public edifices are regarded by too many, and the absolute necessity of
constant, omnipresent watchfulness to preserve them from wanton
dilapidation. Five or six French soldiers had been permitted to ascend
the dome just before I did, and came down nearly at the same time with
me. As I stood gazing down from this point into the church below, two of
these soldiers came in on their way down, and one of them, looking
around to see that no one was present but a stranger, whipped the
bayonet he wore out of its sheath, forced the point into the mosaic
close behind as well as above us, pried out one of the square pieces of
agate or some such stone of which that mosaic is composed, put it in his
pocket and made off. I had no idea that he would deface the edifice
until the moment he did it, and then hastily remonstrated, but of course
without avail. I looked at the wall on which he operated, and found that
two or three had preceded him in the same work of paltry but most
outrageous robbery. Of course, each will boast of his exploit to his
comrades of kindred spirit, and they will be tempted to imitate it,
until the mischief done becomes sufficiently serious to attract
attention, and then Nobody will have a serious reckoning to encounter. A
few acts of unobserved rapine as trifling as these may easily occasion
some signal disaster. In an edifice like this, there should be no point
accessible to visiters unwatched by a faithful guardian even for one
hour.
In the afternoon, I attended the Celebration of High Mass, this being
observed by the Catholic world as St. Peter's Day, and the Pope himself
officiating in the great Cathedral. Not understanding the service, I
could not profit by it, and the spectacle impressed me unfavorably. Such
a multiplicity of spears and bayonets seem to me strangely out of
keeping in a place of worship; if they belong here, why not bring in a
regiment of horse and a park of artillery as well? There is ample room
for them in St. Peter's, and the cavalry might charge and the cannoniers
fire a few volleys with little harm to the building, and with great
increase both to the numbers and interest of the audience. I am not
pretending to judge this for others, but simply to state how it
naturally strikes one educated in the simple, sober observances of
Puritan New-England. I have heard of Protestants being converted in
Rome, but it seems to me the very last place where the great body of
those educated in really Protestant ways would be likely to undergo
conversion. I have seen very much here to admire, and there is doubtless
many times more such that I have not seen, but the radical antagonism of
Catholic and Protestant ideas, observances and tendencies never before
stood out in a light so clear and strong as that shed upon it by a few
days in Rome. I obtained admission yesterday to the Sistine Chapel of
the Vatican, and saw there, among the paintings in fresco, a
representation of the death of Admiral Coligny at the Massacre of St.
Bartholomew; and if this were not intended to express approval of that
horrible massacre, I would like to know what was meant by having it
painted and placed there.
But to return to St. Peter's. The entrance of the grand procession from
the Vatican was a very slow process. In its ranks were the Noble Guard,
the Swiss Guard, the Cardinals, and many other divisions, each in its
own imposing and picturesque costume. At length came the Pope, seated in
a magnificent chair on a raised platform or palanquin, the whole borne
on the shoulders of some ten or twelve servitors. This was a capital
arrangement for us strangers, who wished a good view of His Holiness;
but I am sure it was very disagreeable to him, and that he would much
rather have walked like the rest. He passed into the church out of my
sight, dismounted, and I (having also entered) next saw him approach one
of the altars on the right, where he knelt and silently prayed for some
minutes. He was then borne onward to his throne at the further end, and
the service commenced.
The singing of the Mass was very good. The Pope's reading I did not
hear, nor was I near enough even to see him, except fitfully. I think
there were more than five thousand persons present, including a
thousand priests and a thousand soldiers. There would doubtless have
been many more, but for the fact that a smart shower occurred just
before and at the hour (5 o'clock), while no public notice had been
given that the Pope would officiate.
