DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.785#0106
4 VEIL—The City. [chap.
true Italian dignity and repose—the otium cum dignitate
of Nature.
Isola is a wretched hamlet of ruinous houses, with not
more than thirty inhabitants. Even the palace, which
belongs to the Rospigliosi family, is falling into decay, and
the next generation will probably find the place unin-
habited. The caverns which yawn in the cliffs around give
a mysterious interest to the spot, and whet the curiosity
to see the antiquities of Veii. In the little piazza are
several relics of Roman domination, sculptural and in-
scriptive.
It is necessary to take Isola on the way to the ancient
city, as the cicerone dwells there. This worthy, " Antonio
Valeri at your service," is a big, burly man, swollen,
you might think, with official dignity, did not his sallow
cheek and haggard look betray the ravages of disease—
the malaria fever, which either emaciates or bloats its
victims.
He who would make the tour of Veii must not expect
to see numerous monuments of the past. Scarcely one
Etruscan site has fewer remains, yet few possess greater
interest. Veii lives in the page of history rather than in
extant monuments ; she has no Colosseum, no Parthenon,
no Pyramids — scarcely a fragment even from which the
antiquarian Cuvier may reconstruct her frame. The very-
skeleton of Veii has crumbled to dust—the city is its own
sepulchre—here, si monumentum requiris—circumspice !
Yet is there no want of interest in a spot so hallowed
by legend and history. The shadow of past glory falls as
solemnly on the spirit as that of temple or tower. It is
something to know and feel that " here was and is " not.
The senses may desire more relics to link the present to
the past; but the imagination need not here be " gravelled
for lack of matter."
true Italian dignity and repose—the otium cum dignitate
of Nature.
Isola is a wretched hamlet of ruinous houses, with not
more than thirty inhabitants. Even the palace, which
belongs to the Rospigliosi family, is falling into decay, and
the next generation will probably find the place unin-
habited. The caverns which yawn in the cliffs around give
a mysterious interest to the spot, and whet the curiosity
to see the antiquities of Veii. In the little piazza are
several relics of Roman domination, sculptural and in-
scriptive.
It is necessary to take Isola on the way to the ancient
city, as the cicerone dwells there. This worthy, " Antonio
Valeri at your service," is a big, burly man, swollen,
you might think, with official dignity, did not his sallow
cheek and haggard look betray the ravages of disease—
the malaria fever, which either emaciates or bloats its
victims.
He who would make the tour of Veii must not expect
to see numerous monuments of the past. Scarcely one
Etruscan site has fewer remains, yet few possess greater
interest. Veii lives in the page of history rather than in
extant monuments ; she has no Colosseum, no Parthenon,
no Pyramids — scarcely a fragment even from which the
antiquarian Cuvier may reconstruct her frame. The very-
skeleton of Veii has crumbled to dust—the city is its own
sepulchre—here, si monumentum requiris—circumspice !
Yet is there no want of interest in a spot so hallowed
by legend and history. The shadow of past glory falls as
solemnly on the spirit as that of temple or tower. It is
something to know and feel that " here was and is " not.
The senses may desire more relics to link the present to
the past; but the imagination need not here be " gravelled
for lack of matter."