^ 9 ! 4 ^^m 1 r .i.i. i .ii i ih ' EiiiiiDininiiin rnTT^^T^''''''^'^'^^''' ]^!^^ |StorrU£riciM_Collep. Vol 3W- Class Jyo . . 'SI I Ob o ^ ^ 9^^ (Date.. J. ..i89.i> ! •iiiiiii'i' i'i'i'ii 71TI 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 LL'xLLU-'.tilU- V- BOOK 9 14.56.ST76 c. 1 STORY # ROBA Dl ROMA 3 T153 00EDfl2M7 T ROBA DI ROMA ^^^TrT"?:^^ ROBA DI ROMA. 1 BY WILLIAM W. STORY, SEVENTH EDITION. LONDON : CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 1876. "^fo Caxton Printing Works, Beccles. PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION. The present Edition has been carefully revised, and many additions have been made, which, it is hoped, will not be found to be without value and interest. As it is going through the press, Rome has become an integral portion of the Kingdom of Italy, and will, in all probability, undergo many and important changes. Among others, the censorship of the press will be abolished, and free admission given to literature of all kinds ; so that this book may now enter without that challenge which, on ac- count of some opinions herein expressed, it has hitherto met. It is a curious illustration of the previous condition of things in Rome, that, although the government formally authorized its admission, it was, during the last two years, persistently stopped at the custom-house, on the avowed ground that the miraculous Bambino of Ara Coeli was mentioned with disrespect in its pages. This objection, however, no longer will prevail, and any traveller may now freely carry it with him, without danger of its being confis- cated on the frontier. Further alterations it is not my purpose to make, if sub- vi PREFACE. sequent Editions should be required. Some of the national customs described in it are already beginning to disappear, and still more changes will probably occur under the new order of things. It is to be hoped, that with the entrance of liberty, the old picturesque customs and costumes that gave so peculiar a charm to Rome will not be driven out But the tendency of modern civilization is to the useful rather than to the picturesque ; and it is to be feared, that many years will not elapse before much that is described in these pages will have become purely historical. Let us pray, however, that Italy may not seek to make a Brum- magem Paris of this grand old city, and, under the pretence of improvement, obliterate the old landmarks of History, Poetry, and Romance. A word or two may be ventured here on a minor subject, yet not without its value. ■ Italy was once the arbiter of dress, and gave the law to the world. Milan and Mantua gave us our milliners and mantua-makers before the word and the law of " mode " were invented by the French. Nothing can exceed the beauty and picturesqueness of many of those old Italian costumes, which only slowly changed, and were not varied every month to suit the tasteless caprice of man or woman. The fidgety demon of change worshipped by modern society is Fashion ; and its chief temple is Paris. Is it impossible to pay reverence again to the ancient and severer divinity of Beauty } Italy at last belongs to herself. Let us see if she cannot be herself, and play no more the jackal to France, — be herself in those grand systems of jurisprudence which once she gave to us on land and on sea, — herself in commerce, industry, and arts, with which she once led the world, — PREFACE. vii herself in liberty and popular government, in which she once was foremost among nations, — and herself in the minor department of dress, so that her artists may no longer be ashamed to paint and to sculpture the great men of to-day ; nor blush as they see the portraits of her modern statesmen, poets, and heroes, standing in their ridiculous costumes beside the dignified figures painted by her great artists in the early days of her freedom and power. London, . November 2^th, 1870. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE ENTRANCE I CHAPTER n. STREET MUSIC IN ROME 8 CHAPTER HI. BEGGARS IN ROME , 39 CHAPTER IV. CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS .69 CHAPTER V. LENT . . .91 CHAPTER VL GAMES IN ROME . II7 CHAPTER VH. MAY IN ROME . 161 CHAPTER VHI. CAFFks AND THEATRES 200 CHAPTER IX. THE COLOSSEUM 23 1 CHAPTER X. MIMES, MASKS, AND PUPPETS 260 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XL PAGE PASQUIN .......... 283 CHAPTER Xn. VILLEGIATURA : HARVEST AND VINTAGE .... 302 CHAPTER XHL THE CAMPAGNA 328 CHAPTER XIV. MARKETS .......... 377 CHAPTER XV. THE GHETTO IN ROME ....... 395 CHAPTER XVI. FIELD SPORTS AND RACES ........ 445 CHAPTER XVII. FOUNTAINS AND AQUEDUCTS . . . . . . 464 CHAPTER XVIII. BIRTHS, BAPTISMS, MARRIAGES, AND BURIALS . . . 484 CHAPTER XIX. SUMMER IN THE CITY 524 CHAPTER XX. THE GOOD OLD TIMES ....... 538 CHAPTER XXI. POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME 558 APPENDIX 587 ROBA DI ROMA CHAPTER I. ENTRANCE. It was on the 6th of December, 1856, that I landed with my family at Civita Vecchia, on my return for the third time to Rome. Before we could make all our arrangements, it was too late to think of journeying that day towards the dear old city; but the following morning we set forth in a rumbling, yellow post-coach, with three horses, and a shabby, gaudy postilion, the wheels clat- tering, the bells on the horses' necks jingling, the cocks'-plumes on their heads nodding, and a half-dozen sturdy beggar-brats run- ning at our side and singing a dismal chorus of '-'Dated qualche cosaP Two or three half-baiocchi, however, bought them off, and we had the road to ourselves. The day was charming, the sky cloudless, the air tender and with that delicious odour of the South which so soothingly intoxicates the senses. The sea, accompanying us for half our way, gleamed and shook out its breaking surf along the shore ; and the rolling slopes of the Cam- pagna, flattered by sunlight, stretched all around us,' — here desert and sparkling with tall skeleton grasses and the dry canes' tufted feathers, and there covered with low, shrubby trees, that, crowding darkly together, climbed the higher hills. On tongues of land, jutting out into the sea, stood at intervals lonely watch-towers, gray with age, and at their feet shallow and impotent waves gnashed into foam around the black, jagged teeth of