In the evening, St. Peter's and its accessories were illuminated--by far
the most brilliant spectacle I ever saw. All was dark and silent till,
at the first stroke of the bell, light flashed from a hundred thousand
burners, and the entire front of the Church and Dome, up to the very
summit of the spire, was one magnificent galaxy, while the double row of
gigantic pillars or columns surrounding the square was in like manner
radiant with jets of flame. I thought the architecture of St. Peter's
Rome's greatest glory when I had only seen it by daylight, yet it now
seemed more wondrous still. The bells rang sweetly and stirringly
throughout the evening, and there was a like illumination on the summit
of the Pincian Hill, while most of the shops and dwellings displayed at
least one row of burning candles, and bonfires blazed brightly in the
streets, which were alive with moving, animated groups, while the square
of St. Peter's and the nearest bridges over the Tiber were black with
excited thousands. To-night we have fire-works from the Pincian in honor
of St. Peter, which would be thought in New England an odd way of
honoring an Apostle, especially on Sunday evening; but whether Rome or
Boston is right on this point is a question to be pondered.
_P. S. Monday._--I did not see the Fire-Works last evening, but almost
every one else in Rome did, and the unanimous verdict pronounces them
admirable--extraordinary. Great preparations had been made, and the
success must have been perfect to win so general and hearty a
commendation. The display was ushered in by a rousing salute of
artillery; but this was not needed to assemble in and around the Piazza
del Popolo all the population of Rome that could be spared from their
homes. The Piazza is the great square of Rome, in front of the Pincian
Hill, whence the rockets, wheels, stars, serpents, &c., were let off.
The display was not concluded till after 10 o'clock.
This day I have devoted to famous private galleries of Paintings and
Sculpture, having been again disappointed in attempting to gain a sight
of the Apollo Belvedere and Picture Gallery of the Vatican. The time for
opening these treasures to the public has lately been changed from 10
A. M. to noon, and they are only open regularly on Mondays; so
that I was there a little before noon to be ready; but after waiting
(with many others) a full hour, in front of an inexorable gate, without
being able to learn why we were shut out or when the embargo would
cease, I grew weary of the uncertainty and waste of time, and left. A
little past 1 (I now understand), the gate was opened, but too late for
me, as I did not return, and leave Rome for Florence to-morrow. Had the
simplest notice been given that such a delay would take place, or had
the officers at the gates been able to give any information, I should
have had different luck. "They manage these things better in France."
XXVI.
THE ROMANS OF TO-DAY.
ROME, Monday, June 30, 1851.
The common people of Rome generally seem to me an intelligent, vivacious
race, and I can readily credit the assurance of well-informed friends
that they are mentally superior to most other Italians. It may be deemed
strange that any other result should be thought possible, since the very
earth around them, with all it bears, is so vivified with the spirit of
Heroism, of Genius, and of whatever is most memorable in History. But
the legitimate influences of Nature, of Art, and of Ancestry, are often
overborne by those of Institutions and Laws, as is now witnessed on all
the eastern and southern coasts of the Mediterranean, and I was rather
disappointed in finding the present Romans a race of fully average
capacities, intellectual and physical. A face indicating mental
imbecility, or even low mediocrity, is very rarely met in those streets
where the greater portion of the Romans seem to work and live. The women
are brown, plain, bare-headed, and rather careless of personal
appearance, but ready at repartee, self-possessed, energetic, with
flashing eyes and countenances often indicating a depth of emotion and
character. I do not think such pictures as abound in Rome could have
been painted where the women were common-place and unideal.
But all with whom I can converse, and who are qualified to speak by
residence in the country, give unfavorable accounts of the moral
qualities of the Romans especially, and in these qualities I include
Patriotism and all the civic virtues. That Italians, and those of Rome
especially, are quite commonly sensual, selfish, indolent, fickle,
dishonest, vicious, is the general report of the foreigners residing
among them. Zealous Protestants will readily account for it by their
Catholicism. My own prepossessions naturally lead me to the conclusion
that much of the religious machinery in operation here is unfavorable to
the development of high moral character. Whatever the enlightened and
good may mean by these observances, it does seem to me that the ignorant
and vulgar understand that the evil consequences of pleasant sins may be
cheaply avoided by a liberal use of holy water, by bowings before the
altar and reverent conformity to rituals and ceremonies.--This is
certainly the great danger (in my sight) of the Catholic system, that it
may lead its votaries to esteem conformity to outward and ceremonial
requirements as essentially meritorious, and in some sense an offset for
violations of the moral law. Not that this error is by any means
confined to Catholics, for Christendom is full of Protestants who,
though ready enough to proclaim that kissing the toe of St. Peter's
statue is a poor atonement for violating the Commandments, and Adoration
of the Virgin a very bad substitute for Chastity, do yet themselves
prefer bad Christians to good Infidels, and would hail with joy the
conversion of India or China to their creed, though it should involve no
improvement of character or life. I know every one believes that such
conversion would inevitably result in amendment of heart and morals, but
how many desire it mainly for that reason? How large a proportion of
Protestants esteem it the great end of Religion to make its votaries
better husbands, brothers, children, neighbors, kindred, citizens? To my
Protestant eyes, it seems that the general error on this point is more
prevalent and more vital at Rome than elsewhere; and I have been trying
to recollect, among all the immensity of Paintings, Mosaic and Statuary
I have seen here, representing St. Peter in Prison, St. Peter on the
Sea of Galilee, St. Peter healing the Cripple, St. Peter raising the
Dead, St. Peter receiving the Keys, St. Peter suffering Martyrdom, &c.
