OLD ROME AND NEW ROME.--RUINS AND RESURRECTION.
ROME, October 8th.
At last we are in Rome! We reached here a week ago, on what was to me
a very sad anniversary, as on the first of October of last year I came
from the country, bringing one who was never to return. Now, as then,
the day was sadly beautiful--rich with the hues of autumn, when nature
is gently dying, a day suited to quiet thoughts and tender memories.
It was late in the afternoon when we found ourselves racing along the
banks of the Tiber--"the yellow Tiber" it was indeed, as its waters
were turbid enough--and just as the sun was setting we shot across the
Campagna, and when the lamps were lighted were rattling through the
streets of the Eternal City.
To a stranger coming here there is a double interest; for there are
two cities to be studied--old Rome and new Rome--the Rome of Julius
Caesar, and the Rome of Pius IX. and Victor Emmanuel. In point of
historical interest there is no comparison, as the glory of the
ancient far surpasses that of the modern city. And it is the former
which first engages our attention.
How strange it seemed to awake in the morning and feel that we were
really in the city that once ruled the world! Yes, we are on the very
spot. Around us are the Seven Hills. We go to the top of the Capitol
and count them all. We look down to the river bank where Romulus and
Remus were cast ashore, like Moses in the bulrushes, left to die, and
where, according to the old legend, they were suckled by a wolf; and
where Romulus, when grown to man's estate, began to build a city.
Antiquarians still trace the line of his ancient wall. On the Capitol
Hill is the Tarpeian Rock, from which traitors were hurled. And under
the hill, buried in the earth, one still sees the massive arch of the
Cloaca Maxima, the great sewer, built by the Tarquins, through which
all the waste of Rome has flowed into the Tiber for twenty-five
hundred years; and there are the pillars of the ancient bridge--so
they tell us--held by a hero who must have been a Hercules, of whom
and his deed Macaulay writes in his "Lays of Ancient Rome" how, long
after, in the traditions of the people,
"Still was the story told,
How well Horatius kept the bridge,
In the brave days of old."
Looking around the horizon every summit recalls historical memories.
There are the Sabine Hills, where lived the tribe from which the early
Romans (who were at first, like some of our border settlements, wholly
a community of men,) helped themselves to wives. Yonder, to the south,
are the Alban Hills; and there, in what seems the hollow of a
mountain, Hannibal encamped with his army, looking down upon Rome. In
the same direction lies the Appian Way, lined for miles with tombs of
the illustrious dead. Along that way often came the legions returning
from distant conquests, "bringing many captives home to Rome," with
camels and elephants bearing the spoils of Africa and the East.
These recollections increase in interest as we come down to the time
of the Caesars. This is the culminating point of Roman history, as then
the empire reached its highest point of power and glory. Julius Caesar
is the greatest character of ancient Rome, as soldier and ruler, the
leader of armies, and the man whose very presence awed the Roman
Senate. Such was the magic of his name that it was said peculiar
omens and portents accompanied his death. As Shakespeare has it:
"In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mighty Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets."
It was therefore with an interest that no other name could inspire,
that we saw in the Capitol a statue, which is said to be the most
faithful existing representation of that imperial man; and in the
Strada Palace the statue of Pompey, which is believed to be the very
one at the base of which "great Caesar fell."[6]
With Caesar ended the ancient Republic, and began the Empire. It was
then that Rome attained her widest dominion, and the city its greatest
splendor. She was the mistress of the whole world, from Egypt to
Britain, ruling on all sides of the Mediterranean, along the shores of
Europe, Asia, and Africa. And then the whole earth contributed to the
magnificence of the Eternal City. It was the boast of Augustus, that
"he found Rome of brick, and left it of marble." Under him and his
successors were reared those palaces and temples, the very ruins of
which are still the wonder and admiration of the world.
The knowledge of these ruins has been greatly increased by recent
excavations. Till within a few years Rome was a buried city, almost as
much as Pompeii. The debris of centuries had filled up her streets and
squares, till the earth lay more than twenty feet deep in the Forum,
choking up temples and triumphal arches; and even the lower part of
the Coliseum had been submerged in the general wreck and ruin. In
every part of the city could be seen the upper portions of buildings,
the frieze on the capitals of columns, that were half under ground,
and that, like Milton's lion, seemed pawing to be free.
But the work of clearing away this rubbish was so vast that it had
been neglected from century to century. But during the occupation by
the French troops, that Government expended large sums in uncovering
these ruins, and the work has since been continued by Victor Emmanuel,
until now, as the result of twenty years continuous labor, a buried
city has been brought to light. The Forum has been cleared away, so
that we may walk on its pavement, amid its broken columns, and see the
very tribune from which Cicero addressed the Roman people. But beside
this Central Forum, there were half a dozen others--such as the Forum
of Julius Caesar, and of Augustus, and of Nerva, and of Trajan, where
still stands that marvellous Column in bronze (covered with figures in
bas-relief, to represent the conquest of the Dacians), which has been
copied in the Column of the Place Vendome in Paris. All of these
Forums were parts of one whole. What is now covered by streets and
houses, was an open space, extending from the Capitol as far as the
Coliseum in one direction, and the Column of Trajan in another,
surrounded by temples and basilicas, and columns and triumphal arches,
and overlooked by the palaces of the Caesars. This whole area was the
centre of Rome, where its heart beat, when it contained two millions
of people; where the people came together to discuss public affairs,
or to witness triumphal processions returning from the wars. Here the
Roman legions came with mighty tread along the Via Sacra, winding
their way up to the Capitoline Hill to lay their trophies at the feet
of the Senate.
