n is more closely connected with morality than is generally
believed, and should not be offended. Among so many tombs which strike
our sight, names are ascribed to some without any positive certainty;
but even the emotion which this uncertainty inspires will not permit us
to contemplate any of these monuments with indifference. There are some
in which houses for the peasantry are built; for the Romans consecrated
an extensive space and vast edifices to the funereal urns of their
friends or their illustrious fellow-citizens. They were not influenced
by that dry principle of utility which fertilized a few corners of the
earth, while blasting with sterility the vast domain of sentiment and of
thought.

At some distance from the Appian way is seen a temple, raised by the
republic to Honour and Virtue; another to the god who caused Hannibal to
turn back, and also the fountain of Egeria, where Numa went to consult
the god of all good men,--conscience interrogated in solitude. It seems
that about these tombs no traces but those of virtue have subsisted. No
monument of the ages of crime is to be found by the side of those where
repose the illustrious dead; they are surrounded by an honourable space,
where the noblest memories may preserve their reign undisturbed.

The aspect of the country about Rome has something in it singularly
remarkable: undoubtedly it is a desert, for it contains neither trees
nor habitation; but the earth is covered with wild plants which the
energy of vegetation incessantly renews. These parasitic plants glide
among the tombs, adorn the ruins, and seem only there to honour the
dead. One would say, that proud Nature has rejected all the labours of
man, since Cincinnatus no longer guided the plough which furrowed her
bosom. She produces plants by chance, without permitting the living to
make use of her riches. These uncultivated plains must be displeasing to
the agriculturist, to administrators, to all those who speculate upon
the earth, and who would lay it under contribution to supply the wants
of man. But pensive minds, which are occupied as much by death as by
life, take pleasure in contemplating this Roman Campagna upon which the
present age has imprinted no trace; this land which cherishes its dead,
and covers them lovingly with useless flowers, with useless plants which
creep upon the earth, and never rise sufficiently to separate themselves
from the ashes which they appear to caress.

Oswald agr