&c. (some of them many times over), I have any where met with a
representation of that most remarkable and beneficent vision whereby the
Apostle was instructed from Heaven that "Of a truth, I perceive that God
is no respecter of persons, but in every nation he that feareth Him and
worketh righteousness is accepted with Him." I presume such a
representation must exist in a city where there are so many hundreds if
not thousands of pictures of St. Peter doing, receiving or suffering;
but this certainly is not a favorite subject here, or I should have seen
it many times depicted. Who knows a Protestant city in which the
aforesaid lesson given to Peter has been adequately dwelt on and heeded?
That the prevalence of Catholicism is not inconsistent with general
uprightness and purity of morals is demonstrated in Ireland, in
Switzerland, in Belgium, in the Tyrol, and elsewhere. The testimony of
the great body of travelers and other observers with regard to the
countries just named, affirms the general prevalence therein of those
virtues which are the basis of the Family and the Church. And yet, the
acknowledged state of things here is a grave fact which challenges
inquiry and demands explanation. In the very metropolis of Catholic
Christendom, where nearly all believe, and a great majority are at least
ceremonially devout--where many of the best intellects in the Catholic
communion have flourished and borne sway for more than fifteen
centuries, and with scarcely a divided empire for the last thousand
years--where Churches and Priests have long been more abundant than on
any other spot of earth, and where Divine worship and Christian
ordinances are scarcely intermitted for an hour, but are free and
welcome to all, and are very generally attended--what is the reason that
corruption and degeneracy should be so fearfully prevalent? If only the
enemies of Rome's faith affirmed this degeneracy, we might fairly
suppose it invented or exaggerated; but even the immediate Priesthood of
this people, who may be presumed most unwilling and unlikely to deny
their virtues or magnify their vices, declare them unfit to be trusted
with power over their own political destinies, and indeed incapable of
self-government. Such is the fundamental basis and essential
justification of the rule now maintained in Rome, under the protection
of foreign bayonets. This is a conquered city, virtually if not
nominally in a state of siege, without assignable period. The Pope's
guards are partly Swiss and partly native, that is, chosen from the
families of the Nobility; but the "power behind the throne" is
maintained by the thousands of French soldiers who garrison the city,
and the tens of thousands of Austrian, Spanish and Neapolitan soldiers
who would be pushed here upon the first serious attempt of the Romans to
assert their right of self-government. Thus, "Order reigns in Warsaw,"
while Democracy bites its lip and bides its time.
Has Human Nature degenerated under Christian ministrations? There surely
_was_ a Roman people, some twenty-odd centuries ago, who were capable of
self-government, and who maintained it long and creditably. Why should
it be otherwise with the Romans of to-day? I do not believe it is. They
have great vices I admit, for all testimony affirms it; that they might
somewhat abuse Freedom I fear, for the blessed sunshine is painful and
perilous to eyes long used to the gloom of the dungeon. But the
experience of Freedom must tend to dispel the ignorance and correct the
errors of its votaries, while Slavery only leads from bad to worse. If
ten centuries of such rule as now prevails here have nowise qualified
this people for Self-Government, what rational hope is there that ten
more such would do it? If a reform is ever to be effected, it cannot be
commenced too soon.