Perhaps the best idea of the splendor and magnificence of ancient Rome
may be gained from exploring the ruins of the palaces of the Caesars.
They are of vast extent, covering all the slopes of the Palatine Hill.
Here great excavations have been made. The walk seems endless through
what has been laid open. The walls are built like a fortress, as if
to last forever, and decorated with every resource of art known to
that age, with sculptures and ceilings richly painted, like those
uncovered in the houses of Pompeii. These buildings have been stripped
of everything that was movable--the statues being transported to the
galleries of the Vatican. The same fate has overtaken all the great
structures of ancient Rome. They have been divested of their ornaments
and decoration, of gilding and bas-reliefs and statues, and in some
cases have been quite dismantled. The Coliseum, it is well known, was
used in the Middle Ages as a quarry for many proud noble families, and
out of it were built some of the greatest palaces in Rome. Nothing
saved the Pantheon but its conversion from a heathen temple into a
Christian church. Hundreds and thousands of columns of porphyry and
alabaster and costly marbles, which now adorn the churches of Rome,
were taken from the ruins of temples and palaces.
But though thus stripped of every ornament, ancient Rome is still
magnificent in her ruins. One may wander for days about the palaces of
the Caesars, walking through the libraries and theatres, under the
arches and over the very tessellated pavement where those proud
emperors walked nearly two thousand years ago. He should ascend to the
highest point of the ruins to take in their full extent, and there he
will see, looking out upon the Campagna, a long line of arches
reaching many miles, over which water was brought from the distant
hills for the Golden House of Nero.
Perhaps the most massive ruin which has been lately uncovered, is that
of the Baths of Caracalla, which give an idea of the luxury and
splendor of ancient Rome, as quite unequalled in modern times.
But, of course, the one structure which interests most of all, is the
Coliseum: and here recent excavations have made fresh discoveries. The
whole area has been dug down many feet, and shows a vast system of
passages _underground_; not only those through which wild beasts were
let into the arena, but conduits for water, by which the whole
amphitheatre could be flooded and turned into a lake large enough for
Roman galleys to sail in; and here naval battles were fought with all
the fury of a conflict between actual enemies, to the delight of Roman
emperor and people, who shouted applause, when blood flowed freely on
the decks, and dyed the waters below.
There is one reflection that often recurs to me, as I wander among
these ruins--what it is of all the works of man that really _lives_.
Not architecture (the palaces of the Caesars are but heaps of ruins);
but the Roman _laws_ remain, incorporated with the legislation of
every civilized country on the globe; while Virgil and Cicero, the
poet and the orator, are the delight of all who know the Latin tongue.
Thus men pass away, their very monuments may perish, but their
thoughts, their wisdom, their learning and their genius remain, a
perpetual inheritance to mankind.
After Imperial Rome comes Christian Rome. Many of the stories of the
first Christian centuries are fables and legends. Historical truth is
so overlaid with a mass of traditions, that one is ready to reject the
whole. When they show you here the stone on which they gravely tell
you that Abraham bound Isaac for the sacrifice; and another on which
Mary sat when she brought Christ into the temple; and the staircase
from Pilate's house, the Scala Santa, up which every day and hour
pilgrims may be seen going on their knees; and a stone showing the
very prints of the Saviour's feet when he appeared to Peter--one is
apt to turn away in disgust. But the general fact of the early
planting of Christianity here, we know from the new Testament itself.
Ecclesiastical historians are not agreed whether Peter was ever in
Rome (although he is claimed as the first Pope), but that Paul was
here we know from his epistles, and from the Book of Acts, in which
we have the particulars of his "appealing to Caesar," and his voyages
to Italy, and his shipwreck on the island of Malta, his landing at
Puteoli, and going "towards Rome," where he lived two years in "his
own hired house," "preaching and teaching, no man forbidding him."
Several of his epistles were written from Rome. It is therefore quite
probable that he was confined, according to the tradition, in the
Mamertine Prison under the Capitol, and one cannot descend without
deep emotion into that dark, rocky dungeon, far underground, where the
Great Apostle was once a prisoner, and from which he was led forth to
die. He is said to have been beheaded without the walls. On the road
they point out a spot (still marked by a rude figure by the roadside
of two men embracing), where it is said Paul and Peter met and fell on
each other's neck on the morning of the last day--Paul going to be
beheaded, and Peter into the city to be crucified, which at his own
request was with his head downwards, for he would not be crucified in
the same posture as his Lord, whom he had once denied. On the spot
where Paul is said to have suffered now rises one of the grandest
churches in the world, second in Rome only to St. Peter's.
