favour of the citizens. Animated by these motives, he carried on the siege with the utmost vigour.
News was soon carried to Rome, that Saguntum was besieged. But the Romans, instead of flying to its relief, lost their time in fruitless debates, and equally insignificant disputations. The Saguntines were now reduced to the last extremity, and in want of all things. An accommodation was thereupon proposed; but the conditions on which it was offered, appeared so harsh, that the Saguntines could not so much as think of accepting them. Before they gave their final answer, the principal senators, bringing their gold and silver, and that of the public treasury, into the market-place, threw both into a fire, lighted for that purpose, and afterwards themselves! At the same time, a tower which had been long assaulted by the battering-rams, falling with a dreadful noise, the Carthaginians entered the city by the breach, and soon made themselves masters of it, and cut to pieces all the inhabitants, who were of sufficient age to bear arms.
“Words,” says Polybius, “could never express the grief and consternation with which the news of the taking, and cruel fate of Saguntum, was received at Rome. Compassion for an unfortunate city, shame for their having failed to succour such faithful allies, a just indignation against the Carthaginians, the authors of all these calamities; the strong alarms, raised by the successes of Hannibal, whom the Romans fancied they saw already at their gates; all these sentiments were so violent, that, during the first moments of them, the Romans were unable to come to any resolution, or do any thing, but give way to the torrent of their passion, and sacrifice floods of tears to the memory of a city, which lay in ruins because of its inviolable fidelity to the Romans, and had been betrayed by their imprudent delays, and unaccountable indolence. When they were a little recovered, an assembly of the people was called, and war unanimously declared against the people of Carthage.”
The conqueror afterwards rebuilt it, and placed a garrison there, with all the noblemen whom he had detained as hostages, from the several neighbouring nations of Spain197.
The city remained in a deplorable state of distress under the Carthaginians, till the year of Rome 538, when Scipio, having humbled the power of Carthage in Spain, in process of time recovered Saguntum, and made it, as Pliny says, “a new city.” By the Romans it was treated with every kind of distinction; but at some period, not ascertained by historians, it was reduced to ruins.
The city of Morviedro is supposed to be situated on the ruins of Saguntum; the name of which being derived from Muri veteres, Muros viejos, “old walls.” It abounds with vestiges of antiquity. Several Celtiberian and Roman inscriptions are seen; but of all the numerous statues that the temples, and other public edifices of Saguntum once had, only one remains, of white marble, without a head; besides the fragment of another.
The traces of the walls of its circus are, nevertheless, still discernible; though its mosaic pavement is destroyed. A greater portion of the theatre remains than of any other Roman monument.
A writer on Spanish antiquities in 1684, gives the following account of this city, whereby we may learn that at that time there were many more remains of antiquity then there are at present. “The Roman inscriptions,” says he, “that are scattered up and down in the public and private buildings, and the medals and other monuments of antiquity, that have been found there, being endless, I shall only present my reader with that which is over one of the gates of the town, in honour of the emperor Claudius: —
“SENATVS. POPVLVSQUE
SAGVNTINORVM
CLAVDIO
INVICTO. PIO. FEL. IMP
CAES. PONT. MAX
TRIB. POT. P.P
PROCOS
“And upon another gate, near the cathedral, is a head of Hannibal, cut in stone. From hence, if you mount still higher up the rock, you come to an amphitheatre, which has twenty-six rows of seats one above another, all cut in the rock; and in the other parts the arches are so thick and strong, that they are little inferior to the rock itself. There are remains of prodigious aqueducts, and numbers of vast cisterns under ground. As this country has been celebrated by Titus Livius, and Polybius, for its fertility, I shall take notice of one or two of its productions, which are peculiar to it. First then, the winter figs, which Pliny speaks of, are to be met with in great perfection at this day; and are almost as remarkable for their flavour and sweetness, as for their hanging upon the trees in the middle of the winter. Their pears also have a higher reputation than any others. There are cherry-trees that are full of fine fruit in January: and in a place near Canet, about half a league off, they raised a melon that weighed thirty pounds198.”