June 8th, 1830
Last night to the La Ferronays’, when the Princess Aldobrandini was so delighted with the anecdote of my horse-shoe that she is gone off to the Pantheon to look at it. It was a full moon and a clear night, so I went to the Coliseum, and passed an hour there. I never saw it so well; the moon rode above without a cloud, but with a brilliant planet close to her; there was not a breath of air, not a human being near but the soldiers at the gates below, and the monk above with me; not a sound was heard but those occasional noises of the night, the bark of a dog, the chimes from churches and convents, the chirp of a bird, which only served to make silence audible. Though I have seen the Coliseum a dozen times before, I never was so delighted with its beauty and grandeur as to-night. No description in poetry or painting can do it justice; it is a ‘wreck of ruinous perfection,’ whose charm must be felt, and on such a night as this. The measures which the Government have taken to save the Coliseum from destruction will certainly accomplish that end, but its picturesque appearance will be greatly damaged. There is no part of the ruin which is not already supported by some modern brickwork, and they are building a wall which will nearly surround it. If they had been more selfish they would have left it to moulder away, and posterity to grumble over their stinginess or indifference. I am always tossed backwards and forwards between admiration of the Coliseum and St. Peter’s, and admire most that which I see last. They are certainly ‘magis pares quam similes,’ but worth everything else in Italy put together, except Pæstum.
To-day the spiritual arms of the Church are to be fulminated against a sinner in a case which is rather curious. There are two brothers who live at a place called Genezzano, in two adjoining houses, which formerly formed but one, belonging to the Colonna family, of whom the progenitors of these men bought it. A short time ago a man came to the brothers, and told them that in a particular spot on the premises there was a treasure concealed, the particulars of which he had learned from a memorandum in the papers of the Colonna family, to which he had got access, and he proposed to discover the same to them, if they would give him a part of it. They agreed, when he told them that under a little column built against a wall they would find a flat brick, covering a hole, in which was an earthen pot EXCOMMUNICATION OF A THIEF containing 2,000 ducats in gold. The column was there, so at night the brothers set to work to take it down, and beneath it they found the flat stone as described. When one of them (an apothecary) said to the other that, after all, it was probably an invention, that they should be laughed at for their pains, and he thought they had better give up the search, the other (who must be a great flat) said, ‘Very well,’ and they retired to bed. In the morning the apothecary told the other that in the night he could not help thinking of this business, and that his curiosity had induced him to get up and dig on, and that he had actually found the pot, but nothing in it. The other, flat as he was, could not stand this, and, on examining the pot, he found marks which, on further investigation, turned out to be indications of coin having been in it. The thief stuck to his story, so the dupe complained, and, as the presumption is considered to be strongly against him, they are going to try what excommunication will do. It is remarkable that they asked this man if he would swear upon the Host that he had not found any money, and this he refused to do, though he continued to deny it and to decline restitution. He was accounted a very religious man, and these were religious scruples, which, however, were not incompatible with robbery and fraud. His refusal to swear was taken as a moral evidence of guilt, and he was to be excommunicated to-day.