half-sunken B 2 ROB A DI ROMA. rocks along the shore. Here and there the broken arches of a Roman bridge, nearly buried in the lush growth of weeds, shrubs, and flowers, or the ruins of some old villa, the home of the owl, snake, and lizard, showed where Ancient Rome journeyed and lived. At intervals, heavy carts, drawn by the superb gray oxen of the Campagna, creaked slowly by, the contadino sitting athwart the tongue ; or some light wine carreita came ringing along, the driver fast asleep under its tall, triangular cover, with his fierce little dog beside him, and his horse adorned with bright rosettes and feathers. Sometimes long lines of mules or horses, tied one to another's -tail, plodded on in dusty procession, laden with sacks; — sometimes droves of oxen, or pokdri, conducted by a sturdy driver in heavy leathern leggings, and armed with a long, pointed pole, stopped our way for a moment. In the fields, the pecoraro, in shaggy sheepskin breeches, the very type of the mythic Pan, leaned against his staff, half-asleep, and tended his woolly flock, — or the contadino drove through dark furrows the old plough of Virgil's time, that figures in the vignettes to the " Georgics," dragged tediously along by four white oxen, yoked abreast. There, too, were herds of long-haired goats, rearing mid the bushes and showing their beards over them, or following the shepherd to their fold, as the shadows began to lengthen, — or rude and screaming wains, tugged by uncouth buffaloes, with low heads and knotted knees, bred among the malaria-stricken marshes. Half-way to Rome we changed horses at Palo, — a little grim settlement, composed of a post-house, inn, stables, a line of strag- gling fishermen's huts, and a desolate old fortress, flanked by four towers. This fortress, which once belonged to the Odescalchi family, but is now the property of the Roman Government, looks like the very spot for a tragedy, as it stands there rotting in the pestilential air, and garrisoned by a few stray old soldiers, whose dreary, broken-down appearance is quite in keeping with the place. Palo itself is the site of the city of Alsium, founded by the Pelasgi, in the dim gloom of antiquity, long before the Etrus- cans landed on this shore. It was subsequently occupied by the Etruscans, and afterwards became a favourite resort of the Roman nobility, who built there the splendid villas of Antoninus, Porcina, ENTRANCE TO ROME. 3 Pompeius, and others. Of the Pclasgic and P">truscan town not a vestige remains ; but the ruined foundations of Roman villas are still to be seen along the shore. No longer are to be found there the feasts described by P>onto,* of " fatted oysters, savoury apples, pastry, confectionery, and generous wines in faultless trans- parent goblets," — nor would it now be called *'a voluptuous sea- side retreat ; " but good lobsters are still abundant there, and one can get a greasy beefsteak, black bread, an ill-cooked chicken, and sour \vine, at only about twice their market value. The situ- ation is lovely, with the sea washing in along the rounded rim of the coast, close up to the door of the inn ; and on a sunny day, when the white wings of feluccas may be seen gleaming far off on the blue Mediterranean, and the fishermen are drawing their nets close into shore, it seems as if it might really be made " a volup- tuous seaside retreat," but for the desolating malaria which renders it dangerous to rest there for a single night. Here, of course, we stopped as short a time as possible ; and then, bidding adieu to the sea, struck inland over the Campagna to Rome. The country now grows wild, desolate, and lonely ; but it has a special charm of its own, which they who are only hurrying on to Rome, and to whom it is an obstruction and a tediousness, cannot, of course, perceive. It is dreary, w^eird, ghostly, — the home of the winds ; but its silence, sadness, and solitude are both soothing and impressive. After miles and miles up and down, at last, from the crest of a hill up which we slowly toiled with our lumbering carriage and reeking horses, we saw the dome of St. Peter's hanging above the city, which as yet was buried out of sight, like a tethered balloon. ItVas but a glimpse, and was soon lost. The postilion covered the worn-out lace of his shabby livery with a heavy cloak, which he flung over his shoulder to keep out the dampening air, gave a series of wild flourishes with his whip, broke into guttural explosions of voice to urge along his horses," and on we went full-gallop. The road grew more and more popu- lated as we approached the city. Carriages were out for a drive, or to meet friends on their way from Civita Vecchia ; and on foot * De Feriis Alsensibtis, Epist. III. See Denni^^'o Etruscan Antiquities, Vol. I. 4 ROBA DI ROMA, was many a little company of Romans, laughing and talking. At the osterias were groups seated under vine-covered arbours, or before the door, drinking leisurely their wine and watching the passers-by. At last, toward sundown, we stopped at the Porta Cavalleggieri, where, thanks to our lascia passare, we were detained but a minute, — and then we were in Rome. Over us rose the huge swelling dome of St. Peter's, golden with the last rays of sunset. The pillars of the gigantic colonnade of Bernini, as we jolted along, '' seemed to be marching by," in broad platoons. The fountains piled their flexile columns of spray and waved them to and fro. The great bell clanged from the belfry. Groups wandered forth in the great Piazza. The old Egyptian obelisk in the centre pointed its lean finger to the sky. We were in Rome ! This one moment of surprised sensation is worth the journey from Civita Vecchia. Entered by no other gate, is Rome so sud- denly and completely possessed. Nowhere is the contrast so instantaneous and vivid as here, between the silent, desolate Campagna, and the splendour of St. Peter's — between the burrows of primitive Christianity and the gorgeousness of ecclesiastical Rome. After leaving the Piazza, we get a glimpse of Hadrian's Mole, and of the rusty Tiber, as it hurries, " retortis litiore Etriisco vio~ lenter imdis^' as of old, under the statued bridge of St. Angelo, — and then we plunge into long, damp, narrow, dirty streets. Yet — shall I confess it ? — they had a charm for me. Twilight was deepening into dark as we passed through them. Confused cries and loud Italian voices sounded about me. Children were screaming, — men howling*their wares for sale. Bells were ringing everywhere. Priests, soldiers, peasants, and beggars thronged along. The Ti'asteverini were going home, with their jackets hanging over one shoulder. Women, in their rough woollen gowns, stood in the doorways bare-headed, or looked out from windows and balconies, their black hair shining under the lan- terns. Lights were twinkling in the little cavernous shops, and under the Madonna shrines far within them. A funeral pro- cession, with its black banners, gilt with a death's head and cross-bones, was passing by, its wavering candles borne by the DIFFERENT NOTIONS OF DIRT. 5 confraternitd^ who marched carelessly along, shrouded from head to foot in white, with only two holes for the eyes to glare through. It was dirty, but it was Rome ; and to any one who has long lived in Rome even its very dirt has a charm which the neatness of no other place ever had. All depends, of course, on what we call dirt. No one would defend the condition of some of the streets or some of the habits of the people. But the soil and stain which many call dirt I call colour, and the cleanliness of Amster- dam would ruin Rome for the artist. Thrift and exceeding clean- liness are sadly at war with the picturesque. To whatever the hand of man builds, the hand of Time adds a grace, and nothing is so prosaic as the rawly new. Fancy for a moment the differ- ence for the worse, if all the grim, browned, rotted walls of Rome, with their peeling mortar, their thousand daubs of varying grays and yellows, their jutting brickwork and patched stonework, from whose intervals the cement has crumbled off, their waving weeds and grasses and flowers, now sparsely fringing their top, now thickly protruding from their sides, or clinging and making a home in the clefts and crevices of decay, were to be smoothed to a com- plete level, and whitewashed over into an uniform and monoto- nous tint. What a gain in cleanliness ! what a loss in beauty ! An old wall like this I remember on the road from Grotta Ferrata to Frascati, which was to my eyes a constant delight. One day the owner took it into his head to whitewash it all over — to clean it, as some would say. I look upon that man as little better than a Vandal in taste, — one from whom " knowledge at one entrance" was "quite shut out." Take another " modem instance." Substitute for the tiled roofs of Rome, now so gray, tumbled, and picturesque with their myriad lichens, the cold, clean slate of New York, or the glit- tering zinc of Paris, — should we gain or lose ? The Rue de Rivoli is long, white, and uniform, — all new and all clean ; but there is no more harmony and melody in it than in the " damnable iteration " of a single note ; and even Time will be puzzled to make it as picturesque, or half as interesting as those old houses destroyed in the back streets for its building, and which had 6 ROBA DI ROMA. sprouted up here and there, according to the various whims of the various builders. Those were taken down because they were dirty, narrow, unsightly. These are thought elegant and clean. Clean they certainly are ; and they have one other peculiarity, — that of being as monotonously regular as the military despotism they represent. But I prefer individuality, freedom, and variety, for my own part. The narrow, uneven, huddled Corso, with here a noble palace, and there a quaint passage, archway, or shop, — the buildings now high, now low, but all barnacled over with bal- conies, — is far more interesting than the unmeaning uniformity of the Rue de Rivoli. So, too, there are those among us who have the bad taste to think it a desecration in Louis Napoleon to have scraped the stained and venerable Notre Dame into clean- liness. The Romantic will not consort with the Monotonous, — Nature is not neat, — Poetry is not formal, — and Rome is not clean. These thoughts, or ghosts of thoughts, flitted through my mind, as the carriage was passing along the narrow, dirty streets, and brought with them after-trains of reflection. There may be, I thought, among the thousands of travellers that annually winter at Rome, some to whom the common out-door pictures of modern Roman life would have a charm as special as the galleries and antiquities, and to whom a sketch of many things, which wise and serious travellers have passed by as unworthy their notice, might be interesting. Every ruin has had its score of i?ii7nortelles hung upon it. The soil has been almost overworked by antiqua- rians and scholars, to whom the modern flower was nothing, but the antique brick a prize. Poets and sentimentalists have de- scribed to death what the antiquaries have left ; — some have done their work so well that nothing remains to be done after them. Everybody has an herbarium of dried flowers from all the celebrated sites, and a table made from bits of marble collected in the ruined villas. Every Englishman carries a Murray for information and a Byron for sentiment, and finds out by them what he is to know and feel at every step. Pictures and statues have been staled by copy and description, until everything is stereotyped, from the Dying Gladiator, with his "young barba- rians all at play," and all that, down to the Beatrice Cenci, the BLUNDERS OF STRANGERS. 7 Madame Tonson of the shops, that haunts one everywhere with lier white turban and red eyes. All the public and private life and history of the ancient Romans, from Romulus to Constantine and Julian the Apostle (as he is sometimes called), is perfectly well known. But the common life of the modern Romans, the games, customs, and habits of the people, the every-day of To- day has been only touched upon here and there,— sometimes with spirit and accuracy, as by Charles M'P'arlane, sometimes wath grace, as by Hans Christian Andersen, and sometimes with ludicrous ignorance, as by Jones, Brown, and Robinson, w^ho see through the eyes of their courier, and the spectacles of their pre- judices. A life of several years in Rome has given me oppor- tunities to observe some things w^hich do not strike the hurried traveller, and to correct many of my own false notions in regard to the people and place. To a stranger, a first impression is apt to be a false impression ; and it constantly happens to me to hear strangers work out the falsest conclusions from the slightest premises, and settle the character and deserts of the Italians, — all of whom they mass together in a lump, — after they have been just long enough on the soil to travel from Civita Vecchia to Rome under the charge of a courier, — when they know just enough of the language to ask for a coachman when they want a spoon, — or to order a " mezzo deito " at the restaurant, — and when they have made the respectable acquaintance, besides their courier, of a few porters, a few beggars, a few shopkeepers, and the padrone of the apartment they hire. No one lives long in Rome without loving it ; and I must, in the beginning, confess myself to be in the same category. Those who shall read these slender papers without agreeing to the kindly opinions often expressed, must account for it by remem- bering that " Love lends a precious seeing to the eye." My aim is far from ambitious. I shall not be erudite, but I hope I shall not be dull. These little sketches may remind some of happy days spent under the Roman sky, and by directing the attention of others to what they have overlooked, may open a door to a new^ pleasure. Chi sa? The plainest Ranz des Vaches may some- times please when the fifth symphony of Beethoven would be a bore. CHAPTER II. STREET MUSIC IN ROME. Whoever has passed the month of December in Rome will remember to have been awakened from his morning dreams by the gay notes of the pifferari playing in the streets below, before the shrines of the Madonna and Bambino, — and the strains of one set of performers will scarcely have ceased, before the distant notes of another set of pilgrims will be heard to continue the well-known novena. The pifferai'i are generally contadini of the Abruzzi mountains, who, at the season of Advent, leave their home to make a pilgrimage to Rome, — stopping before all the wayside shrines, as they journey along, to play their glad music of welcome to the Virgin and the coming Messiah. Their song is called a novena, from its being sung for nine consecutive days,' — first for nine days previous to the Festa of the Madonna, which occurs on the 8th of December, and afterwards for the nine days preceding Christmas. The same words and music serve, however, for both celebrations. The pifferari always go in couples, one playing on the za77tpogna, or bagpipe, the bass and treble accom- paniment, and the other on the pifftro, or pastoral pipe, which carries the air ; and for the month before Christmas the sound of their instruments resounds through the streets of Rome wherever there is a shrine, — whether at the corners of the streets, in the depths of the shops, down little lanes, in the centre of the Corso, in the interior courts of the palaces, or on the stairways of private houses. , Their costume is extremely picturesque. On their heads they wear conical felt hats adorned with a frayed peacock's feather, or a faded band of red cords and tassels, — their bodies are clad in STREET MUSIC— PIFFERARL 9 red waistcoats, blue jackets, and small-clotlics of skin or yellowish homespun cloth, — skin sandals are bound to their feet with cords that interlace each other up the leg as far as the knee, — and over all is worn a long brown or blue cloak with a short cape, buckled closely round the neck. Sometimes, but rarely, this cloak is of a deep red with a scalloped cape. As they stand before the pic- . tures of the Madonna, their hats placed on the ground before them, and their thick, black, dishevelled hair covering their sun- burnt brows, blowing away on their instruments or pausing to sing their novefia, they form a picture which every artist desires to paint. Their dress is common to nearly all the peasantry of the Abruzzi, and, worn and tattered as it often is, it has a richness and harmony of tint which no new clothes could ever have, and for which the costumes of the shops and regular models offer a poor substitute. It is the old story again. The new and clean is not so paintable, not so picturesque, as the tarnished and soiled. The worn blue of the cloak is softened by the dull gray of the threads beneath, — patches of various colours are often let into the jacket or breeches, — the hat is lustreless from age, and rusty as an old wall, — and the first vivid red of the waistcoat is toned by constant use to a purely pictorial hue. Besides, the \x\iQ piffe?'aro wears his costume as if it belonged to him and had always been worn by him, — so that it has none of that got-up look which spoils everything. From the sandals and corded leggings, which, in the Neapolitan dialect, are termed doce^ the pifferari are often called ciociari. Their Christmas pilgrimages are by no means prompted by purely religious motives, though, undoubtedly, such considerations have some weight with them, the common peasantry being reli- giously inclined, and often making pilgrimages simply from a sense of duty and propriety. But in these wanderings to Rome, their principal object is to earn a little money to support them during the winter months, when their " occupation is gone." As they are hired in Rome by the owners of the various houses adorned with a Madonna shrine, (of which there are over fifteen hundred in the city) to play before them at the rate of a paul or so for each full ?iovena, and as they can easily play before thirty lo . ROBA DI ROMA. or forty a day, they often return, if their luck be good, with a tolerable little sum in their pockets. Besides this, they often stand as models, if they are good-looking fellows, and thus add to their store ; and then again, the fo7'estieri (for, as the ancient Romans called strangers barba7'i, so their descendants call them fof-estet's^ woodmen, wildmen) occasionally drop baiocchi and pauls into their hats still further to increase it. Sometimes it is a father and son who play together, but oftener two old friends who make the pilgrimage in pairs. This morning, as I was going out for a walk round the walls, two admirable spe- cimens of the piffe7'a7'i were performing the novena before a shrine at the corner of the street. The player of the bagpipe was an old man, with a sad, but very amiable face, who droned out the bass and