PORTA PIA MEETINGS. THE ANTI-SMOKE MOVEMENT.
Straws show which way the wind blows, and so, though the straws
themselves are valueless, yet as indications of what is coming, their
motions are worth noting. It is thus that I judge of the series of
demonstrations which marked the spring of this year in Rome, and which
ended in the outrage of St Joseph's day. Of themselves they were less
than worthless, but as tokens of the future they possess a value of their
own. In recent Papal history they form a strange page. Let me note
their features briefly, as I wrote of them at the time.
January 28.
At last there is a break in the dull uniformity of Roman life.--There is
a ripple on the waters, whether the precursor of a tempest, or to be
followed by a dead calm, it is hard to tell. Meanwhile it is some gain
at any rate, that the old corpse-like city should show signs of life,
however transient. Feeble as those symptoms are, let us make the most of
them.
Since the Imperial occupation of Rome, the building in the Piazza
Colonna, which old Roman travellers remember as the abode of the Post
Office, has been confiscated to the service of the French army. It
forms, in fact, a sort of military head-quarter. All the bureaux of the
different departments of the service are to be found here. The office of
the electric telegraph is contained under the same roof, and the front
windows of the town-hall-looking building, lit up so brightly and so late
at night, are those of the French military "circle." The Piazza Colonna,
where stands the column of Mark Antony, opens out of the Corso, and is
perhaps the most central position in all Rome. At the corner is the
cafe, monopolized by the French non-commissioned officers; and next door
is the great French bookseller's.
Altogether the Piazza and its vicinity is the French _quartier_ of Rome.
At seven o'clock every evening, the detachments who are to be on guard,
during the night, at the different military posts, are drawn up in front
of the said building, receive the pass-word, and then, headed by the
drums and fifes, march off to their respective stations. Every Sunday
and Thursday evening too, at this hour, the French band plays for a short
time in the Piazza. Generally, this ceremony passes off in perfect
quiet, and in truth attracts as little attention from bystanders as our
file of guardsmen passing on their daily round from Charing Cross to the
Tower. On Sunday evening last, a considerable crowd, numbering, as far
as I can learn, some two or three thousand persons, chiefly men and boys,
assembled round the band, and as the patrols marched off down the Corso,
and towards the Castle of Saint Angelo, followed them with shouts of
"Viva l'Italia," "Viva Napoleone," and, most ominous of all, "Viva
Cavour." As soon as the patrols had passed the crowd dispersed, and
there was, apparently, an end of the matter. The next night poured with
rain, with such a rain as only Rome can supply; and yet, in spite of the
rain, a good number of people collected to see the guard march off, and
again a few seditious or patriotic cries (the two terms are here
synonymous) were heard. Such things in Italy, and in Rome especially,
are matters of grave importance, and the Government was evidently
alarmed. Contrary to general expectation, and I suspect to the hopes of
the clerical party, the French general has issued no notice, as he did
last year, forbidding these demonstrations. However, the patrols have
been much increased, and great numbers of the Pontifical gendarmes have
been brought into the city. On Tuesday night the Papal police made
several arrests, and a report was spread by the priests that the French
troops had orders to fire at once, if any attempt was made to create
disturbance. On the same night, too, there was a demonstration at the
Apollo. I have heard, from several quarters, that on some of the
Pontifical soldiers entering the house, the whole audience left the
theatre, with very few exceptions. However, in this city one gets to
have a cordial sympathy with the unbelieving Thomas, and not having been
present at the theatre myself, I cannot endorse the story.
