LETTER LXIV. PASQUIN-PALAZZO BRASCHI-PALAZZO GIUSTINIANIPANTHEON BY MOONLIGHT-PALAZZO BORGHESE. THE mutilated statue of Pasquin* stands at the corner of the Palazzo Braschi, where he has cut his caustic jokes for many an age, and levelled, with impunity, his sarcasms against priests and princes, popes and cardinals, church and state. The statue of Marforio, in the court of the Museum of the Capitol, was his ancient respondent: but their witty dialogues and smart repartees are now at an end. There is another mutilated figure in a street in Rome, which is known by the name of Madam Lucretia,† but, unlike the loquacity of her sex, she has always maintained a strict silence. Pasquinades, however, are still occasionally current in Rome, though, perhaps, no longer affixed to Pasquin. Amongst many smart epigrams and squibs of satire, some of which would not be intelligible out of Rome, the following seems to me one of the best, and it has, at least, as much truth as point to recommend it. "Venditur hic Christus, venduntur dogmata Petri, Descendam infernum ne quoque vendar ego." Pasquin did not spare the French during their stay here. Among the many squibs against them he said, * It received its name from Pasquino, a sarcastic tailor, who used to work at his shop hard by. Though excessively mutilated, it has evidently been a fine piece of sculpture. This figure is usually supposed to have been an Isis. PASQUIN AND MARFORIO.. 121 On a tremendous storm, which took place after the decrees of Buonaparte were put in force at Rome, the following somewhat profane pasquinade appeared: "L'Altissimo in sù, ci manda la tempesta, L'Altissimo qua giù, toglia quel che resta, Stiamo noi Malissimi."* Canova finished the figure of Italy (a draped statue,) for the tomb of Alfieri, about the time the French overran the country. Soon afterwards the following appeared : "Questa volta Canova l'ha sbagliato, Ha l'Italia vestita, ed e spogliata." One of the best things of the kind, I think, was made on the colonnade in front of Carlton House,† by an Italian, a man of some taste, who, being accustomed to see columns supporting something, or of some use, stood amazed at the sight of this sinecure row, and questioned them as to their employment, thus "6 'Care Colonne che fate quà?" "Non sappiamo in verità," was their innocent reply. But to return to the Palazzo Braschi. As you ascend the staircase, you will be struck with its noble architecture, which is in the most chaste and classical taste. The stairs are led up between a colonnade formed of columns of red Oriental granite, the high polish of which accords well with the lustre of the variegated marbles, of which the stairs and ballustrades are composed, and with the graceful symmetry and just design of the whole. The coup-d'œil, as we mounted it the other night, when brilliantly lighted up for a grand fête given by the Austrian ambassador, was more striking than any thing of the kind I ever saw. * On the visit of the Emperor Francis to Rome in 1819, a pasquinade appeared free from this fault : "Gaudium Urbis. Fletus Provinciarum. Risus Mundi." Formed by a long range of remarkably beautiful, but unmeaning, useless columns. The Colonnade and Palace of course disappeared together. Like most of the noble families of Rome, the Duca di Braschi no longer inhabits his paternal palace. His was the crime of being the nephew of Pius VI., and consequently of opposing the surrender of Rome to French despotism. It was atoned for by the confiscation of his property; and amidst the wreck of his fortune, and the dispersion of his family, the Palazzo Braschi was left in unfinished magnificence. In the gallery of the palace, the bare unplastered walls of which form a striking contrast to its noble proportions, stands the beautiful Colossal Statue of Antinoüs, which was dug up on the site of the ancient Gabii, by the late Gavin Hamilton. Its colossal size was probably the cause why it was not removed to Paris; for the late conquerors of Italy could have had no scruples of conscience in appropriating this statue, if they could conveniently have carried it off, after seizing upon every other piece of sculpture belonging to that unfortunate family that was worth taking. I do not recollect any thing more in this gallery worthy of notice; but my eyes were so entirely engrossed by the matchless beauty of Antinoüs, that I could look at nothing else; and scarcely, as I gazed upon it, could I wonder that Hadrian believed that form to be inhabited by a god. This admirable piece of sculpture is secluded from the public eye by the present inhabitant of this palace, the Austrian minister. As we we were acquainted with him and his amiable family, we had no difficulty in seeing it; but I cannot admire this system of exclusion. PALAZZO GIUSTINIANI. The ancient and wealthy Giustiniani family are now beggars, and their palace is inhabited by strangers. All its fine paintings are gone. We inquired in vain for Poussin's Massacre of the Innocents, Domenichino's St. John the Evangelist, Annibale Carracci's Christ and the Cananean, or Caravaggio's Incredulity of St. Thomas. It would be easier to make a list of what this palace has lost, than what it possesses. There is not a single good painting left. We were VIEW OF THE PANTHEON. 