treble in a most earnest and deprecatory manner. He looked as if he had stood still, tending his sheep, nearly all his life, until the peace and quiet of Nature had sunk into his being, or, if you will, until he had become assimilated to the animals he tended. The other, who played the pipe, was a man of middle age, stout, vigor- ous, with a forest of tangled black hair, and dark quick eyes that were fixed steadily on the Virgin, while he blew and vexed the little brown pipe with rapid runs and ntXYOM?, Jioriture, until great drops of sweat dripped from its round open mouth. Sometimes, when he could not play fast enough to satisfy his eagerness, he ran his finger up and down the vents. Then, suddenly lowering his instrument, he would scream, in a strong peasant voice, verse after verse of the novefta, to the accompaniment of the bagpipe. One was like a slow old Italian veitura all lumbered with luggage and held back by its drag ; the other panting and nervous at his work as an American locomotive, and as constantly running off the rails. Both, however, were very earnest at their occupation. As they stood there playing, a little group gathered round. A scamp of a boy left his sport to come and beat time with a stick on the stone step before them ; several children clustered near ; and two or three women, with black-eyed infants in their arms, also paused to listen and sympathize. At last the playing ceased- The pifferari took up their hats and looked round smilingly at us. " Where do you come from ? " I asked. STREET MUSIC— PIEFERARI. ii '^ Eh /" said \hcpifferaro, showing all his teeth, and shrugging his shoulders good-naturedly, while the other echoed the pantomime. '^ Dal Regno,'' for so the Abruzzi peasants call the kingdom of Naples. "And do you come every year?" '' S\ Sigfiore. He (indicating his friend) and I (pointing to himself) have been companions for thirty-three years, and every year we have come to Rome to play the novaiar To this the old zampognaro bent his head on one side, and said, assentingly, — ''Eh I per trenta tre annV And '' Ecco,'' continued the pifferaro, bursting in before the zampognaro could go on, and pointing to two stalwart youths of about twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, who at this moment came up the street with their instruments, — " These are our two sons. He is mine," — indicating one with his reversed thumb; "and that other is his," — jerking this head towards his companion. "And they, too, are going to play in company, as we do." " For thirty-three years more, let us hope," said I. ''Eh! speriamo'' (Let us hope so), was the answer of \he piffe- raro^ as he showed all his teeth in the broadest of smiles. Then, with a motion of his hand he set both the young men going, he himself joining in, straining out both his cheeks, blowing all the breath of his body into the little pipe, and running up and down the vents with a sliding finger, until finally he brought up against a high, shrill note, to which he gave the full force of his lungs, and after holding it in loud blast for a moment, startled us by breaking off, without gradation, into a silence as sudden as if the music had snapped short off like a pipe stem. On further conversation with my ciociari, I found that they came yearly from Sora, a town in the Abruzzi, about fifty miles from Rome, making the journey on foot, and picking up by the way whatever trifle of copper they could. In this manner they travelled the whole distance in five days, living upon onions, let- tuce, oil, and black bread. They were now singing the second 7iovena for Natale; and, if one could judge from their manner and 12 ROBA jDI ROMA. conversation, were quite content with what they had earned. I invited them up into my room, and there in the pleasantest way they stunned us with the noise of both their instruments, to the great deHght of the children and the astonishment of the ser- vants, for whom these common things had worn out their charm by constant repetition. At my request they repeated the words of the novena they had been singing, and I took them down from their hps. After eHminating the wonderful in-77is of the Neapo- litan dialect, in which all the words lay imbedded like shells in the sand, and supplying some of the curious elisions with which those Abruzzi Procrusteans recklessly cut away the polysyllables, so as to bring them within the rhythmic compass, they ran thus : — "Tu Verginella figlia di Sant' Anna, Che in ventre tuo portasti il buon Gesii ; E lo partoristi sotto la capanna, E dov' mangiav'no lo bue e 1' asinello. ** Quel Angelo gridava : * Venite, Santi ! 'Ch' e andato Gesii dentro la capanna ; Ma guardate Vergine beata, Che in ciel in terra sia nostr' avvocata ! ' ** San Giuseppe andava in compagnia, Si trovo al partorir di Maria. La notte di Natale e notte santa — II Padre e 1' Figliuolo e lo Spirito Santo. 'Sta la ragione che abbiamo cantato ; Sia a Gesii bambino rappresentato. " The sudden introduction of ^^ Quel Angelo^^ in this song reminds us of a similar felicity in the romantic ballad of " Lord Bateman," where we are surprised to learn that ^^this Turk^^ to whom no allusion had been previously made, " has one lovely daughter." The air to which this is sung is simple and sweet, though monotonous, and if for no other reason is interesting as being one of the oldest fragments of popular song existing in Italy. Between the verses, a curious little ritornello is played, and at the close of the last verse, there is a strange and solemn adagio. It will be found in the Appendix. STREET MUSIC— PIFFERARI. 13 The wanderings of the piffcrari are by no means confined to the Roman States. Sometimes they stray "as far away as Paris is," and, wandering about in that gay capital, hke children at a fair, play in the streets for chance sous^ or stand as models to artists, who, having once been in Rome, hear with a longing Rome-sickness the old characteristic sounds of the piffero and zampogna. Two of them I remember to have heard thus, as I was at work in my studio in Paris ; and so vividly did they recall the old Roman time, that I called them in for a chat. Wonderful was their speech. In the few months of their wandering, they had put into their NeapoHtan dough various plums of French words, which, pronounced in their odd way, " suffered a change into something rich and strange." One of them told me that his wife had just written to him by the hand of a public letter- writer, lamenting his absence, and praying him to send her his portrait. He had accordingly sent her a photograph in half-length. Some time afterwards she acknowledged the receipt of it, but indig- nantly remonstrated with him for sending her a picture of a ^^ mezz' iiomo, che pareva guardando per la finestra''^ (a half-man, who seemed to be looking out of the window), as she oddly characterized a half-length, and praying to have his legs also in the next portrait. This same fellow, with his dull, amiable face, played the role of a ferocious wounded brigand dragged into concealment by his wife, in the studio of a friend next door ; but despite the savagery and danger of his counterfeited posi- tion, he was sure to be overpowered by sleep before he had been in it more than five minutes, — and if the artist's eye left him for a moment, he never failed to change his attitude for one more fitted to his own somnolent propensities than for the picture. Every shopkeeper among the lower classes in Rome hires these pifferari to play before the little shrine behind his counter, or over his door, thinking thereby to procure the favour of the Madonna, without which his business is sure not to prosper Padre Bresciani relates that in the year 1849, he heard a stout Roman woman {iin graft' pczzo di donna) invoking a curse upon some of the birbanti then abroad in the city, after this 14 ROBA DI ROMA. manner, — ''^Eh ! Madonna Santissz?7ta, mandate un accidente a ^sti birboni'^ " Send an apoplexy to those rascals, most holy Madonna." " But, Sora Agnese," remonstrated the padre, " you must not invoke such curses upon anybody. You should forgive even wicked persons if you love the Madonna." ^^ If 1 love the Madonna!" was the reply. ^^ Figuratevi, sor compare mio — ^just imagine whether I love her, when every year I hire the piffei-ari to play the novena to her ! " But the Roman piffcrari cannot really be heard to advantage in the streets of Rome. In the mountains their pipe and bagpipe produce a wholly different impression, and I remember to have heard them once towards sundown at San Germano, when the effect was charming. Just before reaching the town, the road passes within a stone's throw of the ancient amphitheatre built by Umidia Quadratilla, and mentioned by Pliny. Here we ordered the carriage to stop, and running through the furrows of a ploughed field ascended the slope of the hill on which it stands. Though ruined in parts it is a noble structure ; the exterior walls of reticulated work are still in good condition, and its main front is tolerably perfect. Time has tinged its marble facings with a rich yellow hue, but has failed to eat out the cement or to shake the solid courses of its stones. Here and there shrubs, flowers, and one or two fig-trees have found a footing and grace its walls. Climbing through one of the round arches of entrance which is half choked with rubbish, we found ourselves within the enclosure. The interior is far more ruined than the exterior; the seats are all crumbled away and obliterated; and Indian corn, beans, and potatoes were growing in the arena. As we stood looking in silence upon this sad decay, we heard in the distance the pipe and bagpipe of some shepherds playing a melancholy pastoral tune. Nothing could be more charming ; — more perfectly in rhyme v/ith the mountains and the ruins. I could scarcely have believed such tones could come from a bagpipe. Softened by the distance, they lost their nasal drawl, and stole sweetly to our ears with that special charm which the rudest native music has when heard in its native place. Look- STREET MUSIC— BANDS— BALLAD SLNGERS. 15 ing through the archway over the distant valley and mountains, we listened to them enchanted. The piffcrari are by no means the only street musicians in Rome, though they take the city by storm at Christmas. Every day under my window comes a band of four or five, who play airs and concerted pieces from the operas, — and a precious work they make of it sometimes ! Not only do the instruments go very badly together, but the parts they play are not arranged for them. A violone grunts out a low accompaniment to a vinegar-sharp violin which saws out the air, while a trumpet blares in at inter- vals to endeavour to unite the two, and a flute does what it can, but not what it would. Sometimes, instead of a violone, a hoarse trombone, with a violent cold in the head, snorts out the bass impatiently, gets ludicrously uncontrollable and boastful at times, and is always so choleric, that, instead of waiting for the cadenzas to finish, it bursts in, knocks them over as by a blow on the head, roars away on false intervals, and overwhelms every other voice with its own noisy vociferation. The harmonic arrangements are very odd. Each instrument seems to consider itself ill-treated when reduced to an accompaniment or bass, and is constantly endea- vouring, however unfitted for it, to get possession of the air, — the melody being, for all Italians, the principal object. The violin, however, weak of voice as it is, always carries the day, and the other instruments steal discontentedly back to their secondary places, the snuffy old violone keeping up a constant groAvl at its ill-luck, and the trombone now and then leaping out like a tiger on its prey. Far better and more characteristic are the ballad-singers, who generally go in couples, — an old man, dim of sight, perhaps blind, who plays the violin, and his wife or daughter, who has a guitar, tamborello, or at times a mandolin. Sometimes a little girl accom- panies them, sings with them, and carries round a tin box, or the tamborello, to collect baiocchi. They sing long ballads to popular melodies, some of which are very pretty and gay, and for a baiocco they sell a sheet containing the printed words of the song, and headed by a rude woodcut. Sometimes it is in the form of a i6 ROBA DI ROMA, dialogue, — either a love-making, a quarrel, a reconciliation, or a leave-taking, — each singer taking an alternate verse. Sometimes it is a story with a chorus, or a religious conversation ballad, or a story of a saint, or from the Bible. Those drawn