So the persecutions of the early Christians by successive emperors are
matters of authentic history. Knowing this, we visit as a sacred place
the scene of their martyrdom, and shudder at seeing on the walls the
different modes of torture by which it was sought to break their
allegiance to the faith; we think of them in the Coliseum, where they
were thrown to the lions; and still more in the Catacombs, to which
they fled for refuge, where they worshipped, and (as Pliny wrote)
"sang hymns to Christ as to a God," and where still rest their bones,
with many a rude inscription, testifying of their faith and hope.
It is a sad reflection that the Christian Church, once established in
Rome, should afterwards itself turn persecutor. But unfortunately it
too became intoxicated with power, and could brook no resistance to
its will. The Inquisition was for centuries a recognized institution
of the Papacy--an appointed means for guarding the purity of the
faith. The building devoted to the service of that tribunal stands to
this day, close by the Church of St. Peter, and I believe there is
still a Papal officer who bears the dread title of "Grand Inquisitor."
But fortunately his office no longer inspires terror, for it is at
last reduced to the punishment of ecclesiastical offences by
ecclesiastical discipline, instead of the arm of flesh, on which it
once leaned. But the old building is at once "a prison and a palace";
the cells are still there, though happily unoccupied. But in the
castle of St. Angelo there is a Chamber of Torture, which has not
always been merely for exhibition, where a Pope Clement (what a
mockery in the name!) had Beatrice Cenci put to the torture, and
forced to confess a crime of which she was not guilty. But we are not
so unjust as to impute all these cruelties of a former and a darker
time to the Catholic Church of the present day. Those were ages of
intolerance and of persecution. But none can deny that the Church has
always been fiercely intolerant. There is no doubt that the massacre
of St. Bartholomew was the occasion of great rejoicings at Rome. The
bloody persecution of the Waldenses found no rebuke from him who
claimed to be the vicegerent of Christ; a persecution which called
forth from Milton that sublime prayer:
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints,
Whose bones lie scattered upon the Alpine mountains cold!
Amid such bitter recollections it is good to remember also the message
of Cromwell to the Pope, that "if favor were not shown to the people
of God, the thunder of English cannon should be heard in the castle of
St. Angelo."
It seems as if it were a just retribution for those crimes of a former
age that the Pope in these last days has had to walk so long in the
Valley of Humiliation. Not for centuries has a Pontiff had to endure
such repeated blows. The reign of Pius IX. has been longer than that
of any of his predecessors; some may think it glorious, but it has
witnessed at once the most daring assumption and its signal
punishment--a claim of infallibility, which belongs to God
alone--followed by a bitter humiliation as if God would cast this idol
down to the ground. It is certainly a remarkable coincidence, that
just as the dogma of Infallibility was proclaimed, Louis Napoleon
rushed into war, as the result of which France, the chief supporter of
the Papacy (which for twenty years had kept an army in Rome to hold
the Pope on his throne), was stricken down, and the first place in
Europe taken by a Protestant power. Germany had already humbled the
other great Catholic power of Europe, to the confusion and dismay of
the Pope and his councillors. A gentleman who has resided for many
years in Rome, tells me that on the very day that the battle of Sadowa
was fought, Cardinal Antonelli told a friend of his to "come around to
his house that night to get the news; that he expected to hear of one
of the greatest victories ever won for the Church," so confidently did
he and his master the Pope anticipate the triumph of Austria. The
gentleman went. Hour after hour passed, and no tidings came. It was
midnight, and still no news of victory. Before morning the issue was
known, that the Austrian army was destroyed. Cardinal Antonelli did
not come forth to proclaim the tidings. He shut himself up, said my
informant, and was not seen for three weeks!
And so it has come to pass--whether by accident or design, whether by
the violence of man or by the will of God--that the Pope has been
gradually stripped of that power and prestige which once so acted upon
the imaginations of men, that, like Caesar, "his bend did awe the
world," and has come to be merely the bishop, or archbishop, of that
portion of Christendom which submits to the Catholic Church.
I find the Rome of to-day divided into two camps. The Vatican is set
over against the Quirinal. The Pope rules in one, and Victor Emmanuel
in the other; and neither of these two sovereigns has anything to do
with the other.
It would take long to discuss the present political state of Rome or
of Italy. Apart from the right or wrong of this question, it is
evident that the sympathies of the Italian people are on the side of
Victor Emmanuel. The Roman people have had a long experience of a
government of priests, and they do not like it. It seems as if the
world was entering on a new era, and the Papacy, infallible and
immutable as it is, must change too--it must "move on" or be
overwhelmed.
FOOTNOTE:
[6]
"E'en at the base of Pompey's statue,
Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell."