When I wrote last, the Pope had fled, guided, he says, "by the hand

of Providence,"--Italy deems by the hand of Austria,--to Gaëta. He

had already soiled his white robes, and defamed himself for ever,

by heaping benedictions on the king of Naples and the bands of

mercenaries whom he employs to murder his subjects on the least sign

of restlessness in their most painful position. Most cowardly had been

the conduct of his making promises he never meant to keep, stealing

away by night in the coach of a foreign diplomatist, protesting that

what he had done was null because he had acted under fear,--as if

such a protest could avail to one who boasts himself representative

of Christ and his Apostles, guardian of the legacy of the martyrs! He

selected a band of most incapable men to face the danger he had feared

for himself; most of these followed his example and fled. Rome sought

an interview with him, to see if reconciliation were possible; he

refused to receive her messengers. His wicked advisers calculated upon

great confusion and distress as inevitable on the occasion; but,

for once, the hope of the bad heart was doomed to immediate

disappointment. Rome coolly said, "If you desert me,--if you will not

hear me,--I must act for myself." She threw herself into the arms of

a few men who had courage and calmness for this crisis; they bade her

think upon what was to be done, meanwhile avoiding every excess that

could give a color to calumny and revenge. The people, with admirable

good sense, comprehended and followed up this advice. Never was Rome

so truly tranquil, so nearly free from gross ill, as this winter. A

few words of brotherly admonition have been more powerful than all the

spies, dungeons, and scaffolds of Gregory.

"The hand of the Omnipotent works for us," observed an old man whom I

saw in the street selling cigars the evening before the opening of the

Constitutional Assembly. He was struck by the radiant beauty of the

night. The old people observe that there never has been such a winter

as this which follows the establishment by the French of a republic.

May the omens speed well! A host of enemies without are ready to levy

war against this long-suffering people, to rivet anew their chains.

Still there is now an obvious tide throughout Europe toward a better

order of things, and a wave of it may bear Italy onward to the shore.

The revolution, like all genuine ones, has been instinctive, its

results unexpected and surprising to the greater part of those who

achieved them. The waters, which had flowed so secretly beneath the

crust of habit that many never heard their murmur, unless in dreams,

have suddenly burst to light in full and beautiful jets; all rush to

drink the pure and living draught.

As in the time of Jesus, the multitude had been long enslaved beneath

a cumbrous ritual, their minds designedly darkened by those who

should have enlightened them, brutified, corrupted, amid monstrous

contradictions and abuses; yet the moment they hear a word

correspondent to the original nature, "Yes, it is true," they cry. "It

is spoken with, authority. Yes, it ought to be so. Priests ought to

be better and wiser than other men; if they were, they would not need

pomp and temporal power to command respect. Yes, it is true; we ought

not to lie; we should not try to impose upon one another. We ought

rather to prefer that our children should work honestly for their

bread, than get it by cheating, begging, or the prostitution of their

mothers. It would be better to act worthily and kindly, probably would

please God more than the kissing of relics. We have long darkly felt

that these things were so; _now_ we know it."

The unreality of relation between the people and the hierarchy was

obvious instantly upon the flight of Pius. He made an immense mistake

then, and he made it because neither he nor his Cardinals were aware

of the unreality. They did not know that, great as is the force of

habit, truth _only_ is imperishable. The people had abhorred Gregory,

had adored Pius, upon whom they looked as a saviour, as a liberator;

finding themselves deceived, a mourning-veil had overshadowed their

love. Still, had Pius remained here, and had courage to show himself

on agitating occasions, his position as the Pope, before whom they had

been bred to bow, his aspect, which had once seemed to them full of

blessing and promise, like that of an angel, would have still retained

power. Probably the temporal dominion of the Papacy would not have

been broken up. He fled; the people felt contempt for his want of

force and truth. He wrote to reproach them with ingratitude; they were

indignant. What had they to be grateful for? A constitution to which

he had not kept true an instant; the institution of the National

Guard, which he had begun to neutralize; benedictions, followed by

such actions as the desertion of the poor volunteers in the war for

Italian independence? Still, the people were not quite alienated

from Pius. They felt sure that his heart was, in substance, good

and kindly, though the habits of the priest and the arts of his

counsellors had led him so egregiously to falsify its dictates and

forget the vocation with which he had been called. Many hoped he would

see his mistake, and return to be at one with the people. Among the

more ignorant, there was a superstitious notion that he would return

in the night of the 5th of January. There were many bets that he would

be found in the palace of the Quirinal the morning of the 6th. All

these lingering feelings were finally extinguished by the advice of

excommunication. As this may not have readied America, I subjoin a

translation. Here I was obliged to make use of a manuscript copy;

all the printed ones were at once destroyed. It is probably the last

document of the kind the world will see.

MANIFESTO OF PIUS IX.

"To OUR MOST BELOVED SUBJECTS:--

"From this pacific abode to which it has pleased Divine Providence to

conduct us, and whence we can freely manifest our sentiments and our

will, we have waited for testimonies of remorse from our misguided

children for the sacrileges and misdeeds committed against persons

attached to our service,--among whom some have been slain, others

outraged in the most barbarous manner,--as well as for those against

our residence and our person. But we have seen nothing except a

sterile invitation to return to our capital, unaccompanied by a

word of condemnation for those crimes or the least guaranty for our

security against the frauds and violences of that same company of

furious men which still tyrannizes with a barbarous despotism over

Rome and the States of the Church. We also waited, expecting that

the protests and orders we have uttered would recall to the duties of

fidelity and subjection those who have despised and trampled upon them

in the very capital of our States. But, instead of this, a new and

more monstrous act of undisguised felony and of actual rebellion by

them audaciously committed, has filled the measure of our affliction,

and excited at the same time our just indignation, as it will

afflict the Church Universal. We speak of that act, in every

respect detestable, by which, it has been pretended to initiate the

convocation of a so-called General National Assembly of the Roman

States, by a decree of the 29th of last December, in order to

establish new political forms for the Pontifical dominion. Adding

thus iniquity to iniquity, the authors and favorers of the demagogical

anarchy strive to destroy the temporal authority of the Roman Pontiff

over the dominions of Holy Church,--however irrefragably established

through the most ancient and solid rights, and venerated, recognized,

and sustained by all the nations,--pretending and making others

believe that his sovereign power can be subject to controversy or

depend on the caprices of the factious. We shall spare our dignity

the humiliation of dwelling on all that is monstrous contained in that

act, abominable through the absurdity of its origin no less than the

illegality of its form and the impiety of its scope; but it appertains

to the apostolic authority, with which, however unworthy, we are

invested, and to the responsibility which binds us by the most sacred

oaths in the sight of the Omnipotent, not only to protest in the most

energetic and efficacious manner against that same act, but to condemn

it in the face of the universe as an enormous and sacrilegious crime

against our independence and sovereignty, meriting the chastisements

threatened by divine and human laws. We are persuaded that, on

receiving the impudent invitation, you were full of holy indignation,

and will have rejected far from you this guilty and shameful

provocation. Notwithstanding, that none of you may say he has been

deluded by fallacious seductions, and by the preachers of subversive

doctrines, or ignorant of what is contriving by the foes of all order,

all law, all right, true liberty, and your happiness, we to-day again

raise and utter abroad our voice, so that you may be more certain of

the absoluteness with which we prohibit men, of whatever class and

condition, from taking any part in the meetings which those persons

may dare to call, for the nomination of individuals to be sent to

the condemned Assembly. At the same time we recall to you how this

absolute prohibition is sanctioned by the decrees of our predecessors

and of the Councils, especially of the Sacred Council-General of

Trent, Sect. XXII. Chap. 11, in which the Church has fulminated many

times her censures, and especially the greater excommunication, as

incurred without fail by any declaration of whomsoever daring to

become guilty of whatsoever attempt against the temporal sovereignty

of the Supreme Pontiff, this we declare to have been already unhappily

incurred by all those who have given aid to the above-named act, and

others preceding, intended to prejudice the same sovereignty, and in

other modes and under false pretexts have, perturbed, violated,

and usurped our authority. Yet, though we feel ourselves obliged by

conscience to guard the sacred deposit of the patrimony of the Spouse

of Jesus Christ, confided to our care, by using the sword of severity

given to us for that purpose, we cannot therefore forget that we are

on earth the representative of Him who in exercise of his justice does

not forget mercy. Raising, therefore, our hands to Heaven, while we

to it recommend a cause which is indeed more Heaven's than ours, and

while anew we declare ourselves ready, with the aid of its powerful

grace, to drink even to the dregs, for the defence and glory of the

Catholic Church, the cup of persecution which He first wished to drink

for the salvation of the same, we shall not desist from supplicating

Him benignly to hear the fervent prayers which day and night we

unceasingly offer for the salvation of the misguided. No day certainly

could be more joyful for us, than that in which it shall be granted to

see return into the fold of the Lord our sons from whom now we derive

so much bitterness and so great tribulations. The hope of enjoying

soon the happiness of such a day is strengthened in us by the

reflection, that universal are the prayers which, united to ours,

ascend to the throne of Divine Mercy from the lips and the heart of

the faithful throughout the Catholic world, urging it continually to

change the hearts of sinners, and reconduct them into the paths of

truth and of justice.

"Gaëta, January 6, 1849."

The silliness, bigotry, and ungenerous tone of this manifesto excited

a simultaneous movement in the population. The procession which

carried it, mumbling chants, for deposit in places provided for lowest

uses, and then, taking from, the doors of the hatters' shops the

cardinals' hats, threw them into the Tiber, was a real and general

expression of popular disgust. From that hour the power of the scarlet

hierarchy fell to rise no more. No authority can survive a universal

movement of derision. From that hour tongues and pens were loosed, the

leaven of Machiavellism, which still polluted the productions of the

more liberal, disappeared, and people talked as they felt, just as

those of us who do not choose to be slaves are accustomed to do in

America.

"Jesus," cried an orator, "bade them feed his lambs. If they have done

so, it has been to rob their fleece and drink their blood."

"Why," said another, "have we been so long deaf to the saying, that

the temporal dominion of the Church was like a thorn in the wound of

Italy, which shall never be healed till that thorn is extracted?"

And then, without passion, all felt that the temporal dominion was in

fact finished of itself, and that it only remained to organize another

form of government.

LETTER XXVIII.

GIOBERTI, MAMIANI, AND MAZZINI.--FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTIONAL

ASSEMBLY.--THE RIGHT OF SUFFRAGE.--A PROCESSION.--PROCLAMATION OF

THE REPUBLIC.--RESULTS.--DECREE OF THE ASSEMBLY.--AMERICANS IN

ROME: DIFFERENCE OF IMPRESSIONS.--FLIGHT OF THE GRAND DUKE OF

TUSCANY.--CHARLES ALBERT.--PRESENT STATE OF ROME.--REFLECTIONS AND

CONCLUSIONS.--LATEST INTELLIGENCE.

Rome, Evening of Feb. 20, 1849.

The League between the Italian States, and the Diet which was to

establish it, had been the thought of Gioberti, but had found the

instrument at Rome in Mamiani. The deputies were to be named by

princes or parliaments, their mandate to be limited by the existing

institutions of the several states; measures of mutual security and

some modifications in the way of reform would be the utmost that could

be hoped from this Diet. The scope of this party did not go beyond

more vigorous prosecution of the war for independence, and the

establishment of good, institutions for the several principalities on

a basis of assimilation.

Mazzini, the great radical thinker of Italy, was, on the contrary,

persuaded that unity, not union, was necessary to this country. He

had taken for his motto, GOD AND THE PEOPLE, and believed in no

other powers. He wished an Italian Constitutional Assembly, selected

directly by the people, and furnished with an unlimited mandate to

decide what form was now required by the needs of the Peninsula. His

own wishes, certainly, aimed at a republic; but the decision remained

with the representatives of the people.

The thought of Gioberti had been at first the popular one, as he,

in fact, was the seer of the so-called Moderate party. For myself, I

always looked upon him as entirely a charlatan, who covered his want

of all real force by the thickest embroidered mantle of words. Still,

for a time, he corresponded with the wants of the Italian mind. He

assailed the Jesuits, and was of real use by embodying the distrust

and aversion that brooded in the minds of men against these most

insidious and inveterate foes of liberty and progress. This triumph,

at least, he may boast: that sect has been obliged to yield; its

extinction seems impossible, of such life-giving power was the fiery

will of Loyola. In the Primate he had embodied the lingering hope of

the Catholic Church; Pius IX. had answered to the appeal, had answered

only to show its futility. He had run through Italy as courier for

Charles Albert, when the so falsely styled Magnanimous entered,

pretending to save her from the stranger, really hoping to take her

for himself. His own cowardice and treachery neutralized the hope, and

Charles Albert, abject in his disgrace, took a retrograde ministry.