from the Bible are generally very curious paraphrases of the original simple text, turned into the simplest and commonest idioms • of the people • — one of them may be found in the Appendix to Goethe's "Italienische Reise." These Roman ballads and popular songs, so far as I am able to learn, have never been collected. Many of them do not exist in print, and are only traditional and caught from mouth to mouth. This is particularly the case with those in the Romanesco dialect, which are replete with the peculiar wit and spirit of the country. But the memory of man is too perilous a repository for such interesting material ; and it is greatly to be wished that some clever Italian, who is fitted for the task, would interest himself to collect them and give them a permanent place in the literature of his language. But to return to our ballad-singers, whom we have left in the middle of their song, and who are now finishing. A crowd has gathered round them, as usual ; out of the windows and from the balconies lean the occupants of the houses near by, and the baiocchi thrown by them ring on the pavement below. With rather stentorian voices they have been singing a dialogue which is most elaborately entitled a " Canzonetta Nuova, sopra un mari- naro che da 1' addio alia sua promessa sposa mentre egli deve partire per la via di Levante. Sdegno, pace, e matrimonio delli medesimi con intercalare sulF aria moderna. Rime di Francesco Calzaroni " — (A new song about a mariner, who says good-bye to his betrothed, he being on the point of leaving her to go to the East. Indignation, peace, and marriage of the same, with various parts, arranged in a modern air). I give my baiocco and receive in return a smiling " Grazie " and a copy of the song, which is adorned by a woodcut of a ship in full sail. The titles of these ballads are generally very characteristic ; one or two of them I will here copy to give an idea of the subjects of which they treat. Here, for instance, is " The Marriage by Con- course, where a tailor, a barber, a mason, a shoemaker, a car- STREET MUSIC. 17 penter, a locksmith and a cook arc the suitors ; " and here another, which treats of " The Repentance of Young Men after they have taken Wives ; " and one called a " New Song upon a quarrel between a mistress and her servant, whom she dismisses from her service because she spends too much money every day ; " and one entitled " The Blind Little Peasant, who complains of the wrongs he has suffered from Menica, and abandons her to marry another ; " and here is "a most beautiful composition upon an old woman who wishes to dress alia moday Here is another of a moral character, containing the sad history of Frederick the Gambler, who, to judge from the woodcut accompanying the Canzonetta, must have been a ferocious fellow. He stands with his legs wide apart, in half-armour, a great sash tied over his shoulder and swinging round his legs, an immense sword at his side, and a great hat with two ostrich feathers on his head, looking the very type of a '' swashing blade." The singers of longer ballads carry about with them sometimes a series of rudely-executed illustrations of different incidents in the story, painted in distemper and pasted on a large pasteboard frame, which is hung against a wall or on a stand planted behind the singer in the ground. These he pauses now and then in his song to explain to the audience, and they are sure to draw a crowd. But besides these ballads, there are many in the mouths of the people which are far more interesting and characteristic than any to be found in print. Here, for instance, is one which Niccolina is constantly singing, and it so amused me by its odd incidents and morals that I wrote it down from her dictation. It is evi- dently only a fragment ; but it was all she knew, and she declared that there was no more : — " Donna Lombarda perche non m'ami ? Perche ho marito ! Se hai marito Fa lo morir ! T' insegnero ! Va giu in giardino del Signor Padre Che c'e un serpente, — Piglia la testa Di quel serpente, — Pista la bene — Dopo che r hai bene pistato Mette la dentro una carafina — i8 ROBA DI ROMA. Vien a casa il marito tutti sudato, E chiede da bere — dagli da bere ! Lui demanda cos' e quest' aqua Tutta torbida ? Son tuoni e lampi Del altra sera. " * Every night during the spring, and sometimes during the clear evenings of wdnter, around the Piazza Barberini may be heard the sound of the guitar playing in accompaniment to a mandoline, as the performers march up and down the streets or stop before the little osierias ; and as summer comes on, and the evenings grow warm, begin the street serenades, — sometimes like that of Lindoro in the opening of the " Barbiere di Sevilla," but generally with only one voice, accompanied by the same instruments. These serenades are, for the most part, given by a lover or friend to his innamorata, and the words are expressive of the tender passion ; but there are also serenate di gelosia, or satirical serenades, when the most impertinent and stinging verses are sung. Long before arriving, the serenaders may be heard marching up the street to the thrum of their instruments. They then place themselves before the windows of the fair one, and, surrounded by a group of men and boys, make proclamation of their love in loud and often violent tones. It seems sometimes as if they considered the best method of expressing the intensity of their passion was by the volume of their voice. Certainly, in these cases, the light of love * For those who do not understand the original, here is a rough trans- lation : — " Lady from Lombardy, why don't you love me ? Because I've a husband ! If you've a husband, Cause him to die. I'll teach you how ! Go down in the garden of your signer father, You'll find a serpent. Take from the serpent Only his head. Crush it and bray it ! After you've crushed it and brayed it completely, Mix it all well in a bottle of water. Home comes your husband, hot and perspiring, Asks for some drink. Give him to drink this ! If he demand of you why is this water Turbid like this ? say 'tis the lightning And thunder last evening." STREET MUSIC— SOSPIRI H A MORE. 19 is not hidden under a bushel, for these serenaders shout out tlieir songs in stentorian tones, that pierce the silent air of night, and