. The spell of Italy. Here and there larks rose singingfrom the poppy starred wheat-fields and soared upinto the infinite blue above us. From the clear purity of the morning without thewalls we drove back into the stir and noise of Romejust beginning its day. Once more we passed bythe Arch of Constantine and the CoHseum, and sawin the distance the pillars of the Forum. Then Fihabade the cocchiere drive home by the Fountain ofTrevi, where we stopped. Yes, I remarked, gazing at the highly allegori-cal and fantastic front, I see and I have seen itfrequently. It is bad art, thrice dead Renaissance
. The spell of Italy. Here and there larks rose singingfrom the poppy starred wheat-fields and soared upinto the infinite blue above us. From the clear purity of the morning without thewalls we drove back into the stir and noise of Romejust beginning its day. Once more we passed bythe Arch of Constantine and the CoHseum, and sawin the distance the pillars of the Forum. Then Fihabade the cocchiere drive home by the Fountain ofTrevi, where we stopped. Yes, I remarked, gazing at the highly allegori-cal and fantastic front, I see and I have seen itfrequently. It is bad art, thrice dead Renaissance,done by a follower of Bernini gone mad in marble,as Hawthorne says. Why do you wish to look atit again? Filia, who had now alighted from the carozza, calledback: I am not looking at it, I am taking a last draughtof it from my Sorrento cup, and I am about to throwa soldo into the basin to make sure that I return toRome. This ritual of the traveller completed, we drovehome by way of the Quirinal for a last look at the. APPIAN WAY. White and Black 149 statues of the Obelisk, the Dioscuri with their horses,which may be counterfeits of Phidias but are nodoubt thriUing and stirring figures and finely the afternoon, according to an earher agree-ment, we met Cousin Lucretias artist friend in theCarthusian Cloisters of the Thermae of I strolled alone for a little space in the lovelycourtyard, filled with roses, the strange irony ofjuxtaposition smote upon me poignantly. Here weretwo twentieth-century, Protestant, American womenasked in most casual fashion, in the city of Rome, tomeet a friend in the Sixteenth-century CarthusianCloisters, founded by Pope Pius IV, laid out byMichelangelo within the enclosure of the Baths ofDiocletian! The vast Thermae, the largest in Rome,were built for the Emperor by 40,000 Christianworkmen, for in the year 302 Rome was obscurely,but surely, thronged with followers of the Emperor, in the years immediately followin
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