This the country would not suffer, and obliged him after a while

to reassume at least the position of the previous year, by taking

Gioberti for his premier. But it soon became evident that the ministry

of Charles Albert was in the same position as had been that of Pius

IX. The hand was powerless when the head was indisposed. Meantime the

name of Mazzini had echoed through Tuscany from the revered lips

of Montanelli; it reached the Roman States, and though at first

propagated by foreign impulse, yet, as soon as understood, was

welcomed as congenial. Montanelli had nobly said, addressing Florence:

"We could not regret that the realization of this project should take

place in a sister city, still more illustrious than ours." The Romans

took him at his word; the Constitutional Assembly for the Roman States

was elected with a double mandate, that the deputies might sit in the

Constitutional Assembly for all Italy whenever the other provinces

could send theirs. They were elected by universal suffrage. Those who

listened to Jesuits and Moderates predicted that the project would

fail of itself. The people were too ignorant to make use of the

liberty of suffrage.

But ravens now-a-days are not the true prophetic birds. The Roman

eagle recommences her flight, and it is from its direction only that

the high-priest may draw his augury. The people are certainly as

ignorant as centuries of the worst government, the neglect of popular

education, the enslavement of speech and the press, could make them;

yet they have an instinct to recognize measures that are good for

them. A few weeks' schooling at some popular meetings, the clubs, the

conversations of the National Guards in their quarters or on patrol,

were sufficient to concert measures so well, that the people voted in

larger proportion than at contested elections in our country, and made

a very good choice.

The opening of the Constitutional Assembly gave occasion for a fine

procession. All the troops in Rome defiled from the Campidoglio;

among them many bear the marks of suffering from the Lombard war. The

banners of Sicily, Venice, and Bologna waved proudly; that of Naples

was veiled with crape. I was in a balcony in the Piazza di Venezia;

the Palazzo di Venezia, that sternest feudal pile, so long the

head-quarters of Austrian machinations, seemed to frown, as the bands

each in passing struck up the _Marseillaise_. The nephew of Napoleon

and Garibaldi, the hero of Montevideo, walked together, as deputies.

The deputies, a grave band, mostly advocates or other professional

men, walked without other badge of distinction than the tricolored

scarf. I remembered the entrance of the deputies to the Council only

fourteen months ago, in the magnificent carriages lent by the princes

for the occasion; they too were mostly nobles, and their liveried

attendants followed, carrying their scutcheons. Princes and

councillors have both fled or sunk into nothingness; in those

councillors was no counsel. Will it be found in the present? Let us

hope so! What we see to-day has much more the air of reality than all

that parade of scutcheons, or the pomp of dress and retinue with which

the Ecclesiastical Court was wont to amuse the people.

A few days after followed the proclamation of a Republic. An immense

crowd of people surrounded the Palazzo della Cancelleria, within whose

court-yard Rossi fell, while the debate was going on within. At one

o'clock in the morning of the 9th of February, a Republic was resolved

upon, and the crowd rushed away to ring all the bells.

Early next morning I rose and went forth to observe the Republic.

Over the Quirinal I went, through the Forum, to the Capitol. There was

nothing to be seen except the magnificent calm emperor, the tamers

of horses, the fountain, the trophies, the lions, as usual; among the

marbles, for living figures, a few dirty, bold women, and Murillo boys

in the sun just as usual. I passed into the Corso; there were men in

the liberty cap,--of course the lowest and vilest had been the first

to assume it; all the horrible beggars persecuting as impudently as

usual. I met some English; all their comfort was, "It would not last

a month." "They hoped to see all these fellows shot yet." The English

clergyman, more mild and legal, only hopes to see them (i.e. the

ministry, deputies, &c.) _hung_.

Mr. Carlyle would be delighted with his countrymen. They are entirely

ready and anxious to see a Cromwell for Italy. They, too, think, when

the people starve, "It is no matter what happens in the back parlor."

What signifies that, if there is "order" in the front? How dare the

people make a noise to disturb us yawning at billiards!

I met an American. He "had no confidence in the Republic." Why?

Because he "had no confidence in the people." Why? Because "they were

not like _our_ people." Ah! Jonathan and John,--excuse me, but I

must say the Italian has a decided advantage over you in the power of

quickly feeling generous sympathy, as well as some other things which

I have not time now to particularize. I have memoranda from you both

in my note-book.

At last the procession mounts the Campidoglio. It is all dressed with

banners. The tricolor surmounts the palace of the senator; the senator

himself has fled. The deputies mount the steps, and one of them reads,

in a clear, friendly voice, the following words:--

"FUNDAMENTAL DECREE OF THE CONSTITUTIONAL ASSEMBLY OF ROME.

"ART. I.--The Papacy has fallen in fact and in right from the temporal

government of the Roman State.

"ART. II.--The Roman Pontiff shall have all the necessary guaranties

for independence in the exercise of his spiritual power.

"ART. III.--The form of government of the Roman State shall be a pure

democracy, and will take the glorious name of Roman Republic.

"ART. IV.--The Roman Republic shall have with the rest of Italy the

relations exacted by a common nationality."

Between each of these expressive sentences the speaker paused; the

great bell of the Capitol gave forth its solemn melodies; the cannon

answered; while the crowd shouted, _Viva la Republica! Viva Italia!_

The imposing grandeur of the spectacle to me gave new force to the

emotion that already swelled my heart; my nerves thrilled, and I

longed to see in some answering glance a spark of Rienzi, a little of

that soul which made my country what she is. The American at my side

remained impassive. Receiving all his birthright from a triumph of

democracy, he was quite indifferent to this manifestation on this

consecrated spot. Passing the winter in Rome to study art, he was

insensible to the artistic beauty of the scene,--insensible to this

new life of that spirit from which all the forms he gazes at

in galleries emanated. He "did not see the use of these popular

demonstrations."

Again I must mention a remark of his, as a specimen of the ignorance

in which Americans usually remain during their flighty visits to these

scenes, where they associate only with one another. And I do it the

rather as this seemed a really thoughtful, intelligent man; no vain,

vulgar trifler. He said, "The people seem only to be looking on; they

take no part."

What people? said I.

"Why, these around us; there is no other people."

There are a few beggars, errand-boys, and nurse-maids.

"The others are only soldiers."

Soldiers! The Civic Guard! all the decent men in Rome.

Thus it is that the American, on many points, becomes more ignorant

for coming abroad, because he attaches some value to his crude

impressions and frequent blunders. It is not thus that any seed-corn

can be gathered from foreign gardens. Without modest scrutiny, patient

study, and observation, he spends his money and goes home, with a

new coat perhaps, but a mind befooled rather than instructed. It

is necessary to speak the languages of these countries, and know

personally some of their inhabitants, in order to form any accurate

impressions.

The flight of the Grand Duke of Tuscany followed. In imitation of

his great exemplar, he promised and smiled to the last, deceiving

Montanelli, the pure and sincere, at the very moment he was about to

enter his carriage, into the belief that he persevered in his assent

to the liberal movement. His position was certainly very difficult,

but he might have left it like a gentleman, like a man of honor. 'T

was pity to destroy so lightly the good opinion the Tuscans had of

him. Now Tuscany meditates union with Rome.

Meanwhile, Charles Albert is filled with alarm. He is indeed betwixt

two fires. Gioberti has published one of his prolix, weak addresses,

in which, he says, that in the beginning of every revolution one must

fix a limit beyond which he will not go; that, for himself, he has

done it,--others are passing beyond his mark, and he will not go any

farther. Of the want of thought, of insight into historic and all

other truths, which distinguishes the "illustrious Gioberti," this

assumption is a specimen. But it makes no difference; he and his

prince must go, sooner or later, if the movement continues, nor is

there any prospect of its being stayed unless by foreign intervention.

This the Pope has not yet, it is believed, solicited, but there is

little reason to hope he will be spared that crowning disgrace. He

has already consented to the incitement of civil war. Should an

intervention be solicited, all depends on France. Will she basely

forfeit every pledge and every duty, to say nothing of her true

interest? It seems that her President stands doubtful, intending to

do what is for _his_ particular interest; but if his interest proves

opposed to the republican principle, will France suffer herself again

to be hoodwinked and enslaved? It is impossible to know, she has

already shown such devotion to the mere prestige of a name.

On England no dependence can be placed. She is guided by no great

idea; her Parliamentary leaders sneer at sentimental policy, and the

"jargon" of ideas. She will act, as always, for her own interest; and

the interest of her present government is becoming more and more the

crushing of the democratic tendency. They are obliged to do it at

home, both in the back and the front parlor; it would not be decent

as yet to have a Spielberg just at home for obstreperous patriots, but

England has so many ships, it is just as easy to transport them to

a safe distance. Then the Church of England, so long an enemy to the

Church of Rome, feels a decided interest with it on the subject of

temporal possessions. The rich English traveller, fearing to see the

Prince Borghese stripped of one of his palaces for a hospital or

some such low use, thinks of his own twenty-mile park and the crowded

village of beggars at its gate, and muses: "I hope to see them all

shot yet, these rascally republicans."

How I wish my country would show some noble sympathy when an

experience so like her own is going on. Politically she cannot

interfere; but formerly, when Greece and Poland were struggling, they

were at least aided by private contributions. Italy, naturally so

rich, but long racked and impoverished by her oppressors, greatly

needs money to arm and clothe her troops. Some token of sympathy, too,

from America would be so welcome to her now. If there were a circle of

persons inclined to trust such to me, I might venture to promise the

trust should be used to the advantage of Italy. It would make me proud

to have my country show a religious faith in the progress of ideas,

and make some small sacrifice of its own great resources in aid of a

sister cause, now.

But I must close this letter, which it would be easy to swell to a

volume from the materials in my mind. One or two traits of the hour I

must note. Mazzarelli, chief of the present ministry, was a prelate,

and named spontaneously by the Pope before his flight. He has

shown entire and frank intrepidity. He has laid aside the title of

Monsignor, and appears before the world as a layman.

Nothing can be more tranquil than has been the state of Rome all

winter. Every wile has been used by the Oscurantists to excite the

people, but their confidence in their leaders could not be broken.

A little mutiny in the troops, stimulated by letters from their old

leaders, was quelled in a moment. The day after the proclamation of

the Republic, some zealous ignoramuses insulted the carriages that

appeared with servants in livery. The ministry published a grave

admonition, that democracy meant liberty, not license, and that he

who infringed upon an innocent freedom of action in others must

be declared traitor to his country. Every act of the kind ceased

instantly. An intimation that it was better not to throw large comfits

or oranges during the Carnival, as injuries have thus been sometimes

caused, was obeyed with equal docility.

On Sunday last, placards affixed in the high places summoned the city

to invest Giuseppe Mazzini with the rights of a Roman citizen. I have

not yet heard the result. The Pope made Rossi a Roman citizen; he was

suffered to retain that title only one day. It was given him on the

14th of November, he died the 15th. Mazzini enters Rome at any rate,

for the first time in his life, as deputy to the Constitutional

Assembly; it would be a noble poetic justice, if he could enter also

as a Roman citizen.

February 24.

The Austrians have invaded Ferrara, taken $200,000 and six hostages,

and retired. This step is, no doubt, intended to determine whether

France will resent the insult, or whether she will betray Italy. It

shows also the assurance of the Austrian that the Pope will approve

of an armed intervention. Probably before I write again these matters

will reach some decided crisis.

LETTER XXIX.

THE ROMAN REPUBLIC.--CHARLES ALBERT A TRAITOR.--FALL OF

GIOBERTI.--MAZZINI.--HIS CHARACTER.--HIS ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE.--HIS

ORATORY.--AMERICAN ARTISTS.--BROWN, TERRY, AND FREEMAN.--HICKS AND

HIS PICTURES.--CROPSEY AND CRANCH CONTRASTED.--AMERICAN

LANDSCAPE PAINTINGS.--SCULPTORS.--STORY'S "FISHER BOY."--MOZIER'S

"POCAHONTAS."--GREENOUGH'S GROUP.--POWERS'S "SLAVE."--THE

EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF WASHINGTON.--CRAWFORD'S DESIGN.--TRIALS OF THE

ARTIST.--AMERICAN PATRONS OF ART.--EXPENSES OF ARTIST LIFE.--A GERMAN

SCULPTOR.--OVERBECK AND HIS PAINTINGS.--FESTIVAL OF FRIED RICE.--AN

AVE MARIA.