Last night I strolled down the Corso to see the guard pass. The street
was very full, at least full for Rome, where the streets seem empty at
their fullest, and numerous groups of men were standing on the door-steps
and at the shop windows. Mounted patrols passed up and down the street,
and wherever there seemed the nucleus of a crowd forming, knots of the
Papal _sbirri_, with their long cloaks and cocked hats pressed over their
eyes, and furtive hang-dog looking countenances, elbowed their way
unopposed and apparently unnoticed. In the square itself there were a
hundred men or so, chiefly, I should judge, strangers or artists, a group
of young ragamuffins, who had climbed upon the pedestals of the columns,
and seemed actuated only by the curiosity natural to the boy genus, and a
very large number of French soldiers, who, at first sight, looked merely
loiterers. The patrol, of perhaps four hundred men, stood drawn up under
arms, waiting for the word to march. Gradually one perceived that the
crowds of soldiers who loitered about without muskets were not mere
spectators. Almost imperceptibly they closed round the patrol, pushed
back by the bystanders not in uniform, and then retreated, forming a
clear ring for the guard to move in. There was no pushing, no hustling,
no cries of any kind. After a few minutes the drums and fifes struck up,
the drum-major whirled his staff round in the air, the ring of soldier-
spectators parted, driving the crowd back on either side, and through the
clear space thus formed the patrol marched up the square, divided into
two columns, one going to the right, and the other to the left, and so
passed down the length of the Corso. The crowd made no sign, and raised
no shout as the troops went by, and only looked on in sullen silence. In
fact, the sole opinion I heard uttered was that of a French private, who
formed one of the ring, and who remarked to his comrade that this duty of
theirs was _sacre nom de chien de metier_, a remark in which I could not
but coincide. As soon as the patrol had passed, the crowd retreated into
the cafes or the back-streets, and in half-an-hour the Corso was as empty
as usual, and was left to the _sbirri_, who passed up and down slowly and
silently. Even in the small side-streets, which lead from the Corso to
the English quarters, I met knots of the Papal police accompanied by
French soldiers, and the suspicious scrutinizing glance they cast upon
you as you passed showed clearly enough they were out on business.
18 February.
The present has been a week of demonstrations, both Papal and anti-Papal.
Last Thursday was the Giovedi Grasso, the great people's day of the
carnival. In other years, from an early hour in the afternoon, there is
a constant stream of carriages and foot-passengers setting from all parts
of Rome towards the Corso. The back-streets and the ordinary promenades
are almost deserted. The delight of the Romans in the carnival is so
notorious, that persons long resident in Rome possessed the strongest
conviction beforehand, that no human power could ever keep the natives
from the Corso upon Thursday. The day, unlike its predecessors, was
brilliantly bright. The Corso was decked out as gaily as hangings and
awnings could make it. The sellers of bouquets and "confetti" were at
their posts. A number of carriages were sent down filled with adherents
of the Government, dressed in carnival attire, to act as decoy-ducks. All
officials were required to take part in the festivities. The influence
of the priests was exerted to beat up carnival recruits amongst their
flocks, and yet the people obstinately declined coming. The revel was
ready, but the revellers were wanting. The stiff-necked Romans were not
content with stopping away, but insisted on going elsewhere. By one of
those tacit understandings, which are always the characteristic of a
country without public life or liberty, a place of rendezvous was fixed
upon. Without notice or proclamation of any kind, everybody knew
somehow, though how, nobody could tell, that the road beyond the Porta
Pia was the place where people were to meet on the day in question. The
spot was appropriate on various grounds. Along the Via Nomentana, which
leaves Rome through this gate, lies the Mons Sacer, whither the Plebs of
old seceded from the city, to escape from the tyranny of their rulers.
The gate too, which was commenced by Michael Angelo, was completed by the
present Pontiff, and there is an irony dear to an Italian's mind in the
idea of choosing the Porta Pia for the egress of a demonstration against
the Pope Pius. Perhaps, after all, the fact that the road is one of the
sunniest and pleasantest near Rome may have had more to do with its
selection than any abstract considerations. Be the cause what it may,
one fact is certain, that from the time when the Corso ought to have been
filling, a multitude of carriages and holiday-dressed people set out
towards the Porta Pia. The Giovedi Grasso is a feast-day in Rome, and
all the shops are shut, and their owners at liberty. All Rome, in
consequence, seemed to be wending towards the Porta Pia. From the gate
to the convent of St Agnese, a distance of about a mile, there was a long
string of carriages, chiefly hired vehicles, but filled with well-dressed
persons. As far as I could judge, the number of private and aristocratic
conveyances was small. The prince of Piombino, who is married to one of
the half-English Borghese princesses, was the only Roman nobleman I heard
of, as being amongst the crowd. But if the nobility were not present on
the Via Nomentana, they were equally absent from the Corso. The
footpaths were thronged with a dense file of orderly respectable people.
There were, perhaps, half-a-dozen carriages, the owners of which had some
sort of carnival-dress on, but that was all. There were no cries, no
throwing of confetti, no demonstration of feeling, except in the very
fact of the assemblage. As far as I could guess from my own observation,
there were about 6000 people present, and from 400 to 500 carriages;
though persons who ought to be well informed have told me that there were
double these numbers. No attempt at interference was made on the part of
the French. There were but few French soldiers about, and what there
were, were evidently mere spectators. Pontifical gendarmes passed along
the road at frequent intervals, and, not being able to arrest a
multitude, consoled themselves with the small piece of tyranny of closing
the _osterias_, which, both in look and character, bear a strong
resemblance to our London tea-gardens, and are a favourite resort of
thirsty and dusty pedestrians. The crowd, nevertheless, remained
perfectly orderly and peaceful, and as soon as the carnival-time was
over, returned quietly to the city. As I came back from the gate I
passed through the Corso just before the course was cleared for the
races. I have never seen in Italy a rabble like that collected in the
street. The crowd was much such a one as you will sometimes meet, and
avoid, in the low purlieus of London on Guy Faux day. Carriages there
were, some forty in all, chiefly English. One hardly met a single
respectable-looking person, except foreigners, in the crowd; and I own I
was not sorry when I reached my destination, and got clear of the mob.
