PERIOD OF AGITATION IN ROME.--MARGARET'S ZEAL FOR ITALIAN FREEDOM.--HER
RETURN TO ROME.--REVIEW OF THE CIVIC GUARD.--CHURCH FASTS AND
FEASTS.--POPE PIUS.--THE RAINY SEASON.--PROMISE OF REPRESENTATIVE
GOVERNMENT IN ROME.--CELEBRATION OF THIS EVENT.--MAZZINI'S LETTER TO THE
POPE.--BEAUTY OF THE SPRING.--ITALY IN REVOLUTION.--POPULAR EXCITEMENTS
IN ROME.--POPE PIUS DESERTS THE CAUSE OF FREEDOM.--MARGARET LEAVES ROME
FOR AQUILA.
The period in which Margaret now found herself, and its circumstances,
may best be described by the adjective "billowy." Up and down, up and
down, went the hearts and hopes of the liberal party. Hither and thither
ran the tides of popular affection, suspicion, and resentment. The Pope
was the idol of the moment. Whoever might do wrong, he could not. The
Grand Duke of Tuscany, described by Margaret as dull but well meaning,
yielded to pressure wherever it became most severe. The Austrian
occupation was cowardly and cruel, as ever. The minor princes, who had
been from their birth incapable of an idea, tried as well as they could
to put on some semblance of concession without really yielding anything.
The King of Sardinia was spoken of among the liberals as a worthless
man, without heart or honor, only likely to be kept on the right side by
the stress of circumstance. This judgment of him was reversed in after
years, when, behind Casa Guidi windows, Elizabeth Barrett Browning
wrote, with steadfast hand, "Yea, verily. Charles Albert has died well."
The royalty of Naples tried to quiet its tremors with blood, and
trembled still. And in the midst of all this turmoil, down comes Louis
Philippe from his throne, and France is shaken to her very centre.
To follow Margaret through all the fluctuations and excitements
consequent upon these events would be no easy task. She was obviously in
close relations with leading Italian liberals, and probably trusted
their statements and shared their hopes, fears, and resentments.
Constant always in her faith in human nature, and in her zeal for the
emancipation of Italy, the dissolving view before her could leave her no
other fixed belief. Her favorites, her beloved Italian people, even her
adored Rome, appeared to her at different times in very various lights.
Starting from the date given above, we will follow, as well as we can,
her progress through the constantly shifting scenes that surrounded her,
from whose intense interest she could not, for one moment, isolate
herself.
* * * * *
Of her return to Rome, Margaret says: "All mean things were forgotten in
the joy that rushed over me like a flood." The difference between a
sight-seeing tour and a winter's residence in such a place is indeed
like that between a chance acquaintance and an intimate one. Settled in
a pleasant apartment on the Corso, "in a house of loving Italians,"
Margaret promised herself a winter of "tranquil companionship" with what
she calls "the true Rome."
She did not find the Italian autumn beautiful, as she had expected, but
she enjoyed the October _festas_ of the Trasteverini, and went with
"half Rome" to see the manoeuvres of the Civic Guard on the Campagna,
near the tomb of Cecilia Metella.
To the music of the "Bolognese March" six thousand Romans moved in
battle array, in full sight of the grandiose débris of the heroic time.
Some sight-seeing Margaret still undertook, as we learn from a letter
dated November 17, in which she speaks of going about "in a coach with
several people," and confesses that she dissipates her thoughts on
outward beauty. Such was her delight, at this time, in the "atmosphere
of the European mind," that she even wished, for a time, to be delivered
from the sound of the English language.
The beginning of this winter was, as it usually is in Italy, a season of
fine weather. On the 17th of December Margaret rises to bask in
beneficent floods of sunlight, and to find upon her table the roses and
grapes which, in New England, would have been costly hot-house luxuries.
Her letter of this date is full of her delight in having penetrated from
the outer aspect to the heart of Rome, classic, mediæval, and modern.
And here we come upon the record of those first impressions concerning
which we latterly indulged in some speculation.
"Ah! how joyful to see once more this Rome, instead of the pitiful,
peddling, Anglicized Rome first viewed in unutterable dismay from the
_coupé_ of the vettura,--a Rome all full of taverns, lodging-houses,
cheating chambermaids, vilest _valets de place_, and fleas! A Niobe of
nations indeed! Ah! why (secretly the heart blasphemed) did the sun omit
to kill her too, when all the glorious race which wore her crown fell
beneath his ray?"
