440 A VISIT TO ST. PETER'S AT ROME. 



But we must move on, and in fact there is little worth stopping for. 

 This building to the right with the Cipollino columns on the front of 

 the first story, is the Teatro di Apollo, or Opera House ; and as we 

 pass it, the street widens, we arrive at an open space, the green 

 Tiher (I wonder why they called it yellow)* runs immediately 

 beneath our feet, and we must cross the bridge of St. Angelo. What 

 strange things are these statues of angels, which stand on the piers 

 and abutments of the bridge ! Let the admirers of Bernini come 

 here, and see with what infinite humour his own pupils have carica- 

 tured his peculiar style, and that too under his own superintendence. 

 The drapery which hangs about these angelic creatures, seems to be 

 agitated by all the four winds of heaven blowing at once, and they 

 are straining themselves into impossible attitudes, which aim at the 

 line of beauty doubly twisted and circumflexed. It. is really wonder- 

 ful how Bernini could have sculptured so many tolerable works, since 

 I do not remember one which can truly be called either natural or 

 expressive. 



The French intended to clear away the whole of the left-hand side 

 of the street leading from the Castle of St. Angelo to the Piazza di 

 San Pietro, which would have given a finer view of the church than 

 any which can now be obtained. For observe, as we approach the 

 building the cupola disappears behind the lofty fa9ade, in the same 

 manner as the peak of a mountain is hid when you come close under 

 one of its shoulders. The colonnades too produce no adequate effect 

 till you are completely within their area. In proceeding through 

 the usual thoroughfare to view St. Peter's, there is no one first point 

 of view, no surprize, no sudden burst of splendour, as there is at St. 

 Mark's square at Venice, for instance ; but it comes upon you by 

 piecemeal, slowly, and gradually ; and it would be almost worth 

 while to bring a stranger to it round by some of the back lanes, and 

 leading him under the central half of one of the colonnades, say that 

 on the right hand, conduct him thus into the elliptical space, which 

 they embrace within their gigantic curve. But even thus he would 

 see but little effect till he arrived at one of the fountains, those foun- 

 tains that play constantly by day and by night, whether their waters 

 are muddy with melted snow, or clear as the mountain rivulets that 

 supply them ; always running, except for a few hours in the year, 

 while their channels are being cleared from weeds and rubbish. No, 

 the front of St. Peter's excites little astonishment or admiration, and 

 for that again we have to thank II Signer Bernini. The original 

 elevation by Michael Angelo maybe seen painted in fresco over one 

 of the doors in the library of the Vatican, and how infinitely simpler 

 and grander it is, than any thing the present fa9ade can boast of! 



But what a nuisance these beggars are, who are dodging after us 



* The waters of the Tiber are now of a very delicate sea-green : their course, or 

 the strata over which they pass, must have greatly changed since Horace wrote " Vidi- 

 mus flavum Tiberim." We should almost suspect that Ainsworth had made a blunder 

 when he explains " Flavus, a bright yellow like gold, or such as ears of corn have 

 when they are fully ripe," did we not also find in Horace the line, " Credula nee 

 flavos timeant armenta leones" The Arno has now exactly the same tint that the 

 Tiber had in ancient limes. 