As to the actual government of Rome and her dependencies, it could not
well be worse. The rulers fully understand that they are under no
obligation to the people for the power they exercise, nor for the
submission which it commands. The despotism which prevails is unmodified
even by the hereditary despot's natural desire to secure the throne to
his descendants by cultivating the good will of his people. The Pope is
nominally sovereign, and all regard him as personally a pure and good
man; but he exerts no actual power in the State, his time and thoughts
being wholly devoted to the various and complicated cares of his vast
Spiritual empire. Meantime, the Reaectionist influences so omnipotent
with his predecessor, but which were repressed for a time after the
present Pontiff's accession, have unchecked sway in the political
administration. The way the present rulers of Rome read History is
this--"Pius IX. came into power a Liberal and a Reformer, and did all he
could for the promotion of Republican and Progressive ideas; for all
which his recompense was the assassination of his Prime Minister, and
his own personal expulsion from his throne and territories--which is
quite enough of Liberalism for one generation; we, at least, will have
no more of it." And they certainly live up to their resolution. It is
currently reported that there are now _Seventeen Thousand_ political
prisoners confined here, but nobody who would tell can know how many
there are, and I presume this statement is a gross exaggeration,
significant only as an index of the popular feeling. The essential fact
is that there _might_ be Seventeen or Seventy Thousand thus imprisoned
without publicity, known accusation or trial, save at the convenience of
those ordering their arrest; and with no recognized right of the
arrested to Habeas Corpus or any kindred process. Many of the best
Romans of the age are in exile for Liberty's sake. I was reliably
informed at Turin that there are at this time _Three Hundred Thousand_
Political Refugees in the Kingdom of Sardinia, nearly all, of course,
from the despotism of Lower Italy. Thus Europe is kept tranquil by a
system of terror, which is efficient while the spell holds; but let it
break at any point, and all will go together.
The Cardinals are the actual directors of State affairs here, and are
popularly held responsible for all that is disliked in the Government.
They would be likely to fare roughly in case of another revolution. They
are privately accused of flagrant immoralities, as men so powerful and
so unpopular would naturally be, whether with or without cause. I know
no facts that sustain the accusation.
A single newspaper is now published in Rome, but I have heard it
inquired for or mentioned but once since I came here, and then by a
Scotchman studying Italian. It is ultra-despotic in its spirit, and
would not be tolerated if it were not. It is a small, coarsely printed
sheet, in good part devoted to Church news, giving great prominence to
the progress of conversion from the English to the Romish communion.
There are very few foreign journals taken or read in the Roman States.
Lynn or Poughkeepsie probably, Newark or New-Haven certainly, buys and
reads more newspapers than the entire Three Millions of People who
inhabit the Papal States. I could not learn to relish such a state of
things. I have just paid $3.70 (more than half of it to our American
Consul) for the privilege of leaving the dominions of His Holiness, and
shall speedily profit by the gracious permission.
XXVII.
CENTRAL ITALY--FLORENCE.
BOLOGNA, July 6, 1851.
"See Naples and die!" says the proverb: but I am in no hurry to "shuffle
off this mortal coil," and rather weary of seeing. I think I should have
found a few choice friends in Naples, but my time is limited, and the
traveling through Southern Italy neither pleasant nor expeditious. Of
Vesuvius in its milder moods I never had a high opinion; and, though I
should have liked to tread the unburied streets of Pompeii, yet Rome has
nearly surfeited me with ruins. So I shortened my tour in Italy by
cutting off the farther end of it, and turned my face obliquely homeward
from the Eternal City. What has the world to show of by-gone glory and
grandeur which she cannot at least equal?
Let no one be sanguine as to his good resolutions. I as firmly resolved,
when I first shook from my feet the dust of Civita Vecchia, that I never
again would enter its gates, as I ever did to do or forbear any act
whatever. But, after a tedious and ineffectual attempt to make up a
party of Americans to come through from Rome to Florence direct, I was
at last obliged to knock under. All the seats by Diligence or Mail on
that route were taken ahead for a longer time than I could afford to
wait; and offers to fill an extra coach if the proprietors would send
one were utterly unavailing. Such a thing as Enterprise is utterly
unknown south of Genoa, and the idea of any obligation on the part of
proprietors of stage-lines to make extra efforts to accommodate an extra
number of passengers is so queer that I doubt whether Italian could be
found to express it. So some dozen or more who would gladly have gone
through by land to Florence were driven back upon Civita Vecchia and
Leghorn--I among the number.