All this had now disappeared for Margaret, and a new enchantment had
taken the place of the old illusion and disappointment. For she was now
able to disentangle the strange jumble of ancient and modern Rome. In
this more understanding and familiar view, she says:--
"The old kings, the consuls and tribunes, the emperors, drunk with blood
and gold, return for us. The seven hills tower, the innumerable temples
glitter, and the Via Sacra swarms with triumphal life once more."
In the later Papal Rome she discerns, through the confusion of rite and
legend, a sense which to her marks the growth "of the human spirit
struggling to develop its life." And the Rome of that day was dear to
her in spite of its manifold corruptions; dear for the splendor of the
race, surviving every enslaving and deforming influence; dear for the
new-born hope of freedom which she considered safe in the nursing of
Pope Pius.
Most of the occasions chronicled by Margaret in her letters of this
period are of the sort familiarly known to travellers, and even to
readers of books of travel.
The prayers for the dead, early in November, the festival of San Carlo
Borromeo, the veiling of a nun, the worship of the wooden image called
"the most Holy Child," idolatrous, Margaret thinks, as that of the
Capitoline Jove, the blessing of the animals, the festival of the Magi
at the Propaganda,--these events are all described by her with much
good thought and suggestion.
She saw the Pope occasionally at the grand ceremonies of the Church, and
saw the first shadow fall upon his popularity, partly in consequence of
some public utterances of his which seemed to Margaret "deplorably weak
in thought and absolute in manner," and which she could not but
interpret as implying that wherever reform might in future militate
against sacerdotal traditions, it would go to the wall, in order that
the priest might triumph.
The glorious weather had departed almost as soon as she had sung its
praises, namely, on the 18th of December; after which time her patience
was sorely tried by forty days of rain, accompanied by "abominable
reeking odors, such as blessed cities swept by the sea-breeze never
know." We copy from one of her letters a graphic picture of this time of
trial:--
"It has been dark all day, though the lamp has only been lit half an
hour. The music of the day has been, first, the atrocious _arias_ which
last in the Corso till near noon. Then came the wicked organ-grinder,
who, apart from the horror of the noise, grinds exactly the same
obsolete abominations as at home or in England, the 'Copenhagen Waltz,'
'Home, Sweet Home,' and all that! The cruel chance that both an English
my-lady and a councillor from the provinces live opposite, keeps him
constantly before my window, hoping for _bajocchi_.
"Within, the three pet dogs of my landlady, bereft of their walk, unable
to employ their miserable legs and eyes, exercise themselves by a
continual barking, which is answered by all the dogs in the
neighborhood. An urchin returning from the laundress, delighted with the
symphony, lays down his white bundle in the gutter, seats himself on the
curb-stone, and attempts an imitation of the music of cats as a tribute
to the concert.
"The door-bell rings. _Chi è?_ ('Who is it?') cries the handmaid. Enter
a man poisoning me at once with the smell of the worst possible cigars,
insisting I shall look upon frightful, ill-cut cameos and worse-designed
mosaics, made by some friend of his. Man of ill odors and meanest smile!
I am no countess to be fooled by you."
These passages give us some glimpses of our friend in the surroundings
which at first gave her so much satisfaction, and whose growing
discomforts were lightened for her by her native sense of humor.
In spite of this, however, "the dirt, the gloom, the desolation of Rome"
affected her severely. Her appetite failed, and with it her strength,
while nervous headache and fever conspired to make the whole season
appear, in review, "the most idle and most suffering" one of her life.
The most important public event of the winter in Rome seems to have been
the inauguration of a new Council, with some show of popular election,
said to have been on the whole satisfactory. As this was considered a
decided step in the direction of progress, preparations were made for
its celebration by the representatives of other Italian States, and of
various friendly nations. The Americans resident in Rome were aroused to
an unwonted degree of interest, the gentlemen subscribing funds for the
materials of a flag, and the ladies meeting to make it. To accompany
this banner, a magnificent spread eagle was procured. Everything was in
the height of preparation, when some counter-influence, brought to bear
upon the Pope, led him to issue an edict forbidding this happy concourse
of the flags of all nations, and allowing only that of Rome to be
carried in honor of the occasion. Margaret saw in this the work of the
Oscurantists, "ever on the watch to do mischief" to the popular cause.