Rome, March 20, 1849.

The Roman Republic moves on better than could have been expected.

There are great difficulties about money, necessarily, as the

government, so beset with trials and dangers, cannot command

confidence in that respect. The solid coin has crept out of

the country or lies hid, and in the use of paper there are the

corresponding inconveniences. But the poor, always the chief sufferers

from such a state of things, are wonderfully patient, and I doubt not

that the new form, if Italy could be left to itself, would be settled

for the advantage of all. Tuscany would soon be united with Rome, and

to the Republic of Central Italy, no longer broken asunder by petty

restrictions and sacrificed to the interests of a few persons, would

come that prosperity natural to a region so favored by nature.

Could Italy be left alone! But treacherous, selfish men at home strive

to betray, and foes threaten her from without on every side. Even

France, her natural ally, promises to prove foolishly and basely

faithless. The dereliction from principle of her government seems

certain, and thus far the nation, despite the remonstrance of a few

worthy men, gives no sign of effective protest. There would be little

hope for Italy, were not the thrones of her foes in a tottering state,

their action liable at every moment to be distracted by domestic

difficulties. The Austrian government seems as destitute of support

from the nation as is possible for a government to be, and the army is

no longer what it was, being made up so largely of new recruits. The

Croats are uncertain in their adhesion, the war in Hungary likely to

give them much to do; and if the Russian is called in, the rest of

Europe becomes hostile. All these circumstances give Italy a chance

she otherwise could not have; she is in great measure unfurnished with

arms and money; her king in the South is a bloody, angry, well-armed

foe; her king in the North, a proved traitor. Charles Albert has now

declared, war because he could not do otherwise; but his sympathies

are in fact all against liberty; the splendid lure that he might

become king of Italy glitters no more; the Republicans are in the

ascendant, and he may well doubt, should the stranger be driven out,

whether Piedmont could escape the contagion. Now, his people insisting

on war, he has the air of making it with a good grace; but should he

be worsted, probably he will know some loophole by which to steal out.

The rat will get out and leave the lion in the trap.

The "illustrious Gioberti" has fallen,--fallen for ever from his high

scaffold of words. His demerits were too unmistakable for rhetoric to

hide. That he sympathized with the Pope rather than the Roman people,

and could not endure to see him stripped of his temporal power, no

one could blame in the author of the _Primato_. That he refused the

Italian General Assembly, if it was to be based on the so-called

Montanelli system instead of his own, might be conviction, or it might

be littleness and vanity. But that he privily planned, without even

adherence of the council of ministers, an armed intervention of the

Piedmontese troops in Tuscany, thus willing to cause civil war, and,

at this great moment, to see Italian blood shed by Italian hands, was

treachery. I think, indeed, he has been probably made the scape-goat

in that affair; that Charles Albert planned the measure, and, finding

himself unable to carry it out, in consequence of the vigilance and

indignant opposition of the Chamber of Deputies, was somewhat consoled

by making it an occasion to victimize the "Illustrious," whom four

weeks before the people had forced him to accept as his minister.

Now the name of Gioberti is erased from the corners of the streets to

which it was affixed a year ago; he is stripped of all his honorary

degrees, and proclaimed an unworthy son of the country. Mazzini is

the idol of the people. "Soon to be hunted out," sneered the sceptical

American. Possibly yes; for no man is secure of his palm till the

fight is over. The civic wreath may be knocked from his head a hundred

times in the ardor of the contest. No matter, if he can always keep

the forehead pure and lofty, as will Mazzini.

In thinking of Mazzini, I always remember Petrarch's invocation to

Rienzi. Mazzini comes at a riper period in the world's history, with

the same energy of soul, but of purer temper and more enlarged views

to answer them.

I do not know whether I mentioned a kind of poetical correspondence

about Mazzini and Rossi. Rossi was also an exile for liberal

principles, but he did not value his birthright; he alienated it, and

as a French citizen became peer of France and representative of Louis

Philippe in Italy. When, with the fatuity of those whom the gods

have doomed to perish, Pius IX. took the representative of the fallen

Guizot policy for his minister, he made him a Roman citizen. He was

proclaimed such on the 14th of November. On the 15th he perished,

before he could enter the parliament he had called. He fell at the

door of the Cancelleria when it was sitting.

Mazzini, in his exile, remained absolutely devoted to his native

country. Because, though feeling as few can that the interests of

humanity in all nations are identical, he felt also that, born of a

race so suffering, so much needing devotion and energy, his first

duty was to that. The only powers he acknowledged were _God and the

People_, the special scope of his acts the unity and independence of

Italy. Rome was the theme of his thoughts, but, very early exiled,

he had never seen that home to which all the orphans of the soul

so naturally turn. Now he entered it as a Roman citizen, elected

representative of the people by universal suffrage. His motto, _Dio

e Popolo_, is put upon the coin with the Roman eagle; unhappily this

first-issued coin is of brass, or else of silver, with much alloy.

_Dii, avertite omen_, and may peaceful days turn it all to pure gold!

On his first entrance to the house, Mazzini, received with fervent

applause and summoned, to take his place beside the President, spoke

as follows:--

"It is from me, colleagues, that should come these tokens of applause,

these tokens of affection, because the little good I have not done,

but tried to do, has come to me from Rome. Rome was always a sort of

talisman for me; a youth, I studied the history of Italy, and found,

while all the other nations were born, grew up, played their part in

the world, then fell to reappear no more in the same power, a single

city was privileged by God to die only to rise again greater than

before, to fulfil a mission greater than the first. I saw the Rome

of the Empire extend her conquests from the confines of Africa to the

confines of Asia. I saw Rome perish, crushed by the barbarians, by

those whom even yet the world, calls barbarians. I saw her rise

again, after having chased away these same barbarians, reviving in

its sepulchre the germ of Civilization. I saw her rise more great

for conquest, not with arms, but with words,--rise in the name of the

Popes to repeat her grand mission. I said in my heart, the city which

alone in the world has had two grand lives, one greater than the

other, will have a third. After the Rome which wrought by conquest of

arms, the Rome which wrought by conquest of words, must come a third

which shall work by virtue of example. After the Rome of the Emperors,

after the Rome of the Popes, will come the Rome of the People. The

Rome of the People is arisen; do not salute with applauses, but let

us rejoice together! I cannot promise anything for myself, except

concurrence in all you shall do for the good of Rome, of Italy, of

mankind. Perhaps we shall have to pass through great crises; perhaps

we shall have to fight a sacred battle against the only enemy that

threatens us,--Austria. We will fight it, and we will conquer. I hope,

please God, that foreigners may not be able to say any more that which

so many of them repeat to-day, speaking of our affairs,--that the

light which, comes from Rome is only an _ignis fatuus_ wandering among

the tombs. The world shall see that it is a starry light, eternal,

pure, and resplendent as those we look up to in the heavens!"

On a later day he spoke more fully of the difficulties that threaten

at home the young republic, and said:--

"Let us not hear of Right, of Left, of Centre; these terms express

the three powers in a constitutional monarchy; for us they have

no meaning; the only divisions for us are of Republicans or

non-Republicans,--or of sincere men and temporizing men. Let us not

hear so much of the Republicans of to-day and of yesterday; I am a

Republican of twenty years' standing. Entertaining such hopes for

Italy, when many excellent, many sincere men held them as Utopian,

shall I denounce these men because they are now convinced of their

practicability?"

This last I quote from memory. In hearing the gentle tone of

remonstrance with those of more petty mind, or influenced by the

passions of the partisan, I was forcibly reminded of the parable by

Jesus, of the vineyard and the discontent of the laborers that those

who came at the eleventh hour "received also a penny." Mazzini also is

content that all should fare alike as brethren, if only they will come

into the vineyard. He is not an orator, but the simple conversational

tone of his address is in refreshing contrast with the boyish rhetoric

and academic swell common to Italian speakers in the present unfledged

state. As they have freer use of the power of debate, they will

become more simple and manly. The speech of Mazzini is laden with

thought,--it goes straight to the mark by the shortest path, and moves

without effort, from the irresistible impression of deep conviction

and fidelity in the speaker. Mazzini is a man of genius, an elevated

thinker; but the most powerful and first impression from his presence

must always be of the religion of his soul, of his _virtue_, both in

the modern and antique sense of that word.

If clearness of right, if energy, if indefatigable perseverance, can

steer the ship through this dangerous pass, it will be done. He said,

"We will conquer"; whether Rome will, this time, is not to me certain,

but such men as Mazzini conquer always,--conquer in defeat. Yet Heaven

grant that no more blood, no more corruption of priestly government,

be for Italy. It could only be for once more, for the strength, of her

present impulse would not fail to triumph at last; but even one more

trial seems too intolerably much, when I think of the holocaust of the

broken hearts, baffled lives, that must attend it.

But enough of politics for the present; this letter goes by private

hand, and, as news, will be superseded before it can arrive.

Let me rather take the opportunity to say some things that I have let

lie by, while writing of political events. Especially of our artists I

wish to say something. I know many of thorn, if not all, and see with

pleasure our young country so fairly represented.

Among the painters I saw of Brown only two or three pictures at the

exhibition in Florence; they were coarse, flashy things. I was told

he could do better; but a man who indulges himself with such, coarse

sale-work cannot surely do well at any time.

The merits of Terry and Freeman are not my merits; they are beside

both favorites in our country, and have a sufficient number of

pictures there for every one to judge. I am no connoisseur as regards

the technical merits of paintings; it is only poetic invention, or a

tender feeling of nature, which captivates me.

Terry loves grace, and consciously works from the model. The result is

a pleasing transposition of the hues of this clime. But the design of

the picture is never original, nor is it laden with any message from,

the heart. Of Freeman I know less; as the two or three pictures of his

that I have seen never interested me. I have not visited his studio.

Of Hicks I think very highly. He is a man of ideas, an original

observer, and with a poetic heart. His system of coloring is derived

from a thoughtful study, not a mere imitation of nature, and shows

the fineness of his organization. Struggling unaided to pursue the

expensive studies of his art, he has had only a small studio, and

received only orders for little cabinet pictures. Could, he carry out

adequately his ideas, in him would be found the treasure of genius. He

has made the drawings for a large picture of many figures; the design

is original and noble, the grouping highly effective. Could he paint

this picture, I believe it would be a real boon to the lovers of art,

the lovers of truth. I hope very much that, when he returns to the

United States, some competent patron of art--one of the few who have

mind as well as purse--will see the drawings and order the picture.

Otherwise he cannot paint it, as the expenses attendant on models

for so many figures, &c. are great, and the time demanded could not

otherwise be taken from the claims of the day.

Among landscape painters Cropsey and Cranch have the true artist

spirit. In faculties, each has what the other wants. Cropsey is a

reverent and careful student of nature in detail; it is no pedantry,

but a true love he has, and his pictures are full of little, gentle

signs of intimacy. They please and touch; but yet in poetic feeling

of the heart of nature he is not equal to Cranch, who produces

fine effects by means more superficial, and, on examination, less

satisfactory. Each might take somewhat from the other to advantage,

could he do it without diminishing his own original dower. Both are

artists of high promise, and deserve to be loved and cherished by

a country which may, without presumption, hope to carry landscape

painting to a pitch of excellence unreached before. For the historical

painter, the position with us is, for many reasons, not favorable;

but there is no bar in the way of the landscape painter, and fate,

bestowing such a prodigality of subject, seems to give us a hint not

to be mistaken. I think the love of landscape painting is genuine in

our nation, and as it is a branch of art where achievement has been

comparatively low, we may not unreasonably suppose it has been left

for us. I trust it will be undertaken in the highest spirit. Nature,

it seems to me, reveals herself more freely in our land; she is true,

virgin, and confiding,--she smiles upon the vision of a true Endymion.

I hope to see, not only copies upon canvas of our magnificent scenes,

but a transfusion of the spirit which is their divinity.

