the permanence of their institutions; but they still seemed to build for
eternity, in the reigns of the emperors, when neither rulers nor people
had any faith or moral substance, or laid any earnest grasp on life.

Reaching the top of the Capitoline Hill, we ascended the steps of the
portal of the Palace of the Senator, and looked down into the piazza,
with the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius in the centre of it. The
architecture that surrounds the piazza is very ineffective; and so, in my
opinion, are all the other architectural works of Michael Angelo,
including St. Peter's itself, of which he has made as little as could
possibly be made of such a vast pile of material. He balances everything
in such a way that it seems but half of itself.

We soon descended into the piazza, and walked round and round the statue
of Marcus Aurelius, contemplating it from every point and admiring it in
all. . . . . On these beautiful moonlight nights, Rome appears to keep
awake and stirring, though in a quiet and decorous way. It is, in fact,
the pleasantest time for promenades, and we both felt less wearied than
by any promenade in the daytime, of similar extent, since our residence
in Rome. In future, I mean to walk often after nightfall.

Yesterday, we set out betimes, and ascended the dome of St. Peter's. The
best view of the interior of the church, I think, is from the first
gallery beneath the dome. The whole inside of the dome is set with
mosaic-work, the separate pieces being, so far as I could see, about half
an inch square. Emerging on the roof, we had a fine view of all the
surrounding Rome, including the Mediterranean Sea in the remote distance.
Above us still rose the whole mountain of the great dome, and it made an
impression on me of greater height and size than I had yet been able to
receive. The copper ball at the summit looked hardly bigger than a man