Despite the disappointment of the citizens at this curtailment of their
show, the streets were decorated, and filled with people in the best
humor. Margaret was able to see nothing but this crowd, but found even
that a great pleasure. A ball at the Argentina Theatre terminated the
festivities of the day. Here were seen "Lord Minto; Prince Corsini, now
senator; the Torlonias, in uniform of the Civic Guard, Princess Torlonia
(the beautiful Colonna) in a sash of their colors, which she waved often
in answer to their greetings." The finest show of the evening, Margaret
says, was the native Saltarello, danced by the Trasteverini in their
gayest costumes. In this dance, which is at once very _naïve_ and very
natural, Margaret saw the embodiment of "the Italian wine, the Italian
sun."
In the course of this winter it became evident that the liberalism of
Pio Nono would not stand the test of any extensive practical
application. His position was, indeed, a very difficult one, the natural
allies and supporters of the Papacy being, without exception, the
natural enemies of the new ideas to which he had so incautiously opened
the door.
Margaret relates various attempts made by Austrians in Lombardy and by
Oscurantists in Rome to excite the people to overt acts of violence, and
thus gain a pretext for the employment of armed force. In Rome, on New
Year's day, an attempt of this sort was near succeeding, the governor of
the city having ungraciously forbidden the people to wait upon the Pope
at the Quirinal, and to ask for his blessing. Fortunately, instead of
rising in rebellion, they betook themselves to Senator Corsini, by whose
friendly interposition the Pope was induced to make a progress through
the city, interrupted only by the prayers of his subjects, who, falling
on their knees as he passed, cried out: "Holy Father, don't desert us!
don't forget us! don't listen to our enemies!" the Pope, in tears,
replying: "Fear nothing, my people; my heart is yours." And this
tender-hearted populace, seeing that the Pope looked ill, and that the
weather was inclement, begged him to return to the Quirinal, which he
did, the popular leader, Ciceruacchio, following his carriage.
A letter from Mazzini to Pope Pius, printed in Paris, had reached Italy
by this time, and was translated by Margaret for publication in the "New
York Tribune." Some passages of it will not be out of place here, as
showing the position and outlook of a man by far the most illustrious of
the Italian exiles, and one whose purity of life and excellence of
character gave to his opinions a weight beyond their intellectual value.
After introducing himself as one who adores God, Mazzini says that he
adores, also, an idea which seems to him to be of God, that of Italy as
"an angel of moral unity and of progressive civilization for the nations
of Europe."
Having studied the great history of humanity, and having there found
"Rome twice directress of the world, first through the Emperors, later
through the Popes," he is led to believe that the great city is destined
to a third and more lasting period of supremacy.
"I believe that another European world ought to be revealed from the
Eternal City, that had the Capitol and has the Vatican. And this faith
has not abandoned me through years, poverty, and griefs which God alone
knows."
One cannot help pausing here to reflect that in both historic instances
the supremacy of Rome was due to a superiority of civilization which she
has long lost, and is not likely to regain in this day of the world.
Mazzini says to the Pope: "There is no man this day in all Europe more
powerful than you; you then have, most Holy Father, vast duties."
He now passes on to a review of the situation:--
"Europe is in a tremendous crisis of doubts and desires. Faith is dead.
Catholicism is lost in despotism; Protestantism is lost in anarchy. The
intellect travels in a void. The bad adore calculation, physical good;
the good pray and hope; nobody believes....
"I call upon you, after so many ages of doubt and corruption, to be the
apostle of eternal truth. I call upon you to make yourself the 'servant
of all;' to sacrifice yourself, if needful, so that the will of God may
be done on earth as it is in heaven; to hold yourself ready to glorify
God in victory, or to repeat with resignation, if you must fail, the
words of Gregory VII.: 'I die in exile because I have loved justice and
hated iniquity.'
"But for this, to fulfil the mission which God confides to you, two
things are needful,--to be a believer, and to unify Italy."