Yet the report of the police of the Pope was, that the carnival was
_brilliante, e brilliantissimo_.
On the following day (Friday) much the same sort of demonstration took
place in the Corso. There being no carnival, the whole street, from the
Piazza del Popolo to the Capitol, was filled with a line of carriages,
going and returning at a foot's pace. The balconies and windows were
filled with spectators, and the rabble of the previous day was replaced
by the same quiet, decent crowd I had seen at the Porta Pia. The
carriages, from some cause or other, were more aristocratic in
appearance; while the number of spectators was much smaller--probably
because it was a working day, and not a "festa." By seven o'clock the
assemblage dispersed, and the street was empty. Meanwhile, Friday
afternoon was chosen for the time of a counter-demonstration at the
Vatican. All the English Roman Catholics sojourning in Rome received
notice that it was proposed to present an address to the Pope, condoling
with him in his afflictions. Cardinal Wiseman was the chief promoter,
and framed the address. Many Roman Catholics, I understand, abstained
from going, because they were not aware what the terms of the address
might be, and how far the sentiments expressed in it might be consistent
with their position as English subjects. The demonstration outwardly was
not a very imposing one; about fifty cabs and one-horse vehicles drove up
at three o'clock to the Vatican, and altogether some 150 persons, men,
women, and children, of English extraction, mustered together as
representatives of Catholic England. The address was read by Cardinal
Wiseman, expressing in temperate terms enough the sympathy of the meeting
for the tribulations which had befallen his Holiness. The bearing of the
Pope, so his admirers state, was calm, dignified, and resolute. As
however, I have heard this statement made on every occasion of his
appearance in public, I am disposed to think it was much what it usually
is--the bearing of a good-natured, not over-wise, and somewhat shaky old
man. In reply to the address, he stated that "if it was the will of God
that chastisement should be inflicted upon his Church, he, as His vicar,
however unworthy, must taste of the chalice;" and that, "as becomes all
Christians, knowing that though we cannot penetrate the motives of God,
yet that He in his wisdom permits nothing without an ulterior object, we
may safely trust that this object must be good." All persons present
then advanced and kissed the Pope's hand, or foot, if the ardour of their
devotion was not contented by kissing the hand alone. When this
presentation was over, the Pope requested the company to kneel, and then
prayed in Italian for the spiritual welfare of England, calling her the
land of the saints, and alluding to the famous _Non Angli, sed angeli_.
He exhorted all present "to look forward to the good time when justice
and mercy should meet and embrace each other as brothers;" and finally,
with faltering voice, and tears rolling down his cheeks, gave his
apostolical benediction. Of course, if you can shut your eyes to facts,
all this is very pretty and sentimental. If the Romans could be happy
enough to possess the constitution of Thibet, and have a spiritual and a
temporal Grand Llama, they could not have fixed on a more efficient
candidate for the former post than the present Pope; but the crowds of
French soldiers which lined the streets to coerce the chosen people,
formed a strange comment on the value of pontifical piety. It is too
true that the better the Pope the worse the ruler. Probably the
thousands of Romans who thronged the Corso knew more about the blessings
of the Papal sway than the few score strangers, who volunteered to pay
the homage to the Sovereign of Rome which the Romans refuse to render.
To-day the demonstration was repeated on the Porta Pia; and the Vatican,
indignant at its powerlessness to suppress these symptoms of
disaffection, is anxious to stir up the crowd to some overt act of
insurrection, which may justify or, at any rate, palliate the employment
of violent measures. So in order to incense the crowd, the public
executioner was sent out in a cart guarded by gendarmes to excite some
active expression of anger on the part of the mob. It is hard for us to
understand the feeling with which the Italians, and especially the
Romans, regard the _carnefice_. He is always a condemned murderer, whose
life is spared on condition of his assuming the hated office, and, except
on duty, he is never allowed to leave the quarter of St Angelo, where he
dwells, as otherwise his life would be sacrificed to the indignation of
the crowd, who regard his presence as a contamination.