Then why should the American landscape painter come to Italy? cry

many. I think, myself, he ought not to stay here very long. Yet a few

years' study is precious, for here Nature herself has worked with man,

as if she wanted to help him in the composition of pictures. The ruins

of Italy, in their varied relations with vegetation and the heavens,

make speeches from every stone for instruction of the artist; the

greatest variety here is found with the greatest harmony. To know how

this union may be accomplished is a main secret of art, and though the

coloring is not the same, yet he who has the key to its mysteries of

beauty is the more initiated to the same in other climates, and

will easily attune afresh his more instructed eye and mind to the

contemplation of that which moulded his childhood.

I may observe of the two artists I have named, that Cranch has entered

more into the spirit of Italian landscape, while Cropsey is still more

distinguished on subjects such as he first loved. He seemed to find

the Scotch lake and mountain scenery very congenial; his sketches and

pictures taken from a short residence there are impressive. Perhaps a

melancholy or tender subject suits him best; something rich, bold, and

mellow is more adapted to call out the genius of Cranch.

Among the sculptors new names rise up, to show that this is decidedly

a province for hope in America. I look upon this as the natural talent

of an American, and have no doubt that glories will be displayed by

our sculptors unknown to classic art. The facts of our history, ideal

and social, will be grand and of new import; it is perfectly natural

to the American to mould in clay and carve in stone. The permanence of

material and solid, relief in the forms correspond to the positiveness

of his nature better than the mere ephemeral and even tricky methods

of the painter,--to his need of motion and action, better than

the chambered scribbling of the poet. He will thus record his best

experiences, and these records will adorn the noble structures that

must naturally arise for the public uses of our society.

It is particularly gratifying to see men that might amass far more

money and attain more temporary power in other things, despise those

lower lures, too powerful in our country, and aim only at excellence

in the expression of thought. Among these I may mention Story and

Mozier. Story has made in Florence the model for a statue of his

father. This I have not seen, but two statuettes that he modelled

here from the "Fisher" of Goethe pleased me extremely. The languid,

meditative reverie of the boy, the morbid tenderness of his nature, is

most happily expressed in the first, as is the fascinated surrender to

the siren murmur of tire flood in the second. He has taken the moment

"Half drew she him; half sank he in," &c.

I hope some one will give him an order to make them in marble. Mozier

seemed to have an immediate success. The fidelity and spirit of his

portrait-busts could be appreciated by every one; for an ideal head of

Pocahontas, too, he had at once orders for many copies. It was not

an Indian head, but, in the union of sweetness and strength with a

princelike, childlike dignity, very happily expressive of his idea of

her character. I think he has modelled a Rebecca at the Well, but this

I did not see.

These have already a firm hold on the affections of our people; every

American who comes to Italy visits their studios, and speaks of them

with pride, as indeed they well may, in comparing them with artists of

other nations. It will not be long before you see Greenough's group;

it is in spirit a pendant to Cooper's novels. I confess I wish he

had availed himself of the opportunity to immortalize the real noble

Indian in marble. This is only the man of the woods,--no Metamora, no

Uncas. But the group should be very instructive to our people.

You seem as crazy about Powers's Greek Slave as the Florentines were

about Cimabue's Madonnas, in which we still see the spark of genius,

but not fanned to its full flame. If your enthusiasm be as genuine as

that of the lively Florentines, we will not quarrel with it; but I

am afraid a great part is drawing-room rapture and newspaper echo.

Genuine enthusiasm, however crude the state of mind from which it

springs, always elevates, always educates; but in the same proportion

talking and writing for effect stultifies and debases. I shall not

judge the adorers of the Greek Slave, but only observe, that they have

not kept in reserve any higher admiration for works even now extant,

which are, in comparison with that statue, what that statue is

compared with any weeping marble on a common monument.

I consider the Slave as a form of simple and sweet beauty, but that

neither as an ideal expression nor a specimen of plastic power is it

transcendent. Powers stands far higher in his busts than in any ideal

statue. His conception of what is individual in character is clear

and just, his power of execution almost unrivalled; but he has had a

lifetime of discipline for the bust, while his studies on the human

body are comparatively limited; nor is his treatment of it free and

masterly. To me, his conception of subject is not striking: I do not

consider him rich in artistic thought.

He, no less than Greenough and Crawford, would feel it a rich reward

for many labors, and a happy climax to their honors, to make an

equestrian statue of Washington for our country. I wish they might all

do it, as each would show a different kind of excellence. To present

the man on horseback, the wise centaur, the tamer of horses, may well

be deemed a high achievement of modern, as it was of ancient art. The

study of the anatomy and action of the horse, so rich in suggestions,

is naturally most desirable to the artist; happy he who, obliged

by the brevity of life and the limitations of fortune, to make his

studies conform to his "orders," finds himself justified by a national

behest in entering on this department.

At home one gets callous about the character of Washington, from a

long experience of Fourth of July bombast in his praise. But seeing

the struggles of other nations, and the deficiencies of the leaders

who try to sustain them, the heart is again stimulated, and puts forth

buds of praise. One appreciates the wonderful combination of events

and influences that gave our independence so healthy a birth, and the

almost miraculous merits of the men who tended its first motions. In

the combination of excellences needed at such a period with the purity

and modesty which dignify the private man in the humblest station,

Washington as yet stands alone. No country has ever had such a good

future; no other is so happy as to have a pattern of spotless worth

which will remain in her latest day venerable as now.

Surely, then, that form should be immortalized in material solid as

its fame; and, happily for the artist, that form was of natural beauty

and dignity, and he who places him on horseback simply represents his

habitual existence. Everything concurs to make an equestrian statue of

Washington desirable.

The dignified way to manage that affair would be to have a committee

chosen of impartial judges, men who would look only to the merits of

the work and the interests of the country, unbiassed by any personal

interest in favor of some one artist. It is said it is impossible to

find such a committee, but I cannot believe it. Let there be put aside

the mean squabbles and jealousies, the vulgar pushing of unworthy

friends, with which, unhappily, the artist's career seems more rife

than any other, and a fair concurrence established; let each artist

offer his design for an equestrian statue of Washington, and let the

best have the preference.

Mr. Crawford has made a design which he takes with him to America, and

which, I hope, will be generally seen. He has represented Washington

in his actual dress; a figure of Fame, winged, presents the laurel and

civic wreath; his gesture declines them; he seems to say, "For me the

deed is enough,--I need no badge, no outward, token in reward."

This group has no insipid, allegorical air, as might be supposed; and

its composition is very graceful, simple, and harmonious. The costume

is very happily managed. The angel figure is draped, and with, the

liberty-cap, which, as a badge both of ancient and modern times, seems

to connect the two figures, and in an artistic point of view balances

well the cocked hat; there is a similar harmony between the angel's

wings and the extremities of the horse. The action of the winged

figure induces a natural and spirited action of the horse and rider. I

thought of Goethe's remark, that a fine work of art will always have,

at a distance, where its details cannot be discerned, a beautiful

effect, as of architectural ornament, and that this excellence the

groups of Raphael share with the antique. He would have been pleased

with the beautiful balance of forms in this group, with the freedom

with which light and air play in and out, the management of the whole

being clear and satisfactory at the first glance. But one should go

into a great number of studies, as you can in Rome or Florence, and

see the abundance of heavy and inharmonious designs to appreciate the

merits of this; anything really good seems so simple and so a matter

of course to the unpractised observer.

Some say the Americans will not want a group, but just the fact; the

portrait of Washington riding straight onward, like Marcus Aurelius,

or making an address, or lifting his sword. I do not know about

that,--it is a matter of feeling. This winged figure not only gives

a poetic sense to the group, but a natural support and occasion for

action to the horse and rider. Uncle Sam must send Major Downing to

look at it, and then, if he wants other designs, let him establish

a concurrence, as I have said, and choose what is best. I am not

particularly attached to Mr. Greenough, Mr. Powers, or Mr. Crawford. I

admire various excellences in the works of each, and should be glad

if each received an order for an equestrian statue. Nor is there any

reason why they should not. There is money enough in the country, and

the more good things there are for the people to see freely in open

daylight, the better. That makes artists germinate.

I love the artists, though I cannot speak of their works in a way to

content their friends, or even themselves, often. Who can, that has a

standard of excellence in the mind, and a delicate conscience in

the use of words? My highest tribute is meagre of superlatives in

comparison with the hackneyed puffs with which artists submit to

be besmeared. Submit? alas! often they court them, rather. I do not

expect any kindness from my contemporaries. I know that what is to

me justice and honor is to them only a hateful coldness. Still I

love them, I wish for their good, I feel deeply for their sufferings,

annoyances, privations, and would lessen them if I could. I have

thought it might perhaps be of use to publish some account of the

expenses of the artist. There is a general impression, that the artist

lives very cheaply in Italy. This is a mistake. Italy, compared

with America, is not so very cheap, except for those who have iron

constitutions to endure bad food, eaten in bad air, damp and dirty

lodgings. The expenses, even in Florence, of a simple but clean and

wholesome life, are little less than in New York. The great difference

is for people that are rich. An Englishman of rank and fortune does

not need the same amount of luxury as at home, to be on a footing with

the nobles of Italy. The Broadway merchant would find his display of

mahogany and carpets thrown away in a country where a higher kind of

ornament is the only one available. But poor people, who can, at any

rate, buy only the necessaries of life, will find them in the Italian

cities, where all sellers live by cheating foreigners, very little

cheaper than in America.

The patrons of Art in America, ignorant of these facts, and not

knowing the great expenses which attend the study of Art and the

production of its wonders, are often guilty of most undesigned

cruelty, and do things which it would grieve their hearts to have

done, if they only knew the facts. They have read essays on the uses

of adversity in developing genius, and they are not sufficiently

afraid to administer a dose of adversity beyond what the forces of

the patient can bear. Laudanum in drops is useful as a medicine, but a

cupful kills downright.

Beside this romantic idea about letting artists suffer to develop

their genius, the American Mæcenas is not sufficiently aware of

the expenses attendant on producing the work he wants. He does not

consider that the painter, the sculptor, must be paid for the time

he spends in designing and moulding, no less than in painting and

carving; that he must have his bread and sleeping-house, his workhouse

or studio, his marbles and colors,--the sculptor his workmen; so that

if the price be paid he asks, a modest and delicate man very commonly

receives _no_ guerdon for his thought,--the real essence of the

work,--except the luxury of seeing it embodied, which he could not

otherwise have afforded, The American Mæcenas often pushes the price

down, not from want of generosity, but from a habit of making what are

called good bargains,--i.e. bargains for one's own advantage at the

expense of a poorer brother. Those who call these good do not believe

that

"Mankind is one,

And beats with one great heart."

They have not read the life of Jesus Christ.

Then the American Mæcenas sometimes, after ordering a work, has been

known to change his mind when the statue is already modelled. It is

the American who does these things, because an American, who either

from taste or vanity buys a picture, is often quite uneducated as to

the arts, and cannot understand why a little picture or figure costs

so much money. The Englishman or Frenchman, of a suitable position to

seek these adornments for his house, usually understands better than

the visitor of Powers who, on hearing the price of the Proserpine,

wonderingly asked, "Isn't statuary riz lately?" Queen Victoria of

England, and her Albert, it is said, use their royal privilege to get

works of art at a price below their value; but their subjects would be

ashamed to do so.

To supply means of judging to the American merchant (full of kindness

and honorable sympathy as beneath the crust he so often is) who wants

pictures and statues, not merely from ostentation, but as means of

delight and improvement to himself and his friends, who has a soul to

respect the genius and desire the happiness of the artist, and who,

if he errs, does so from ignorance of the circumstances, I give the

following memorandum, made at my desire by an artist, my neighbor:--

"The rent of a suitable studio for modelling in clay and executing

statues in marble may be estimated at $200 a year.

"The best journeyman carver in marble at Rome receives $60 a month.

Models are paid $1 a day.

"The cost of marble varies according to the size of the block, being

generally sold by the cubic palm, a square of nine inches English.

As a general guide regarding the prices established among the higher

sculptors of Rome, I may mention that for a statue of life-size the

demand is from $1,000 to $5,000, varying according to the composition

of the figure and the number of accessories.

"It is a common belief in the United States, that a student of Art can

live in Italy and pursue his studies on an income of $300 or $400 a

year. This is a lamentable error; the Russian government allows its

pensioners $700, which is scarcely sufficient. $1,000 per annum should

be placed at the disposal of every young artist leaving our country

for Europe."