The first of these two clauses is here amplified into an exhortation
which, edifying in itself, had in it nothing likely to suggest to the
person addressed any practical solution of the difficulties which
surrounded him.
Having shown the Head of Christendom the way to right belief, Mazzini
next instructs him how to unify Italy:--
"For this you have no need to work, but [only to] bless Him who works
through you and in your name. Gather round you those who best represent
the national party. Do not beg alliances with princes. Say, 'The unity
of Italy ought to be a fact of the nineteenth century,' and it will
suffice. Leave our pens free; leave free the circulation of ideas in
what regards this point, vital for us, of the national unity."
Here follow some special directions with regard to the several powers
to be dealt with in the projected unification. The result of all this,
foreseen by Mazzini, would be the foundation of "a government unique in
Europe, which shall destroy the absurd divorce between spiritual and
temporal power, and in which you shall be chosen to represent the
principle of which the men chosen by the nation will make the
application."
"The unity of Italy," says Mazzini, "is a work of God. It will be
fulfilled, with you or without you. But I address you because I believe
you worthy to take the initiative in a work so vast; ... because the
revival of Italy, under the ægis of a religious idea of a standard, not
of rights, but of duties, would leave behind all the revolutions of
other countries, and place her immediately at the head of European
progress."
Pure and devout as are the sentiments uttered in this letter, the views
which accompany them have been shown, by subsequent events, to be only
partially just, only partially realizable. The unification of Italy may
to-day be called "a work of God;" but had it been accomplished on the
theocratic basis imagined by Mazzini, it could not have led either
Europe or Italy itself to the point now reached through manifold
endeavor and experience. Spirits may be summoned from the upper air as well
as from the "vasty deep," but they will not come until the time is ripe
for their work. And yet are prayer and prophecy of this sort sacred and
indispensable functions in the priesthood of ideas.
On March 29, 1848, Margaret is able to praise once more the beauty of
the scene around her:--
"Now the Italian heavens wear again their deep blue. The sun is
glorious, the melancholy lustres are stealing again over the Campagna,
and hundreds of larks sing unwearied above its ruins. Nature seems in
sympathy with the great events that are transpiring."
What were these events, which, Margaret says, stunned her by the
rapidity and grandeur of their march?
The face of Italy was changed indeed. Sicily was in revolt, Naples in
revolution. Milan, Venice, Modena, and Parma were driving out their
tyrants; and in Rome, men and women were weeping and dancing for joy at
the news. Abroad, Louis Philippe had lost his throne, and Metternich his
power. Margaret saw the Austrian arms dragged through the streets, and
burned in the Piazza del Popolo. "The Italians embraced one another, and
cried, _Miracolo!_ _Providenza!_ The Tribune Ciceruacchio fed the flame
with fagots. Adam Mickiewicz, the great poet of Poland, long exiled from
his country, looked on." The double-headed Austrian eagle was torn from
the front of the Palazzo di Venezia, and in his place was set the
inscription, "Alta Italia." By April 1st the Austrian Viceroy had
capitulated at Verona, and Italy appeared to be, or was for the time,
"free, independent, and one."
Poor Pope Pius, meanwhile, had fallen more and more into the rear of the
advancing movement, and finally kept step with it only as he was
compelled to do, secretly looking for the moment when he should be able
to break from the ranks which he himself had once led. On May 7th,
Margaret writes of his "final dereliction to the cause of freedom," by
which phrase she describes his refusal to declare war against Austria,
after having himself done and approved of much which led in that
direction. The position of the Pontiff was now most unhappy. Alarmed at
the agitation and turmoil about him, it is probable that he bitterly
regretted the acts in which he had been sincere, but of which he had not
foreseen the consequences. Margaret describes him as isolated in his
palace, guided by his confessor, weak and treacherous in his movements,
privately disowning the measures which the popular feeling compelled him
to allow, and secretly doing his utmost to counteract them.
In the month of May Margaret enjoyed some excursions into the environs
of Rome. She visited Albano, Frascati, and Ostia, and passed some days
at Subiaco and at Tivoli. On the 28th of the same month she left Rome
for the summer, and retired to Aquila, a little ruined town in the
Abruzzi Mountains, where, after so many painful excitements, she hoped
to find tranquillity and rest.