The poor fellow looked sheepish and frightened enough, as he patrolled
slowly with his escort up and down the crowded Porta Pia thoroughfare;
but even this insult failed to effect its object. The device was too
transparent for an Italian crowd not to detect it, and the ill-omened
_cortege_ of the "Pope's representative," as the Romans styled the
executioner, passed by without any comment.
MARCH 7.
The system of silent legal opposition which was carried on formerly at
Milan, and now at Venice, is being organised here against the Papal rule.
By one of those mystical compacts to which I have before alluded, it has
been resolved to suppress smoking and lottery-gambling. Our
anti-tobacconists, or our moral reformers, must not suppose that the
Romans have suddenly become alive to the iniquity of either of these
pursuits. I wish, indeed, with regard to the latter, I could
conscientiously assert that the Liberal faction had decreed its
extinction from any conviction of the degradation and corruption
inflicted by it upon their country. I fear, however, from the extent to
which lotteries are still encouraged by the Tuscan Government, that such
is not the case. The reason of the movement is, indeed, a very simple
and material one. From the lotteries and the tobacco monopoly the
government derives a very large part of its revenues, and a part, too,
which does not excite unpopularity in the same way as direct taxation.
Any extinction, therefore, or indeed any serious diminution of these
sources of revenue, would place the Holy See in great difficulties. The
profits on the lottery go directly into the pockets of the Government,
who are also supplied with very extensive and important patronage by the
vast number of petty posts which the system employed for collecting
tickets places at their disposal. The tobacco monopoly is farmed out to
a company, on whom any loss would fall in the first instance; but if the
abstention from tobacco were continued long, the Government would soon
feel the effects, through the inability of the company to keep up their
present rate of payment.
Whether rightly or wrongly, an attempt to cut off the funds of the Papal
exchequer in this manner is certainly being made. Strangers, of course,
are not interfered with; but Italians are warned at the doors of the
cigar-shops and the lottery-offices not to enter and buy. The sudden
diminution in the number of people you meet smoking in the streets is
quite remarkable, and, I am sure, would strike any observer who had never
heard of the movement. There have been already several disturbances
between smokers and non-smokers. The story goes, that in a quarrel
arising out of this subject, a man was stabbed in the street the night
before last; but in Rome it is almost impossible to make out the truth in
a matter of this kind. At several lottery-offices gendarmes have been
placed to hinder purchasers of tickets from being molested; and a bitter
feeling seems growing up on every side. How long the Romans may have
strength of mind enough to abstain from their favourite amusements of
smoking and gambling, it is impossible to say; but since I witnessed
their resolute abstention from the delights of the Carnival, I think
better of their courage than I did before.
On Sunday evening, when the great promenade takes place along the Corso,
where, a week ago, there was hardly a male mouth without a cigar or
cheroot or cigarette inserted in it, I only noticed four smokers in the
Corso crowd, and they were all foreigners. The practice is suppressed
not only in the streets but in the cafes. For the benefit of the weaker
brethren, who cannot screw up their patriotism to total abstinence, pipes
are allowed, as the Government profit on tobacco is very small compared
with that on cigars. The Italians, however, are not much of
pipe-smokers, and the tobacconists are in despair at the total absence of
customers. Of course, the partisans of the Government prophesy that the
movement will end in smoke, but at present the laugh is on the other
side.
March 10.
The Society for the Suppression of Smoking, who by the way send their
tracts to the reading-rooms here, of all places in the world, will regret
to learn that the Roman Anti-Tobacco Crusade is to expire on and after
Sunday next. The leaders of the liberal party have, I think, acted
wisely in contenting themselves with an exhibition of their union and
power and then withdrawing from the contest. The loss to the Government
by the discontinuance of smoking was only an indirect and eventual one;
on the other hand, the company, who farm the Tobacco monopoly, would have
been ruined by the progress of the movement, and had already been obliged
to dismiss a large proportion of their work-people. The tobacconists and
street-hawkers of cigars were deprived of their livelihood, and the
misery and consequent ill-will created amongst the poor of Rome by
keeping up the prohibition would have been serious. Then, too, perhaps
it was thought advisable not to impose too heavy a trial on patriotic
ardour. Smoke is meat and drink to a Roman, his first care in the
morning, his occupation by day, and his last thought at night. Yet you
may truly say, that during the time of its prohibition the whole city
willingly gave up smoking. If, in order to testify political
dissatisfaction, the whole of London were to leave off beer-drinking by
private agreement, the expression of feeling would be hardly a more
remarkable one.