ROME, ITALY, _April 20, 1854_.
Once again in this old city, the mistress of the arts, and at the close
of Passion Week with its gorgeous functions and church ceremonies
renowned throughout the world. On two former visits, one under Pope
Gregory XVI., the other under the present Pope Pius IX., I attempted
to describe the magnificence and splendor exhibited on these annual
festivals. It would require volumes to speak of modern, aside from
ancient Rome, with its one hundred and fifty thousand population, now
largely augmented by foreigners from every clime; its three hundred
churches, rich in sculpture, paintings, and frescoes; its three
hundred and thirty-five palaces, and thirty villas; its five hundred
streets and two hundred and seventy-three lanes; its one hundred and
forty-eight public piazzas or squares; its aqueducts, bridges, and
twelve Egyptian obelisks, aside from its fifty public fountains, more
bountifully supplied with water than perhaps any city in the world.
As to antiquities--they abound on all sides, an evidence of what Rome
was in her glory, an inheritance of which she cannot be deprived,
and in which now consists her chief resource. Being destitute of
commerce, without the annual concourse of strangers to the seat of
the Catholic church, the modern city would dwindle down to a village.
I find since my last visit that the hotels have increased in number
and size, and that the shops for the manufacture and sale of mosaics,
cameos, and other objects of art, have been enlarged and beautified.
Gas has been recently introduced to a limited extent, and telegraph
communication extended to Florence north, and Naples south; but here
public or government enterprise ceases. The railroad system was vetoed,
the Pope’s advisers deciding against it. Beggars are as abundant as
ever, and in the country pauperism is fearful. The short crops of the
past year, and the over taxation of the badly administered Italian
governments, drive many to mendicity from necessity. One requires
leather pockets to carry copper coin in to supply the tribe, for no
sooner is one hungry swarm satisfied than another as hungry arrives.
This is the most disagreeable feature of Italian travel.
I came down from Sienna by post, a distance of some one hundred and
twenty miles. And here, to draw a comparison in favor of our own happy
country, abounding with plenty for which we cannot be sufficiently
thankful, I must cite the fact that in some of the mountain villages
the number of beggars was so great that the conducteur, to my horror,
provided himself with a dog-whip to resist their importunities. The
paper currency of the country is at a discount of seven per cent. Since
the Republic an issue of a million of dollars has been made in copper
coin, like large medals, of five Baiocchi, equivalent to five cents
each, which in the scarcity of gold and silver enters into general
circulation. We required a large sack to pay postillions. Everything
is quiet here under the protection of some seven thousand troops, who
may be seen daily on parade, and standing guard throughout the city;
they are very civil and under good discipline. The weather has been
delightful during Holy Week; the city thronged with strangers, every
means of conveyance in requisition, the almost daily visits to St.
Peter’s and the Vatican, with the other sights of the city, gave much
animation. The heavy carriages of the cardinals, with wheels and
bodies of gold and silver gilt, the famous black horses with massive
gold plated harness, with two coachmen and three footmen in richly
embroidered livery, added greatly to the scene. On Palm Sunday took
place the presentation to the Pope of the cardinals in full regalia,
bishops, priests, the noble guard, princes and foreign ministers in
full costume, and the kissing of his Holiness’s slipper; then came the
blessing singly of palm leaves tastefully wreathed and braided, of
which some three hundred were provided for the officers and soldiers
of the army who had made special application for them. The rush of
thousands to witness the ceremonies of washing the feet of twelve
pilgrims by the Pope in person, in St. Peter’s; their banqueting at a
well furnished table in commemoration of the Last Supper; the services
in the Sistine Chapel, the beautiful music of the Miserere, and the
Lamentations of Jeremiah; the exhibition of the Holy Relics; the nails
which it is said fastened our Saviour to the cross, some of the wood of
which is shown; the handkerchief, inclosed in crystal, with which Santa
Veronica wiped the face of Christ; the baptism with oil and water of a
converted Jew and a negro girl at the Baptistry of Constantine, and the
ceremonies of confirmation at the Basilica of San Giovanni de Laterano;
all were calculated to keep up the excitement of strangers, and employ
them fully during the Holy Week.