Let it be remembered, in addition to considerations inevitable

from this memorandum, that an artist may after years and months of

uncheered and difficult toil, after he has gone through the earlier

stages of an education, find it too largely based, and of aim too

high, to finish in this world.

The Prussian artist here on my left hand learned not only his art,

but reading and writing, after he was thirty. A farmer's son, he was

allowed no freedom to learn anything till the death of the head of

the house left him a beggar, but set him free; he walked to Berlin,

distant several hundred miles, attracted by his first works some

attention, and received some assistance in money, earned more by

invention of a ploughshare, walked to Rome, struggled through every

privation, and has now a reputation which has secured him the means of

putting his thoughts into marble. True, at forty-nine years of age he

is still severely poor; he cannot marry, because he cannot maintain a

family; but he is cheerful, because he can work in his own way, trusts

with childlike reliance in God, and is still sustained by the vigorous

health he won laboring in his father's fields. Not every man

could continue to work, circumstanced as he is, at the end of the

half-century. For him the only sad thing in my mind is that his works

are not worth working, though of merit in composition and execution,

yet ideally a product of the galvanized piety of the German school,

more mutton-like than lamb-like to my unchurched eyes.

You are likely to have a work to look at in the United States by the

great master of that school, Overbeck; Mr. Perkins of Boston, who

knows how to spend his money with equal generosity and discretion,

having bought his "Wise and Foolish Virgins." It will be precious to

the country from great artistic merits. As to the spirit, "blessed are

the poor in spirit." That kind of severity is, perhaps has become, the

nature of Overbeck. He seems like a monk, but a really pious and pure

one. This spirit is not what I seek; I deem it too narrow for our

day, but being deeply sincere in him, its expression is at times also

deeply touching. Barabbas borne in triumph, and the child Jesus,

who, playing with his father's tools, has made himself a cross, are

subjects best adapted for expression of this spirit.

I have written too carelessly,--much writing hath made me mad of late.

Forgive if the "style be not neat, terse, and sparkling," if there be

naught of the "thrilling," if the sentences seem not "written with a

diamond pen," like all else that is published in America. Some time I

must try to do better. For this time

"Forgive my faults; forgive my virtues too."

March 21.

Day before yesterday was the Feast of St. Joseph. He is supposed to

have acquired a fondness for fried rice-cakes during his residence

in Egypt. Many are eaten in the open street, in arbors made for the

occasion. One was made beneath my window, on Piazza Barberini. All the

day and evening men, cleanly dressed in white aprons and liberty

caps, quite new, of fine, red cloth, were frying cakes for crowds of

laughing, gesticulating customers. It rained a little, and they held

an umbrella over the frying-pan, but not over themselves. The arbor

is still there, and little children are playing in and out of it; one

still lesser runs in its leading-strings, followed by the bold, gay

nurse, to the brink of the fountain, after its orange which has

rolled before it. Tenerani's workmen are coming out of his studio,

the priests are coming home from Ponte Pio, the Contadini beginning

to play at _moro_, for the setting sun has just lit up the magnificent

range of windows in the Palazzo Barberini, and then faded tenderly,

sadly away, and the mellow bells have chimed the Ave Maria. Rome looks

as Roman, that is to say as tranquil, as ever, despite the trouble

that tugs at her heart-strings. There is a report that Mazzini is to

be made Dictator, as Manin is in Venice, for a short time, so as to

provide hastily and energetically for the war. Ave Maria Sanissima!

when thou didst gaze on thy babe with such infinite hope, thou didst

not dream that, so many ages after, blood would be shed and curses

uttered in his name. Madonna Addolorata! hadst thou not hoped peace

and good-will would spring from his bloody woes, couldst thou have

borne those hours at the foot of the cross. O Stella! woman's heart of

love, send yet a ray of pure light on this troubled deep?

LETTER XXX.

THE STRUGGLE IN ROME.--POSITION OF THE FRENCH.--THE

AUSTRIANS.--FEELING OF THE ROMAN PEOPLE.--THE FRENCH TROOPS.--EFFECTS

OF WAR.--HOSPITALS.--THE PRINCESS BELGIOIOSO.--POSITION OF MR. CASS AS

ENVOY.--DIFFICULTIES AND SUGGESTIONS.--AMERICA AND ROME.--REFLECTIONS

ON THE ETERNAL CITY.--THE FRENCH: THE PEOPLE.

Rome, May 27, 1849.

I have suspended writing in the expectation of some decisive event;

but none such comes yet. The French, entangled in a web of falsehood,

abashed by a defeat that Oudinot has vainly tried to gloss over, the

expedition disowned by all honorable men at home, disappointed at

Gaëta, not daring to go the length Papal infatuation demands, know not

what to do. The Neapolitans have been decidedly driven back into their

own borders, the last time in a most shameful rout, their king flying

in front. We have heard for several days that the Austrians were

advancing, but they come not. They also, it is probable, meet with

unexpected embarrassments. They find that the sincere movement of the

Italian people is very unlike that of troops commanded by princes

and generals who never wished to conquer and were always waiting to

betray. Then their troubles at home are constantly increasing, and,

should the Russian intervention quell these to-day, it is only to

raise a storm far more terrible to-morrow.

The struggle is now fairly, thoroughly commenced between the principle

of democracy and the old powers, no longer legitimate. That struggle

may last fifty years, and the earth be watered with the blood and

tears of more than one generation, but the result is sure. All Europe,

including Great Britain, where the most bitter resistance of all will

be made, is to be under republican government in the next century.

"God moves in a mysterious way."

Every struggle made by the old tyrannies, all their Jesuitical

deceptions, their rapacity, their imprisonments and executions of the

most generous men, only sow more dragon's teeth; the crop shoots up

daily more and more plenteous.

When I first arrived in Italy, the vast majority of this people had no

wish beyond limited monarchies, constitutional governments. They still

respected the famous names of the nobility; they despised the priests,

but were still fondly attached to the dogmas and ritual of the Roman

Catholic Church. It required King Bomba, the triple treachery

of Charles Albert, Pius IX., and the "illustrious Gioberti," the

naturally kind-hearted, but, from the necessity of his position,

cowardly and false Leopold of Tuscany, the vagabond "serene"

meannesses of Parma and Modena, the "fatherly" Radetzsky, and,

finally, the imbecile Louis Bonaparte, "would-be Emperor of France,"

to convince this people that no transition is possible between the

old and the new. _The work is done_; the revolution in Italy is now

radical, nor can it stop till Italy becomes independent and united as

a republic. Protestant she already is, and though the memory of saints

and martyrs may continue to be revered, the ideal of woman to be

adored under the name of Mary, yet Christ will now begin to be a

little thought of; _his_ idea has always been kept carefully out of

sight under the old _régime_; all the worship being for the Madonna

and saints, who were to be well paid for interceding for sinners;--an

example which might make men cease to be such, was no way coveted. Now

the New Testament has been translated into Italian; copies are already

dispersed far and wide; men calling themselves Christians will no

longer be left entirely ignorant of the precepts and life of Jesus.

The people of Rome have burnt the Cardinals' carriages. They took the

confessionals out of the churches, and made mock confessions in the

piazzas, the scope of which was, "I have sinned, father, so and so."

"Well, my son, how much will you _pay_ to the Church for absolution?"

Afterward the people thought of burning the confessionals, or using

them for barricades; but at the request of the Triumvirate they

desisted, and even put them back into the churches. But it was from no

reaction of feeling that they stopped short, only from respect for

the government. The "Tartuffe" of Molière has been translated into

Italian, and was last night performed with great applause at the

Valle. Can all this be forgotten? Never! Should guns and bayonets

replace the Pope on the throne, he will find its foundations, once

deep as modern civilization, now so undermined that it falls with the

least awkward movement.

But I cannot believe he will be replaced there. France alone could

consummate that crime,--that, for her, most cruel, most infamous

treason. The elections in France will decide. In three or four days

we shall know whether the French nation at large be guilty or

no,--whether it be the will of the nation to aid or strive to ruin a

government founded on precisely the same basis as their own.

I do not dare to trust that people. The peasant is yet very ignorant.

The suffering workman is frightened as he thinks of the punishments

that ensued on the insurrections of May and June. The man of property

is full of horror at the brotherly scope of Socialism. The aristocrat

dreams of the guillotine always when he hears men speak of the people.

The influence of the Jesuits is still immense in France. Both in

France and England the grossest falsehoods have been circulated with

unwearied diligence about the state of things in Italy. An amusing

specimen of what is still done in this line I find just now in a

foreign journal, where it says there are red flags on all the houses

of Rome; meaning to imply that the Romans are athirst for blood. Now,

the fact is, that these flags are put up at the entrance of those

streets where there is no barricade, as a signal to coachmen and

horsemen that they can pass freely. There is one on the house where

I am, in which is no person but myself, who thirst for peace, and the

Padrone, who thirsts for money.

Meanwhile the French troops are encamped at a little distance from

Rome. Some attempts at fair and equal treaty when their desire to

occupy Rome was firmly resisted, Oudinot describes in his despatches

as a readiness for _submission_. Having tried in vain to gain this

point, he has sent to France for fresh orders. These will be decided

by the turn the election takes. Meanwhile the French troops are much

exposed to the Roman force where they are. Should the Austrians come

up, what will they do? Will they shamelessly fraternize with the

French, after pretending and proclaiming that they came here as a

check upon their aggressions? Will they oppose them in defence of

Rome, with which they are at war?

Ah! the way of falsehood, the way of treachery,--how dark, how full of

pitfalls and traps! Heaven defend from it all who are not yet engaged

therein!

War near at hand seems to me even more dreadful than I had fancied

it. True, it tries men's souls, lays bare selfishness in undeniable

deformity. Here it has produced much fruit of noble sentiment, noble

act; but still it breeds vice too, drunkenness, mental dissipation,

tears asunder the tenderest ties, lavishes the productions of Earth,

for which her starving poor stretch out their hands in vain, in the

most unprofitable manner. And the ruin that ensues, how terrible! Let

those who have ever passed happy days in Rome grieve to hear that

the beautiful plantations of Villa Borghese--that chief delight and

refreshment of citizens, foreigners, and little children--are laid

low, as far as the obelisk. The fountain, singing alone amid the

fallen groves, cannot be seen and heard without tears; it seems like

some innocent infant calling and crowing amid dead bodies on a field

which battle has strewn with the bodies of those who once cherished

it. The plantations of Villa Salvage on the Tiber, also, the beautiful

trees on the way from St. John Lateran to La Maria Maggiore, the trees

of the Forum, are fallen. Rome is shorn of the locks which lent grace

to her venerable brow. She looks desolate, profaned. I feel what I

never expected to,--as if I might by and by be willing to leave Rome.

Then I have, for the first time, seen what wounded men suffer. The

night of the 30th of April I passed in the hospital, and saw the

terrible agonies of those dying or who needed amputation, felt their

mental pains and longing for the loved ones who were away; for many of

these were Lombards, who had come from the field of Novarra to fight

with a fairer chance,--many were students of the University, who had

enlisted and thrown themselves into the front of the engagement. The

impudent falsehoods of the French general's despatches are incredible.

The French were never decoyed on in any way. They were received with

every possible mark of hostility. They were defeated in open field,

the Garibaldi legion rushing out to meet them; and though they

suffered much from the walls, they sustained themselves nowhere. They

never put up a white flag till they wished to surrender. The vanity

that strives to cover over these facts is unworthy of men. The only

excuse for the imprudent conduct of the expedition is that they were

deceived, not by the Romans here, but by the priests of Gaëta, leading

them to expect action in their favor within the walls. These priests

themselves were deluded by their hopes and old habits of mind. The

troops did not fight well, and General Oudinot abandoned his wounded

without proper care. All this says nothing against French valor,

proved by ages of glory, beyond the doubt of their worst foes. They

were demoralized because they fought in so bad a cause, and there was

no sincere ardor or clear hope in any breast.

But to return to the hospitals: these were put in order, and have been

kept so, by the Princess Belgioioso. The princess was born of one

of the noblest families of the Milanese, a descendant of the great

Trivalzio, and inherited a large fortune. Very early she compromised

it in liberal movements, and, on their failure, was obliged to fly to

Paris, where for a time she maintained herself by writing, and I

think by painting also. A princess so placed naturally excited great

interest, and she drew around her a little court of celebrated men.

