Travel
Diary of Mrs. R.P. Eaton:
Europe,
Egypt, and Palestine, ca. 1857
What annihilation of the early Christians, were thrown to the wild beasts, to be torn in pieces amidst the deafening
Travel
Diary of Mrs. R.P. Eaton: |
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granite
and floor of marigated marble, and whose long majestic columns attest the
former splendor of the edifice, to the loud stairway of the Capitol, ascending
which brought us to the site of the ancient Capitol, coupled by the present
edifice, in which are some fine halls of sterling, and where you linger
in admiration before the Dying Gladiator. We ascended the Capitoline Hill
close by the grand Arch of Septimius Serverus, and before us on the right,
were the silent and sullen ruins of the Forum. A few columns, here and there,
are still standing, in exquisite beauty and finish, as if to remind us of
the splendor of the ancient edifice, where Cicero and other orators discoursed
so eloquently to vast assemblies of the people. What grandeur there! What
desolation now! We enter the Pico Sacra, where Horace loved to walk, and
passing on our left the magnificent arches of the Pompile of Peace, we reach
the Triumphant Arch of Titus, built to commemorate his conquest of Jerusalem.
On one of its inner walls we see the relief of a golden candlestick, the
trumpets, and the ark, which the conqueror snatched from the consuming Temple,
and bore as conspicuous spoils in his triumphant procession through Rome.
Who can describe the thoughts awakened by such a sight, at such an hour!
And a little further on eastward, while grand old broken columns, disclosed
by the moonlight, all along the way, we see the lofty and beautiful Arch
of Constantine on our right, and almost directly in front of it rises, in
its majesty – and sublime decay, yet in overwhelming bustness and
grandeur, that kingly ruin and wonder of the world, the Coliseum! As we
approach the entrance, a French Soldier, as sentinel salutes us, and permits
us to enter. We wander over the arena, amid the shadows of the arches and
walls. All is silent and serene. How softly the moonbeams fall on a spot
where, nearly eighteen centuries ago, such strange scenes of excitement
and death were witnessed by assemblies numbering almost a hundred thousand
people! What annihilation of the early Christians, were thrown to the wild beasts, to be torn in pieces amidst the deafening |