Having witnessed these ceremonies for the third time here, as also on
a similar occasion at Jerusalem, with all the rites of the Greek and
Latin Catholics, Armenians, and Copts, not omitting the extravagant
exercises of Spain, Peru, and the island of Cuba, the scenes have
become so familiar that I cannot describe to you the gorgeous display
under the same impressions as formerly. Still it must be admitted that
high mass on Sunday, at the close of the week, the Pope officiating in
person in the vast edifice of St. Peter’s, in full pontifical robes
and jewelled mitre, surrounded by thirty or forty cardinals, with a
host of bishops and other members of the clergy, in their rich attire;
the temporary loges festooned with red damask drapery fringed with
gold, and occupied by the Princes of Prussia, Saxony, and France, in
uniform; the Swiss Guards, with helmets and coats of mail; hundreds of
the fair sex in black church dresses; hundreds of soldiers with fixed
bayonets, and again other thousands of the masculine race in dress
coats and white kid gloves--the whole together presents perhaps the
most dazzling group of court, religious, and the military display in
the world. At the close of high mass the Pope, in his pontifical chair,
supported upon the shoulders of twelve bearers in red silk costume,
with a brilliant cortege, is carried to the balcony of St. Peter’s in
the presence of the expectant multitude of some fifty thousand persons,
composed in part of cavalry and infantry. The vast square as I saw it
from the top of the colonnade was one dense mass of humanity; heads
were uncovered during the brief service, then the whole multitude at a
given signal fell upon their knees, and the benediction was pronounced.
The bells of all Rome send forth their merry peals, the thundering
cannon of St. Angelo roar along the Tiber, and the crowd disperse. The
evening illumination of the cathedral St. Peter’s with its immense
façade of colonnades, and three domes brilliantly lighted as if by
magic, with eight thousand lamps, closed the ceremonies and sights of
the week. The exhibition of fireworks took place the next evening, with
fine effect, at the Porto del Popolo, one of the gates of the city.
The former Girandolo from the Castle of San Angelo, representing the
eruption of Mount Vesuvius, when the waters of the Tiber seemed in
flames, was a magnificent spectacle.
I have never seen so many strangers in Rome as during the past Holy
Week. My last visit was during the European revolution of 1848, which
prevented general travel; we have visitors now, however, from all
countries, though fewer Russians than usual. The Coliseum has become a
great resort by moonlight; groups of ladies and gentlemen may be seen
climbing its old and antiquated walls, or wending their way through
its melancholy corridors by torchlight, which has a happy effect,
bringing out their beauties more boldly, and hiding the deformities
and decay visible by daylight. While standing upon the heights of this
vast ruin, whose broken walls have contributed to the erection of
many of the palaces of Rome, and reflecting that sufficient material
remains for the construction of a small town, one cannot but be struck
with the grandeur and power of the former in comparison with the
present fallen race. While figuring to myself the grand and imposing
spectacle of the mammoth amphitheatre, under the patronage of the Roman
emperors, filled with the élite of the city, during the gladiatorial
contests, and the combats of the wild beasts, rushing out from their
dens in the vast arena, I could find no better comparison in miniature
for the enthusiasm of the multitude in the well filled galleries,
than that which is shown at the barbarous bull fights of Spain and
Peru; the ancients, however, carried off the palm for brutality by
throwing the innocent Christians among the wild beasts. The stranger in
Rome, however fastidious, may have his taste gratified, and his time
constantly occupied here, after repeated visits; his labors for the
first trip may be pleasant to the mind and refreshing to the eye, but
they are arduous.
The long picture galleries and avenues of statuary of the palaces,
the suburban drives to the various villas, as well as the villages
Frascati, Albano, and the falls of Tivoli, with the picturesque costume
of the peasants, all afford variety.
The antiquarian strolls among the triumphal arches of the Roman
emperors, the broken columns of the Forum, or wanders among the ruins
of the palaces of Nero and Cæsar, and the baths of Caracalla. When
the eye tires with the sight of marbles, bronzes, or the interior
decorations of churches, which are perfect museums of fine arts, by
the old masters, one can mount the dome of Peter’s, or the Campidolio
tower, and grasp the seven hills of ancient and modern Rome, with all
their beauties and all their deformities, not forgetting one pretty
spot which it is profitable to visit, and where, under the shady
willows and rosebuds of the Strangers’ Cemetery, he can read the
epitaphs of his friends or countrymen whose career is ended.