After recovering her fortune, she still lived in Paris, distinguished

for her talents and munificence, both toward literary men and her

exiled countrymen. Later, on her estate, called Locate, between Pavia

and Milan, she had made experiments in the Socialist direction with

fine judgment and success. Association for education, for labor, for

transaction of household affairs, had been carried on for several

years; she had spared no devotion of time and money to this object,

loved, and was much beloved by, those objects of her care, and said

she hoped to die there. All is now despoiled and broken up, though it

may be hoped that some seeds of peaceful reform have been sown which

will spring to light when least expected. The princess returned to

Italy in 1847-8, full of hope in Pius IX and Charles Albert. She

showed her usual energy and truly princely heart, sustaining, at her

own expense, a company of soldiers and a journal up to the last sad

betrayal of Milan, August 6th. These days undeceived all the people,

but few of the noblesse; she was one of the few with mind strong

enough to understand the lesson, and is now warmly interested in the

republican movement. From Milan she went to France, but, finding

it impossible to effect anything serious there in behalf of Italy,

returned, and has been in Rome about two months. Since leaving

Milan she receives no income, her possessions being in the grasp of

Radetzky, and cannot know when, if ever, she will again. But as

she worked so largely and well with money, so can she without. She

published an invitation to the Roman women to make lint and bandages,

and offer their services to the wounded; she put the hospitals in

order; in the central one, Trinita de Pellegrini, once the abode where

the pilgrims were received during holy week, and where foreigners

were entertained by seeing their feet washed by the noble dames and

dignitaries of Rome, she has remained day and night since the 30th of

April, when the wounded were first there. Some money she procured at

first by going through Rome, accompanied by two other ladies veiled,

to beg it. Afterward the voluntary contributions were generous; among

the rest, I am proud to say, the Americans in Rome gave $250, of which

a handsome portion came from Mr. Brown, the Consul.

I value this mark of sympathy more because of the irritation and

surprise occasioned here by the position of Mr. Cass, the Envoy. It is

most unfortunate that we should have an envoy here for the first

time, just to offend and disappoint the Romans. When all the other

ambassadors are at Gaëta, ours is in Rome, as if by his presence to

discountenance the republican government, which he does not recognize.

Mr. Cass, it seems, is required by his instructions not to recognize

the government till sure it can be sustained. Now it seems to me that

the only dignified ground for our government, the only legitimate

ground for any republican government, is to recognize for any nation

the government chosen by itself. The suffrage had been correct here,

and the proportion of votes to the whole population was much larger,

it was said by Americans here, than it is in our own country at the

time of contested elections. It had elected an Assembly; that Assembly

had appointed, to meet the exigencies of this time, the Triumvirate.

If any misrepresentations have induced America to believe, as France

affects to have believed, that so large a vote could have been

obtained by moral intimidation, the present unanimity of the

population in resisting such immense odds, and the enthusiasm of their

every expression in favor of the present government, puts the matter

beyond a doubt. The Roman people claims once more to have a national

existence. It declines further serfdom to an ecclesiastical court.

It claims liberty of conscience, of action, and of thought. Should it

fall from its present position, it will not be from, internal dissent,

but from foreign oppression.

Since this is the case, surely our country, if no other, is bound to

recognize the present government _so long as it can sustain itself_.

This position is that to which we have a right: being such, it is no

matter how it is viewed by others. But I dare assert it is the only

respectable one for our country, in the eyes of the Emperor of Russia

himself.

The first, best occasion is past, when Mr. Cass might, had he been

empowered to act as Mr. Rush did in France, have morally strengthened

the staggering republic, which would have found sympathy where alone

it is of permanent value, on the basis of principle. Had it been in

vain, what then? America would have acted honorably; as to our being

compromised thereby with the Papal government, that fear is idle. Pope

and Cardinals have great hopes from America; the giant influence there

is kept up with the greatest care; the number of Catholic writers

in the United States, too, carefully counted. Had our republican

government acknowledged this republican government, the Papal

Camarilla would have respected us more, but not loved us less; for

have we not the loaves and fishes to give, as well as the precious

souls to be saved? Ah! here, indeed, America might go straightforward

with all needful impunity. Bishop Hughes himself need not be

anxious. That first, best occasion has passed, and the unrecognized,

unrecognizing Envoy has given offence, and not comfort, by a presence

that seemed constantly to say, I do not think you can sustain

yourselves. It has wounded both the heart and the pride of Rome. Some

of the lowest people have asked me, "Is it not true that your country

had a war to become free?" "Yes." "Then why do they not feel for us?"

Yet even now it is not too late. If America would only hail

triumphant, though she could not sustain injured Rome, that would

be something. "Can you suppose Rome will triumph," you say, "without

money, and against so potent a league of foes?" I am not sure, but

I hope, for I believe something in the heart of a people when fairly

awakened. I have also a lurking confidence in what our fathers spoke

of so constantly, a providential order of things, by which brute force

and selfish enterprise are sometimes set at naught by aid which seems

to descend from a higher sphere. Even old pagans believed in that,

you know; and I was born in America, Christianized by the

Puritans,--America, freed by eight years' patient suffering, poverty,

and struggle,--America, so cheered in dark days by one spark of

sympathy from a foreign shore,--America, first "recognized" by

Lafayette. I saw him when traversing our country, then great, rich,

and free. Millions of men who owed in part their happiness to what, no

doubt, was once sneered at as romantic sympathy, threw garlands in his

path. It is natural that I should have some faith.

Send, dear America! to thy ambassadors a talisman precious beyond all

that boasted gold of California. Let it loose his tongue to cry, "Long

live the Republic, and may God bless the cause of the people, the

brotherhood of nations and of men,--equality of rights for all." _Viva

America!_

Hail to my country! May she live a free, a glorious, a loving

life, and not perish, like the old dominions, from, the leprosy of

selfishness.

Evening.

I am alone in the ghostly silence of a great house, not long since

full of gay faces and echoing with gay voices, now deserted by every

one but me,--for almost all foreigners are gone now, driven by force

either of the summer heats or the foe. I hear all the Spaniards are

going now,--that twenty-one have taken passports to-day; why that is,

I do not know.

I shall not go till the last moment; my only fear is of France. I

cannot think in any case there would be found men willing to damn

themselves to latest posterity by bombarding Rome. Other cities they

may treat thus, careless of destroying the innocent and helpless, the

babe and old grandsire who cannot war against them. But Rome, precious

inheritance of mankind,--will they run the risk of marring her shrined

treasures? Would they dare do it?

Two of the balls that struck St. Peter's have been sent to Pius IX. by

his children, who find themselves so much less "beloved" than were the

Austrians.

These two days, days of solemn festivity in the calends of the Church,

have been duly kept, and the population looks cheerful as it swarms

through the streets. The order of Rome, thronged as it is with troops,

is amazing. I go from one end to the other, and amid the poorest and

most barbarous of the population, (barbarously ignorant, I mean,)

alone and on foot. My friends send out their little children alone

with their nurses. The amount of crime is almost nothing to what it

was. The Roman, no longer pent in ignorance and crouching beneath

espionage, no longer stabs in the dark. His energies have true vent;

his better feelings are roused; he has thrown aside the stiletto. The

power here is indeed miraculous, since no doubt still lurk within the

walls many who are eager to incite brawls, if only to give an excuse

for slander.

To-day I suppose twelve thousand Austrians marched into Florence.

The Florentines have humbled and disgraced themselves in vain. They

recalled the Grand Duke to ward off the entrance of the Austrians, but

in vain went the deputation to Gaëta--in an American steamer! Leopold

was afraid to come till his dear cousins of Austria had put everything

in perfect order; then the Austrians entered to take Leghorn, but the

Florentines still kept on imploring them not to come there; Florence

was as subdued, as good as possible, already:--they have had the

answer they deserved. Now they crown their work by giving over

Guerazzi and Petracci to be tried by an Austrian court-martial. Truly

the cup of shame brims over.

I have been out on the balcony to look over the city. All sleeps with

that peculiar air of serene majesty known to this city only;--this

city that has grown, not out of the necessities of commerce nor the

luxuries of wealth, but first out of heroism, then out of faith.

Swelling domes, roofs softly tinted with yellow moss! what deep

meaning, what deep repose, in your faintly seen outline!

The young moon climbs among clouds,--the clouds of a departing

thunderstorm. Tender, smiling moon! can it be that thy full orb may

look down on a smoking, smouldering Rome, and see her best blood run

along the stones, without one nation in the world to defend, one to

aid,--scarce one to cry out a tardy "Shame"? We will wait, whisper the

nations, and see if they can bear it. Rack them well to see if they

are brave. _If they can do without us_, we will help them. Is it thus

ye would be served in your turn? Beware!

LETTER XXXI.

THE FRENCH TREASON AT ROME.--OUDINOT.--LESSEPS.--LETTER OF THE

TRIUMVIRATE.--REPLY OF LESSEPS.--COURSE OF OUDINOT.--THE WOUNDED

ITALIANS.--GARIBALDI.--ITALIAN YOUNG MEN.--MILITARY FUNERAL.--HAVOC OF

THE SIEGE.--COURAGE OF MAZZINI.--FALSENESS OF THE LONDON TIMES.

Rome, June 10, 1849.

What shall I write of Rome in these sad but glorious days? Plain facts

are the best; for my feelings I could not find fit words.

When I last wrote, the French were playing the second act of their

farce.

In the first, the French government affected to consult the Assembly.

The Assembly, or a majority of the Assembly, affected to believe the

pretext it gave, and voted funds for twelve thousand men to go to

Civita Vecchia. Arriving there, Oudinot proclaimed that he had come

as a friend and brother. He was received as such. Immediately he took

possession of the town, disarmed the Roman troops, and published a

manifesto in direct opposition to his first declaration.

He sends to Rome that he is coming there as a friend; receives the

answer that he is not wanted and cannot be trusted. This answer he

chooses to consider as coming from a minority, and advances on Rome.

The pretended majority on which he counts never shows itself by

a single movement within the walls. He makes an assault, and is

defeated. On this subject his despatches to his government are full

of falsehoods that would disgrace the lowest pickpocket,--falsehoods

which it is impossible he should not know to be such.

The Assembly passed a vote of blame. M. Louis Bonaparte writes a

letter of compliment and assurance that this course of violence shall

be sustained. In conformity with this promise twelve thousand more

troops are sent. This time it is not thought necessary to consult the

Assembly. Let us view the

SECOND ACT.

Now appears in Rome M. Ferdinand Lesseps, Envoy, &c. of the French

government. He declares himself clothed with full powers to treat

with Rome. He cannot conceal his surprise at all he sees there, at

the ability with which preparations have been made for defence, at the

patriotic enthusiasm which pervades the population. Nevertheless, in

beginning his game of treaty-making, he is not ashamed to insist on

the French occupying the city. Again and again repulsed, he again and

again returns to the charge on this point. And here I shall translate

the letter addressed to him by the Triumvirate, both because of its

perfect candor of statement, and to give an idea of the sweet and

noble temper in which these treacherous aggressions have been met.

LETTER OF THE TRIUMVIRS TO MONSIEUR LESSEPS.

"May 25, 1849.

"We have had the honor, Monsieur, to furnish you, in our note of the

16th, with some information as to the unanimous consent which was

given to the formation of the government of the Roman Republic.

We to-day would speak to you of the actual question, such as it is

debated in fact, if not by right, between the French government and

ours. You will allow us to do it with the frankness demanded by the

urgency of the situation, as well as the sympathy which ought to

govern all relations between France and Italy. Our diplomacy is the

truth, and the character given to your mission is a guaranty that the

best possible interpretation will be given to what we shall say to

you.

"With your permission, we return for an instant to the cause of the

present situation of affairs.

"In consequence of conferences and arrangements which took place

without the government of the Roman Republic ever being called on

to take part, it was some time since decided by the Catholic

Powers,--1st. That a modification should take place in the government

and institutions of the Roman States; 2d. That this modification

should have for basis the return of Pius IX., not as Pope, for to that

no obstacle is interposed by us, but as temporal sovereign; 3d.

That if, to attain that aim, a continuous intervention was judged

necessary, that intervention should take place.