Three of us left Rome in a private carriage at noon on Tuesday the 1st,
and reached Civita Vecchia at 10 minutes past 9 P. M.--the
inner gate having been closed at 9. One of my companions was known and
responsibly connected at the port, and so was enabled to negotiate our
admission, though the process was a tedious one, and our carriage had to
be left in the outer court, or between the two walls. Here I left it at
10; it may have been got in afterward. We found all the rooms taken at
the best Hotel (Orlandi), and were driven to accept such as there were
left. The boat (Languedoc) was advertised to start for Leghorn at 7 next
morning, by which time I succeeded in getting my Passport cleared (for
no steamboat in these waters will give you a permit to embark until you
have handed in your Passport, duly cleared, at its office, as well as
paid for your passage); but the boat was coolly taking in water long
after its advertised hour, and did not start until half past eight.
We had an unusually large number of passengers, about one hundred and
fifty, representing nearly every European nation, with a goodly number
of Americans; the day was cloudy and cool; the wind light and
propitious; the sea calm and smooth; so that I doubt if there was ever a
more favorable passage. I was sick myself, a result of the night-air of
the Campagna, bad lodging and inability to obtain a salt-water bath in
the morning, by reason of the Passport nuisance, but for which I should
have been well and hearty. We made Leghorn (120 miles) in about eleven
hours, which is very good time for the Mediterranean. But reaching the
harbor of Leghorn was one thing, getting ashore quite another; an hour
or more elapsed before any of us had permission to land. I was one of
the two first who got off, through the preconcerted interposition of a
powerful Leghorn friend who had procured a special permit from the
Police, and at whose hospitable mansion we passed the night. I was
unwell throughout; but an early bath in the Mediterranean was the
medicine I required, and from the moment of taking it I began to
recover. By seasonable effort, I recovered my Passport from the Police
office, duly _vised_, at 10 A. M. and left by Railroad for
Florence at 10 1/2, reaching the capital of Tuscany (60 miles) about 1
o'clock, P. M.
Florence (Italian _Firenze_) is pleasantly situated on both sides of the
Arno, some forty miles in a direct line from its mouth. The river is
here about the size of the Hudson at Sandy Hill or the Mohawk at
Canajoharie, but subject to rapid swellings from rains in the Apennines
above. One such occurred the night I was there, though very little rain
fell at Florence. I was awakened in the night by the rushing and roaring
of its waters, my window having only a street between it and the river,
which subsided the next day, without having done any material damage.
That day was the 4th of July, and I spent most of it, under the guidance
of friends resident at Florence, in looking through the galleries
devoted to Paintings and Statuary in the two famous palaces of the
reigning family and in the Academy. Although the collections embrace the
Venus de Medicis and many admirable Paintings, I cannot say that my
expectations were fully realized. Ill health may in part account for
this; my recent acquaintance with the immense and multiform treasures of
Art at Rome may also help explain my obtuseness at Florence. And yet I
saw nothing in Rome with greater pleasure or profit than I derived from
the hour I spent in the studio of our countryman POWERS, whose fame is
already world-wide, and who I trust is now rapidly acquiring that generous
competence which will enable him to spend the evening of his days in ease
and comfort in his native land. The abundance of orders constantly pouring
in upon him at his own prices does not induce him to abandon nor postpone
his efforts in the ideal and more exalted sphere of his art, but rather to
redouble those efforts; and it will yet be felt that his "Greek Slave" and
"Fisher Boy," so widely admired, are not his loftiest achievements. I defy
Antiquity to surpass--I doubt its ability to rival--his "Proserpine" and
his "Psyche" with any models of the female head that have come down to us;
and while I do not see how they could be excelled in their own sphere, I
feel that Powers, unlike Alexander, has still realms to conquer, and will
fulfill his destiny. If for those who talk of America quitting her proper
sphere and seeking to be Europe when she wanders into the domain of Art,
we had no other answer than POWERS, that name would be conclusive.