123 shown a great number of frightful daubs, each of which was dignified with the name of some great artist. I once asked the man if he was certain one he called a Domenichino was an original, to which he replied, "Originalissimo, Signora!" This superlatively original painting was so superlatively bad, that it was well the spirit of Domenichino, who, during his life, was accustomed to every insult, could not know this greater opprobium cast upon him after his death. This palace is built upon the ruins of Nero's Baths, and a prodigious quantity of statuary, of all kinds, was found in them, which once adorned its magnificent galleries and spacious halls; but the finest of the statues, like the pictures, have disappeared. An immense number are still standing, in utter confusion, in a set of miserable, unfurnished, dusty, and desolate apartments; and though the most part of the busts and statues are mutilated, and all of them are discoloured and abominably dirty, there are many among them of very fine sculpture. Among these I will only mention the Statue of Marcellus, in the hall, and a youthful male figure, the Torso of which is very fine; but it is badly restored, which, indeed, is the case with many of them. The Etruscan Vestal is not allowed to be Etruscan, and seldom acknowledged to be a Vestal; but she is unquestionably very ancient-too ancient to be perfect. There is an admirable goat close beside her, which I liked much better; and there is the statue of the little Harpocrates, holding up his finger and looking wise--a god I always admire, though I cannot be reckoned among his disciples. Pray, can you tell me why the ancients gave the God of Silence a cornucopia? The best view of the Pantheon is from the windows of this palace. I saw it by moonlight, when the softened light gleamed beautifully in silver lines upon the tall columns of tho portico, more distinctly marked by the dark shade of the intercolumniations, while the serenity of the sky, and the stillness that reigned over every thing, made its beauty more deeply felt. * Winkelman "dares not maintain that it is the work of any Etruscan artist," but thinks it is "perhaps, the most ancient statue in Rome. You will wonder what took me to the Giustiniani Palace at night, but we happened to be dining with Count Funchal, the Portuguese ambassador, who lives there; and, as it was moonlight, I took the opportunity of looking out at the Pantheon; ever since which time, his excellency has enter tained a rooted conviction that I am slightly deranged; and never sees me without asking, if, when the moon is at the full, I will not return to his house to see the Pantheon. "Well, that is what I don't understand," said an Italian Principessa, when he told her of this extraordinary fancy of mine "for, certainly, one can see plainer in the day-time than the night."* PALAZZO BORGHESE. The Palazzo Borghese, one of the largest and handsomest palaces in Rome, is now inhabited only by Pauline, the sister of Buonaparte, and the wife of the Prince Borghese, who himself lives constantly at Florence. This building, which would seem large enough to contain some hundreds of people, is, apparently, too small for a single lady; for there is another, "Il Palazzo della Famiglia Borghese," to which my unlucky stars once conducted me; and its filth and foul odours have left an uneffaceable impression upon the remembrance. The famiglia, in modern as in ancient Roman days, means the servants; and not the domestic servants only, but the tradespeople, all of whom are included in this comprehensive term; and this horrible hole, of which I have been speaking, is inhabited by the artisans who are, as well as by many who are not, employed in the service of the Borghese. When a Roman prince has, or had, a grand entertainment, (for such a thing rarely occurs now,) all the tailors, shoemakers, joiners, carpenters, upholsterers, smiths, and artisans, whom he employed, were dressed out in state liveries, kept for this purpose from generation to generation; and, for the time being, were turned into footmen. Therefore it * Non lo capisco-di certo, si può vedere più chiaro da giorno che da notte. |