iron gate of the Villa Medici on the Pincio, where it left its mark.

In the year 1825, important excavations were made in the interior of the Castle, which led to very interesting discoveries. For these we are indebted to the enterprise of Luigi Baveri, then major and adjutant in the Castle. The result of his labours was to expose the great sepulchral chamber in the centre of the Mausoleum, then choked up with rubbish, and also to bring to light the long spiral corridor leading thereto, the existence of which was not known. Letting himself down a drop-hole called a trabocchetto within the Castle, he discovered first a superb vault of travertine, the walls of which were covered with giallo antico marble. This proved to be the great entrance to the Mausoleum, into which opened a majestic door on one side, opposite to the Aelian Bridge. On the inner side was a lofty niche, wherein once probably stood the statue of Hadrian. The whole entrance was choked with rubbish and debris of every kind, to the height of about 20 palms, or 15 feet English. This, by his directions, was at once cleared away, and then was discovered on the right hand an ancient walled-up arch. Suspecting this to mask something of importance, he broke it down and came upon the ancient corridor, which was filled with refuse; and clearing it out before him gradually, he at last opened it through its entire extent. In so doing he came upon two hideous dungeons called the Gemelli, which occupied the centre of the building, both of which were destroyed. They only had an entrance from above, and into them the prisoners were apparently let down through trombe or funnels, four of which were found, which are now blocked up. Once within them, no person could hope for anything but death. On destroying these ghastly dun

geons, which were in the buildings of Alexander VI., the magnificent sepulchral chamber of Hadrian was exposed to view, covered with pavonazzo marble. Continuing his explorations, he also discovered a second antique chamber of the same periphery as that below, and above these two others, vaulted, and of smaller periphery. Besides the Gemelli, other dungeons were found, and under the floors oubliettes, to the number of thirty, which can only be seen by lowering into them torches, and only two of them having entrances from below. What horrors were perpetrated here Heaven only knows.

Little more remains to be said of the Castle; but that it is still a prison, and still a fortress, and well worthy to be seen from within as well as from without, not only for the sake of its interesting historical associations, but for the magnificent view which it commands. There, standing under its porticoes, or leaning over the battlements that gird its lofty terrace, you may gaze along the broad and varied plains of the Campagna, stretching far away until they meet the purple mountains with their wandering shadows and opaline lights, or look down upon the yellow-tiled roofs of Rome that lie before you, picturesque with tower, and dome, and portico, and palace; or watch at your feet the yellow Tiber swiftly hurrying through the arches of the statued bridge, and swerving to the right as it shakes on its flashing current the shadows of the houses on its margin—and muse over the past. In the piazza over the bridge at your feet the beautiful Beatrice Cenci was executed. The house at the corner of the bridge, with its triple-arched and graceful loggia, over the river, was the home of Bindo Altoviti, the friend of Raffaelle, where Michel Angelo and Benvenuto Cellini and others, whose names are historic, once

used to meet and talk. Opposite is the opera, where rose the Tor di Nona, with its prison. On the south swells up against the sky the massive dome of St Peter's, with the wide embracing arms of Bernini's Colonnade, that enclose the vast piazza with its Egyptian obelisk and its waving fountains. Behind them rise the buildings of the Vatican Palace, with the storied loggia of Raffaelle, where still live the marble population of ancient Rome; and beyond is Monte Mario, with its wooded slopes and villas. Opposite, on the north, lies the Pincian hill and the Villa Medici, with its gardens and terraces; then come the villa of Sallust, the Palazzo Barberini, and the Quirinal; and still further round you look into the ruined columns and arches of the Forum, the broken shell of the Colosseum, the giant walls of Caracalla's baths, the huge vertebræ of ancient aqueducts stretched along the Campagna. On a bright day, far off on the verge of the horizon, you will see the flashing band of the Mediterranean. As the eye sweeps round it meets the tumbling waters of the Aqua Paolo, pouring from their triple niches, and then the convent heights of San Onofio, where Tasso died. There is not a spot that meets the eye that is not historic.