"We are willing to admit, that while for some of the contracting

governments the only motive was the hope of a general restoration and

absolute return to the treaties of 1815, the French government

was drawn into this agreement only in consequence of erroneous

information, tending systematically to depict the Roman States as

given up to anarchy and governed by terror exercised in the name of an

audacious minority. We know also, that, in the modification proposed,

the French government intended to represent an influence more or less

liberal, opposed to the absolutist programme of Austria and of

Naples. It does none the less remain true, that under the Apostolic or

constitutional form, with or without liberal guaranties to the Roman

people, the dominant thought in all the negotiations to which we

allude has been some sort of return toward the past, a compromise

between the Roman people and Pius IX. considered as temporal prince.

"We cannot dissemble to ourselves, Monsieur, that the French

expedition has been planned and executed under the inspiration of this

thought. Its object was, on one side, to throw the sword of France

into the balance of negotiations which were to be opened at Rome;

on the other, to guarantee the Roman people from the excess of

retrograde, but always on condition that it should submit to

constitutional monarchy in favor of the Holy Father. This is assured

to us partly from information which we believe we possess as to the

concert with Austria; from the proclamations of General Oudinot; from

the formal declarations made by successive envoys to the Triumvirate;

from the silence obstinately maintained whenever we have sought to

approach the political question and obtain a formal declaration of the

fact proved in our note of the 16th, that the institutions by

which the Roman people are governed at this time are the free and

spontaneous expression of the wish of the people inviolable when

legally ascertained. For the rest, the vote of the French Assembly

sustains implicitly the fact that we affirm.

"In such a situation, under the menace of an inadmissible compromise,

and of negotiations which the state of our people no way provoked, our

part, Monsieur, could not be doubtful. To resist,--we owed this to

our country, to France, to all Europe. We ought, in fulfilment of a

mandate loyally given, loyally accepted, maintain to our country the

inviolability, so far as that was possible to us, of its territory,

and of the institutions decreed by all the powers, by all the

elements, of the state. We ought to conquer the time needed for appeal

from France ill informed to France better informed, to save the sister

republic the disgrace and the remorse which must be hers if, rashly

led on by bad suggestions from without, she became, before she was

aware, accomplice in an act of violence to which we can find no

parallel without going back to the partition of Poland in 1772. We

owed it to Europe to maintain, as far as we could, the fundamental

principles of all international life, the independence of each people

in all that concerns its internal administration. We say it without

pride,--for if it is with enthusiasm that we resist the attempts of

the Neapolitan monarchy and of Austria, our eternal enemy, it is with

profound grief that we are ourselves constrained to contend with the

arms of France,--we believe in following this line of conduct we

have deserved well, not only of our country, but of all the people of

Europe, even of France herself.

"We come to the actual question. You know, Monsieur, the events which

have followed the French intervention. Our territory has been invaded

by the king of Naples.

"Four thousand Spaniards were to embark on the 17th for invasion of

this country. The Austrians, having surmounted the heroic resistance

of Bologna, have advanced into Romagna, and are now marching on

Ancona.

"We have beaten and driven out of our territory the forces of the king

of Naples. We believe we should do the same by the Austrian forces, if

the attitude of the French here did not fetter our action.

"We are sorry to say it, but France must be informed that the

expedition of Civita Vecchia, said to be planned for our protection,

costs us very dear. Of all the interventions with which it is hoped to

overwhelm us, that of the French has been the most perilous. Against

the soldiers of Austria and the king of Naples we can fight, for

God protects a good cause. But we _do not wish to fight_ against

the French. We are toward them in a state, not of war, but of simple

defence. But this position, the only one we wish to take wherever

we meet France, has for us all the inconveniences without any of the

favorable chances of war.

"The French expedition has, from the first, forced us to concentrate

our troops, thus leaving our frontier open to Austrian invasion, and

Bologna and the cities of Romagna unsustained. The Austrians have

profited by this. After eight days of heroic resistance by the

population, Bologna was forced to yield. We had bought in France arms

for our defence. Of these ten thousand muskets have been detained

between Marseilles and Civita Vecchia. These are in your hands. Thus

with a single blow you deprive us of ten thousand soldiers. In every

armed man is a soldier against the Austrians.

"Your forces are disposed around our walls as if for a siege. They

remain there without avowed aim or programme. They have forced us to

keep the city in a state of defence which weighs upon our finances.

They force us to keep here a body of troops who might be saving our

cities from the occupation and ravages of the Austrians. They hinder

our going from place to place, our provisioning the city, our sending

couriers. They keep minds in a state of excitement and distrust which

might, if our population were less good and devoted, lead to sinister

results. They do _not_ engender anarchy nor reaction, for both are

impossible at Rome; but they sow the seed of irritation against

France, and it is a misfortune for us who were accustomed to love and

hope in her.

"We are besieged, Monsieur, besieged by France, in the name of a

protective mission, while some leagues off the king of Naples, flying,

carries off our hostages, and the Austrian slays our brothers.

"You have presented propositions. Those propositions have been

declared inadmissible by the Assembly. To-day you add a fourth to

the three already rejected. This says that France will protect from

foreign invasion all that part of our territory that may be occupied

by her troops. You must yourself feel that this changes nothing in our

position.

"The parts of the territory occupied by your troops are in fact

protected; but if only for the present, to what are they reduced? and

if it is for the future, have we no other way to protect our territory

than by giving it up entirely to you?

"The real intent of your demands is not stated. It is the occupation

of Rome. This demand has constantly stood first in your list of

propositions. Now we have had the honor to say to you, Monsieur, that

is impossible. The people will never consent to it. If the occupation

of Rome has for its aim only to protect it, the people thank you,

but tell you at the same time, that, able to defend Rome by their

own forces, they would be dishonored even in your eyes by declaring

themselves insufficient, and needing the aid of some regiments of

French soldiers. If the occupation has otherwise a political object,

which God forbid, the people, who have given themselves freely

these institutions, cannot suffer it. Rome is their capital, their

palladium, their sacred city. They know very well, that, apart from

their principles, apart from their honor, there is civil war at the

end of such an occupation. They are filled with distrust by your

persistence. They foresee, the troops being once admitted, changes in

men and in actions which would be fatal to their liberty. They know

that, in presence of foreign bayonets, the independence of their

Assembly, of their government, would be a vain word. They have always

Civita Vecchia before their eyes.

"On this point be sure their will is irrevocable. They will be

massacred from barricade to barricade, before they will surrender.

Can the soldiers of France wish to massacre a brother people whom they

came to protect, because they do not wish to surrender to them their

capital?

"There are for France only three parts to take in the Roman States.

She ought to declare herself for us, against us, or neutral. To

declare herself for us would be to recognize our republic, and fight

side by side with us against the Austrians. To declare against us is

to crush without motive the liberty, the national life, of a friendly

people, and fight side by side with the Austrians. France _cannot_ do

that. She _will not_ risk a European war to depress us, her ally. Let

her, then, rest neutral in this conflict between us and our enemies.

Only yesterday we hoped more from her, but to-day we demand but this.

"The occupation of Civita Vecchia is a fact accomplished; let it go.

France thinks that, in the present state of things, she ought not to

remain distant from the field of battle. She thinks that, vanquishers

or vanquished, we may have need of her moderative action and of her

protection. We do not think so; but we will not react against her. Let

her keep Civita Vecchia. Let her even extend her encampments, if the

numbers of her troops require it, in the healthy regions of Civita

Vecchia and Viterbo. Let her then wait the issue of the combats about

to take place. All facilities will be offered her, every proof of

frank and cordial sympathy given; her officers can visit Rome, her

soldiers have all the solace possible. But let her neutrality be

sincere and without concealed plans. Let her declare herself in

explicit terms. Let her leave us free to use all our forces. Let her

restore our arms. Let her not by her cruisers drive back from our

ports the men who come to our aid from other parts of Italy. Let

her, above all, withdraw from before our walls, and cause even the

appearance of hostility to cease between two nations who, later,

undoubtedly are destined to unite in the same international faith, as

now they have adopted the same form of government."

In his answer, Lesseps appears moved by this statement, and

particularly expresses himself thus:--

"One point appears above all to occupy you; it is the thought that

we wish forcibly to impose upon you the obligation of receiving us as

friends. _Friendship and violence are incompatible._ Thus it would

be _inconsistent_ on our part to begin by firing our cannon upon you,

since we are your natural protectors. _Such a contradiction enters

neither into my intentions, nor those of the government of the French

republic, nor of our army and its honorable chief._"

These words were written at the head-quarters of Oudinot, and

of course seen and approved by him. At the same time, in private

conversation, "the honorable chief" could swear he would occupy Rome

by "one means or another." A few days after, Lesseps consented to

conditions such as the Romans would tolerate. He no longer insisted on

occupying Rome, but would content himself with good positions in the

country. Oudinot protested that the Plenipotentiary had "exceeded his

powers,"--that he should not obey,--that the armistice was at an end,

and he should attack Rome on Monday. It was then Friday. He proposed

to leave these two days for the few foreigners that remained to

get out of town. M. Lesseps went off to Paris, in great seeming

indignation, to get _his_ treaty ratified. Of course we could not

hear from him for eight or ten days. Meanwhile, the _honorable_ chief,

alike in all his conduct, attacked on Sunday instead of Monday. The

attack began before sunrise, and lasted all day. I saw it from my

window, which, though distant, commands the gate of St. Pancrazio. Why

the whole force was bent on that part, I do not know. If they could

take it, the town would be cannonaded, and the barricades useless; but

it is the same with the Pincian Gate. Small-parties made feints in two

other directions, but they were at once repelled. The French fought

with great bravery, and this time it is said with beautiful skill and

order, sheltering themselves in their advance by movable barricades.

The Italians fought like lions, and no inch of ground was gained by

the assailants. The loss of the French is said to be very great: it

could not be otherwise. Six or seven hundred Italians are dead or

wounded. Among them are many officers, those of Garibaldi especially,

who are much exposed by their daring bravery, and whose red tunic

makes them the natural mark of the enemy. It seems to me great folly

to wear such a dress amid the dark uniforms; but Garibaldi has always

done it. He has now been wounded twice here and seventeen times in

Ancona.

All this week I have been much at the hospitals where are these noble

sufferers. They are full of enthusiasm; this time was no treason, no

Vicenza, no Novara, no Milan. They had not been given up by wicked

chiefs at the moment they were shedding their blood, and they had

conquered. All were only anxious to get out again and be at their

posts. They seemed to feel that those who died so gloriously were

fortunate; perhaps they were, for if Rome is obliged to yield,--and

how can she stand always unaided against the four powers?--where shall

these noble youths fly? They are the flower of the Italian youth;

especially among the Lombards are some of the finest young men I have

ever seen. If Rome falls, if Venice falls, there is no spot of Italian

earth where they can abide more, and certainly no Italian will wish

to take refuge in France. Truly you said, M. Lesseps, "Violence and

friendship are incompatible."

A military funeral of the officer Ramerino was sadly picturesque and

affecting. The white-robed priests went before the body singing, while

his brothers in arms bore the lighted tapers. His horse followed,

saddled and bridled. The horse hung his head and stepped dejectedly;

he felt there was something strange and gloomy going on,--felt that

his master was laid low. Ramerino left a wife and children. A great

proportion of those who run those risks are, happily, alone. Parents

weep, but will not suffer long; their grief is not like that of widows

and children.

Since the 3d we have only cannonade and skirmishes. The French are at

their trenches, but cannot advance much; they are too much molested

from the walls. The Romans have made one very successful sortie. The

French availed themselves of a violent thunderstorm, when the

walls were left more thinly guarded, to try to scale them, but were

immediately driven back. It was thought by many that they never would

be willing to throw bombs and shells into Rome, but they do whenever

they can. That generous hope and faith in them as republicans and

brothers, which put the best construction on their actions, and

believed in their truth as far as possible, is now destroyed. The

government is false, and the people do not resist; the general is

false, and the soldiers obey.

Meanwhile, frightful sacrifices are being made by Rome. All her

glorious oaks, all her gardens of delight, her casinos, full of the

monuments of genius and taste, are perishing in the defence. The

houses, the trees which had been spared at the gate of St. Pancrazio,

all afforded shelter to the foe, and caused so much loss of life,

that the Romans have now fully acquiesced in destruction agonizing to

witness. Villa Borghese is finally laid waste, the villa of Raphael

has perished, the trees are all cut down at Villa Albani, and the

house, that most beautiful ornament of Rome, must, I suppose, go too.