Step back into the interior of the castle. There is the great Council Hall, with its frescoed walls, where many a judgment has been given; but more than all else in the room you will perhaps be struck by the portrait of Farinacci, the determined advocate of Beatrice Cenci, a fulllength figure in a black-silk dress coming in at a half-open door. You pass out of this into a series of rooms, and then ascend the principal staircase. On one side is the old statue of the marble archangel, with its skeleton wings, standing in a niche. You turn an abrupt angle and the guide points to a little grat

ed window and says, "That is the prison of Cagliostro." You look in; it is damp, and dark, and dismal. Then you go on again up the stairs, and cross an open court, and lean over the battlements again and muse. The guide plucks from the clefts in the wall some sprigs of madrecaria (motherwort), and presents them to you. It is a graceful attention, but you know not exactly why he has selected this plant until he answers your thanks by saying: "Eh! niente! e buono si sa, pel puzzo della pregione." It is good against the odour of the prisons that are to come. So you climb up some more stairs, and come upon another cortile with marble cannon - balls piled against the wall, and you wonder whether, as they say, these cannonballs were made out of the statues that once adorned the Mausoleum. You express your wonder, and receive the satisfactory answer of "Chilo sa," and a shrug. Then you find yourself on a covered loggia with arches overlooking the Campagna behind the city, with Monte Mario on the left, painted, you are told, by Julio Romano, with graceful designs, flowers and allegorical figures, and among them a representation of the Mausoleum as it is supposed to have been in its ancient days, but as it probably was not. Here you would willingly linger all the afternoon, it is so shady and pleasant, and the breeze is so cool and the prospect is so lovely. These, however, are not the views of your guide, who grudges you the moments you spend on the decorations and the landscape, and hurries you on, expectant of his final reward. Then you cross another court, and out of grated windows you see haggard faces looking at you with a sort of stupid curiosity. "Prigionieri," says the guide, with a nod. While you are thinking of them, he is lighting torches, and in a moment you find yourself creeping behind him down & dark, damp, slimy stairway, lighted

mandant of the Castle lives, and from there, if you choose, you may go up to the secret prisons under the angel on the summit. From here you

by these torches, and you begin to understand why the sprigs of motherwort were given to you. Slowly preceding you with his torch, along a chill, dark corridor, he suddenly dwarfs himself to half his height, and creeps through an arched hole, and you all creep in after him. There is a damp, noisome, fetid smell of dead air in it; the walls ooze with moisture. Here, says the guide, Beatrice Cenci was imprisoned, and through there, pointing to a hole in the vault above, her food was let down to her. Where is the use in not believing this? If not here, she was probably immured in some such a hole; for prisons were then dungeons, and not airy, ventilated chambers. Beyond this you pass into another dungeon, the fac-simile of the first-a filthy hole, about thirteen feet square-where you are told that Lucrezia, the mother-in-law of Beatrice, was confined; and still beyond you find a third, where Benvenuto Cellini was kept; and the guide, holding the torch to the wall, shows you a figure of Christ, still dimly visible, and drawn by Benvenuto during his imprisonment. Filthy and unpleasant enough are these dungeons now, but probably they were not so loathsome once; for originally there was a narrow window, the outline of which you still see, which let in from the Castle a dim light, answering to Benvenuto's description. Still, you are glad enough to get out into the fresh air again, and see the clear sky above you. Crossing the Castle once more, you now enter the hall painted by Giulio Romano, and look at the graceful frieze with its seanymphs and decaying stuccos, and think that the Pope was better off here than the prisoners in the cells you have just left. Opening out of this are other rooms, where the com

ascend to the upper terrace, where you look over the Campagna and Rome, and a more lovely view it would be difficult to find; and you learn that there is an arsenal here for the manufacture of gun-carriages and for the keeping of 2000 arms, and that it formerly contained 5000 arms, and among them was the famous gun of Constable Bourbon. After lingering on the terrace and looking up at the angel above and over the city below, you are carried down again into the massive sepulchral chamber where the ashes of the ancient emperors were placed, robbed of its casing of precious marbles, but solid in its masonry, as if the stones had just been laid. Passing through this, you come to the corridor which once conducted to this chamber, and down which you go by the dim light a little way, and find that there are fragments of the mosaic pavement still existing, and that the brickwork, from which the marble has all been stripped, is fresh and even and perfect as ever. Here you pause; it is getting damp and chill as you descend, and fever lurks below. The guide seizes a cannon-ball, and saying "Ascolti" (listen), rolls it down. You hear it rumble and leap with a low echoing thunder, down, and down, and down, sweeping the circle of the corridor and sounding far away till it reaches the vaulted chamber below which once was the hall of entrance. are led back over moat, and drawbridge, and causeways, and court, until at last you pass by the main entrance, now closed up, and over which is now the head of Christ, and come forth out of the Past into the Present.

Then you

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