The stately marble forms are already driven from their place in that

portico where Winckelmann sat and talked with such delight. Villa

Salvage is burnt, with all its fine frescos, and that bank of the

Tiber shorn of its lovely plantations.

Rome will never recover the cruel ravage of these days, perhaps

only just begun. I had often thought of living a few months near St.

Peter's, that I might go as much as I liked to the church and the

museum, have Villa Pamfili and Monte Mario within the compass of

a walk. It is not easy to find lodgings there, as it is a quarter

foreigners never inhabit; but, walking about to see what pleasant

places there were, I had fixed my eye on a clean, simple house near

Ponte St. Angelo. It bore on a tablet that it was the property of

Angela ----; its little balconies with their old wooden rails, full

of flowers in humble earthen vases, the many bird-cages, the air of

domestic quiet and comfort, marked it as the home of some vestal or

widow, some lone woman whose heart was centred in the ordinary and

simplest pleasures of a home. I saw also she was one having the most

limited income, and I thought, "She will not refuse to let me a room

for a few months, as I shall be as quiet as herself, and sympathize

about the flowers and birds." Now the Villa Pamfili is all laid waste.

The French encamp on Monte Mario; what they have done there is not

known yet. The cannonade reverberates all day under the dome of St.

Peter's, and the house of poor Angela is levelled with the ground. I

hope her birds and the white peacocks of the Vatican gardens are in

safety;--but who cares for gentle, harmless creatures now?

I have been often interrupted while writing this letter, and suppose

it is confused as well as incomplete. I hope my next may tell of

something decisive one way or the other. News is not yet come from

Lesseps, but the conduct of Oudinot and the formation of the new

French ministry give reason to hope no good. Many seem resolved to

force back Pius IX. among his bleeding flock, into the city ruined

by him, where he cannot remain, and if he come, all this struggle and

sorrow is to be borne over again. Mazzini stands firm as a rock. I

know not whether he hopes for a successful issue, but he _believes_ in

a God bound to protect men who do what they deem their duty. Yet how

long, O Lord, shall the few trample on the many?

I am surprised to see the air of perfect good faith with which

articles from the London Times, upon the revolutionary movements,

are copied into our papers. There exists not in Europe a paper more

violently opposed to the cause of freedom than the Times, and neither

its leaders nor its foreign correspondence are to be depended upon.

It is said to receive money from Austria. I know not whether this

be true, or whether it be merely subservient to the aristocratical

feeling of England, which is far more opposed to republican movements

than is that of Russia; for in England fear embitters hate. It is

droll to remember our reading in the class-book.

"Ay, down to the dust with them, slaves as they are";--

to think how bitter the English were on the Italians who succumbed,

and see how they hate those who resist. And their cowardice here in

Italy is ludicrous. It is they who run away at the least intimation

of danger,--it is they who invent all the "fe, fo, fum" stories about

Italy,--it is they who write to the Times and elsewhere that they dare

not for their lives stay in Rome, where I, a woman, walk everywhere

alone, and all the little children do the same, with their nurses.

More of this anon.

LETTER XXXII.

PROGRESS OF THE TRAGEDY.--PIUS IX. DISAVOWS LIBERALISM.--OUDINOT,

AND THE ROMAN AUTHORITIES.--SHAME OF FRANCE.--DEVASTATION OF

THE CITY.--COURAGE OF THE PEOPLE.--BOMBS EXTINGUISHED.--A CRISIS

APPROACHING.

Rome, June 21, 1849.

It is now two weeks since the first attack of Oudinot, and as yet we

hear nothing decisive from Paris. I know not yet what news may have

come last night, but by the morning's mail we did not even receive

notice that Lesseps had arrived in Paris.

Whether Lesseps was consciously the servant of all these base

intrigues, time will show. His conduct was boyish and foolish, if it

was not treacherous. The only object seemed to be to create panic, to

agitate, to take possession of Rome somehow, though what to do with

it, if they could get it, the French government would hardly know.

Pius IX., in his allocution of the 29th of April last, has explained

himself fully. He has disavowed every liberal act which ever seemed

to emanate from him, with the exception of the amnesty. He has

shamelessly recalled his refusal to let Austrian blood be shed, while

Roman flows daily at his request. He has implicitly declared that his

future government, could he return, would be absolute despotism,--has

dispelled the last lingering illusion of those still anxious to

apologize for him as only a prisoner now in the hands of the Cardinals

and the king of Naples. The last frail link is broken that bound to

him the people of Rome, and could the French restore him, they must

frankly avow themselves, abandon entirely and fully the position they

took in February, 1848, and declare themselves the allies of Austria

and of Russia.

Meanwhile they persevere in the Jesuitical policy that has already

disgraced and is to ruin them. After a week of vain assaults, Oudinot

sent to Rome the following letter, which I translate, as well as the

answers it elicited.

LETTER OF GENERAL OUDINOT,

_Intended for the Roman Constituent Assembly, the Triumvirate, the

Generalissimo, and the Commander-in-Chief of the National Guard._

"General,--The events of war have, as you know, conducted the French

army to the gates of Rome.

"Should the entrance into the city remain closed against us, I should

see myself constrained to employ immediately all the means of action

that France has placed in my hands.

"Before having recourse to such terrible necessity, I think it my

duty to make a last appeal to a people who cannot have toward France

sentiments of hostility.

"The Roman army wishes, no doubt, equally with myself, to spare bloody

ruin to the capital of the Christian world.

"With this conviction, I pray you, Signore General, to give the

enclosed proclamation the most speedy publicity. If, twelve hours

after this despatch shall have been delivered to you, an answer

corresponding to the honor and the intentions of France shall not have

reached me, I shall be constrained to give the forcible attack.

"Accept, &c.

"Villa Pamfili, 12 June, 1849, 5 P.M."

He was in fact at Villa Santucci, much farther out, but could not be

content without falsifying his date as well as all his statements.

"PROCLAMATION.

"Inhabitants of Rome,--We did not come to bring you war. We came

to sustain among you order, with liberty. The intentions of our

government have been misunderstood. The labors of the siege

have conducted us under your walls. Till now we have wished only

occasionally to answer the fire of your batteries. We approach these

last moments, when the necessities of war burst out in terrible

calamities. Spare them to a city fall of so many glorious memories.

"If you persist in repelling us, on you alone will fall the

responsibility of irreparable disasters."

The following are the answers of the various functionaries to whom

this letter was sent:--

ANSWER OF THE ASSEMBLY.

"General,--The Roman Constitutional Assembly informs you, in reply to

your despatch of yesterday, that, having concluded a convention from

the 31st of May, 1849, with M. de Lesseps, Minister Plenipotentiary of

the French Republic, a convention which we confirmed soon after your

protest, it must consider that convention obligatory for both parties,

and indeed a safeguard of the rights of nations, until it has been

ratified or declined by the government of France. Therefore the

Assembly must regard as a violation of that convention every hostile

act of the French army since the above-named 31st of May, and all

others that shall take place before the resolution of your government

can be made known, and before the expiration of the time agreed upon

for the armistice. You demand, General, an answer correspondent to the

intentions and power of France. Nothing could be more conformable with

the intentions and power of France than to cease a flagrant violation

of the rights of nations.

"Whatever may be the results of such violation, the people of Rome are

not responsible for them. Rome is strong in its right, and decided

to maintain tire conventions which attach it to your nation; only it

finds itself constrained by the necessity of self-defence to repel

unjust aggressions.

"Accept, &c., for the Assembly,

"The President, GALLETTI.

"Secretaries, FABRETTI, PANNACCHI, COCCHI."

"ANSWER OF THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE NATIONAL GUARD.

"General,--The treaty, of which we await the ratification, assures

this tranquil city from every disaster.

"The National Guard, destined to maintain order, has the duty of

seconding the resolutions of the government; willingly and zealously

it fulfils this duty, not caring for annoyance and fatigue.

"The National Guard showed very lately, when it escorted the prisoners

sent back to you, its sympathy for France, but it shows also on every

occasion a supreme regard for its own dignity, for the honor of Rome.

"Any misfortune to the capital of the Catholic world, to the

monumental city, must be attributed not to the pacific citizens

constrained to defend themselves, but solely to its aggressors.

"Accept, &c.

"STURBINETTI,

_General of the National Guard, Representative of the People_".

ANSWER OF THE GENERALISSIMO.

"Citizen General,--A fatality leads to conflict between the armies

of two republics, whom a better destiny would have invited to combat

against their common enemy; for the enemies of the one cannot fail to

be also enemies of the other.

"We are not deceived, and shall combat by every means in our power

whoever assails our institutions, for only the brave are worthy to

stand before the French soldiers.

"Reflecting that there is a state of life worse than death, if the war

you wage should put us in that state, it will be better to close our

eyes for ever than to see the interminable oppressions of oar country.

"I wish you well, and desire fraternity.

"ROSSELLI."

ANSWER OF THE TRIUMVIRATE.

"We have the honor to transmit to you the answer of the Assembly.

"We never break our promises. We have promised to defend, in execution

of orders from the Assembly and people of Rome, the banner of the

Republic, the honor of the country, and the sanctity of the capital of

the Christian world; this promise we shall maintain.

"Accept, &c.

"The Triumvirs,

ARMELLINI.

MAZZINI.

SAFFI."

Observe the miserable evasion of this missive of Oudinot: "The fortune

of war has conducted us." What war? He pretended to come as a friend,

a protector; is enraged only because, after his deceits at Civita

Vecchia, Rome will not trust him within her walls. For this he daily

sacrifices hundreds of lives. "The Roman people cannot be hostile to

the French?" No, indeed; they were not disposed to be so. They had

been stirred to emulation by the example of France. They had warmly

hoped in her as their true ally. It required all that Oudinot has done

to turn their faith to contempt and aversion.

Cowardly man! He knows now that he comes upon a city which wished to

receive him only as a friend, and he cries, "With my cannon, with my

bombs, I will compel you to let me betray you."

The conduct of France--infamous enough before--looks tenfold blacker

now that, while the so-called Plenipotentiary is absent with the

treaty to be ratified, her army daily assails Rome,--assails in vain.

After receiving these answers to his letter and proclamation, Oudinot

turned all the force of his cannonade to make a breach, and

began, what no one, even in these days, has believed possible, the

bombardment of Rome.

Yes! the French, who pretend to be the advanced guard of civilization,

are bombarding Rome. They dare take the risk of destroying the richest

bequests made to man by the great Past. Nay, they seem to do it in an

especially barbarous manner. It was thought they would avoid, as much

as possible, the hospitals for the wounded, marked to their view

by the black banner, and the places where are the most precious

monuments; but several bombs have fallen on the chief hospital, and

the Capitol evidently is especially aimed at. They made a breach in

the wall, but it was immediately filled up with a barricade, and all

the week they have been repulsed in every attempt they made to gain

ground, though with considerable loss of life on our side; on theirs

it must be great, but how great we cannot know.

Ponte Molle, the scene of Raphael's fresco of a battle, in the

Vatican, saw again a fierce struggle last Friday. More than fifty were

brought wounded into Rome.

But wounds and assaults only fire more and more the courage of her

defenders. They feel the justice of their cause, and the peculiar

iniquity of this aggression. In proportion as there seems little aid

to be hoped from man, they seem to claim it from God. The noblest

sentiments are heard from every lip, and, thus far, their acts amply

correspond.

On the eve of the bombardment one or two officers went round with

a fine band. It played on the piazzas the Marseillaise and Roman

marches; and when the people were thus assembled, they were told

of the proclamation, and asked how they felt. Many shouted loudly,

_Guerra! Viva la Republica Romana!_ Afterward, bands of young men went

round singing the chorus,

"Vogliamo sempre quella,

Vogliamo Liberta."

("We want always one thing; we want liberty.") Guitars played, and

some danced. When the bombs began to come, one of the Trasteverini,

those noble images of the old Roman race, redeemed her claim to that

descent by seizing a bomb and extinguishing the match. She received a

medal and a reward in money. A soldier did the same thing at Palazza

Spada, where is the statue of Pompey, at whose base great Cæsar fell.

He was promoted. Immediately the people were seized with emulation;

armed with pans of wet clay, they ran wherever the bombs fell, to

extinguish them. Women collect the balls from the hostile cannon, and

carry them to ours. As thus very little injury has been done to life,

the people cry, "Madonna protects us against the bombs; she wills not

that Rome should be destroyed."