echo through the deserted streets. But though the voices are harsh, and the music rude and wild, the words of some of these serenades are very pretty and graceful, and particularly those that go by the name of " Sospiri d' amore : " — " Vorrei che la finestra omai s'aprisse, Vorrei che lo mio bene s'affacciasse, E un sospiro d' amore lo gradisse." In the mountain towns the coniadini know by heart hundreds of little songlets, which they shout under the windows of their sposine and lady-loves. Most of them consist of few lines, and all are variations upon the same theme. The stout contadina is a queen, a noble lady, a flower of beauty, a delicate creature, who deprives her lover of rest, and he comes to kiss the ground she has trod upon, and awakens the street with his lamenting, and prays her to come to the window and smile upon him. Love transfigures the world, and the peasant uses the noblest language. He sings : — ' ' Rizzatevi dal letto e uscite fuora, Venite a vede il cielo quanto e belle ; ' II vostro viso al lume della luna Par d' un angiolo fatto col penello. '* Oh Rosa delle rose, o Rosa bella, Per te non dormo ne notte ne giomo, E sempre penso alia tua faccia bella, Alle grazie che hai faccio ritomo. Faccio ritomo alle grazie che hai ; Ch' io ti lasci, amor mio, non creder mai. ** Miralo il cielo e mira quante stelle, E mira quanti nodi in quella rete ; Son piu le pene mie che non son chelle, Son pill le pene mie che dato m'ete, Son pill le pene mie ch' e tuoi martiri ; lo ti amo di buon cuore e tu t' adiri. ** Ti vengo a visitare, alma regina, Ti vengo a visitare alia tu' casa ; Inginocchioni per tutta la via, Bacio la terra andu che sei passata : 20 ROBA DI ROMA. Bacio la terra, e risguardo le mura, Dove se' passa, nobil creatura. Bacio la terra, e risguardo la tetta Dove passate, nobil giovanetta. •' Vada la voce mia dentro le mura, Di poi che vita mia non puo passare. Persona bella, delicata e pura. Da dove siete, statemi ad ascoltare ; Statemi ad ascoltar, persona cara, Per mia consolazione guardo 1' aria ; Statemi ad ascoltar, persona pura, Per mia consolazion guardo le mura." In the fulness of his feelings the lover invokes blessings, not only upon his mistress, but also on the house and all the family : — " In questa casa non ci ho piu cantato ; Vo' domandar I'usanza che ci sia. Se c'e del bene, Dio ce lo mantenga ! Se c'e del male, Dio lo mandi via ! Vo' benedir quella rosa incarnata, E lo padrone e tutta la brigata ; Vo' benedir quella rosa vermiglia, E lo padrone e tutta la famiglia." Sometimes, when his mistress lives far away in another town, he arrives late at night, and sings until the morning breaks, the bells ring, and the windows begin to open : then he sings, — Farewell : — " La vedo 1' alba che vuole apparire, Chiedo licenza, e non vo' piu cantare, Che le finestre si vedono aprire E le campane si sentono sonare. E si sente sonare in cielo e in terra ; Addio, bel gelsomin, ragazza bella. E si sente sonare in cielo e in Roma, Addio, bel gelsomin, bella persona. " * * These serenades will all be found in the " Canti Popolari Toscani," col- lected by Giuseppe Tigri. Note. — It is impossible in any translation to give the graceful terms of expression w^hich characterize these little songs — English is not the language of love, and wants the endearing diminutives of the Italian — but those who do not STREET MUSIC— RESPETTL 21 The technical name of the little serenades written in this form of eight lines is " Respetti," and the theme of which they treat is love. Sometimes they celebrate the beauty and charms of the maid in whose honour they are sung ; sometimes they utter bitter complaints against her for her hardness of heart \ and some- times they caricature her and turn her into ridicule. They are so full of grace, have so many happy terms of sentiment and such simplicity and grace of expression, that I am tempted to add a few more specimens of them, which I find transcribed by Professor Stanislao Bianciardi, who is himself the author of a number of these little poems, in which the popular spirit has been so ad- mirably caught that peasant and people have adopted them as their own ; and even learned professors have been taken in. In understand the original will find in these versions the sense, if not the grace, of these verses : — '* Rise from your bed, come out into the night ; Come, see the sky, so beautiful and bright ; In the soft splendour of the moon your face is Like to an angel's, that an artist traces. **Dear Rose of roses, Rose of loveliest grace. For thee I cannot sleep by night or day. And always thinking on thy happy face And all thy charms, I cannot keep away — Always returning thy sweet face to see, — Nor dream, dear love, that I can ever flee. *' Look at the stars that sparkle in the skies ! Behold the knots that in this net are wove ! My griefs are more than all those starry eyes, More than those knots, that you have made by love ! But though my pains are more than yours can be, — Loving with all my heart — you turn from me. *' I come, dear maid, to visit your abode — I come to see you, and to sing my song — And kneeling all the way along the road, I kiss the ground where you have passed along ; I kiss the ground, and gaze upon the wall Where you have passed, oh ! noblest maid of all ! I kiss the ground, and gaze upon the eaves "Whose roof, oh, noble maid, your form receives ! 22 ROBA DI ROMA. fact, the first and one of the most graceful of those which I have translated above, beginning '' Rizzatevi dal letto ed uscite fuora," is from his pen. But I count it no shame to have fallen into the error of supposing it to be a popular respetto, since I share that error with Tommaseo and the Abate Tigri. " O gentilina. gentilina tutta ! Garofanate son vostre parole, E I'alito che v'esce dalla bocca Odora piu d'un mazzo di viole. Odora piii d'un mandrulo e d'un pino La bella bocca, e il bel parlar divino. Odora piu d'un mandrulo e d'un pesco La bella bocca, e il bel parlare onesto. '* Go ! voice of mine, these walls to penetrate, Since where thou art, my love, I cannot go. Oh, maiden lovely, pure, and delicate. From where you lie listen to me below ! List to my song, oh, dearest and most fair ! Who, to console me, gaze into the air ! List to my song, oh, purest one of all, Who, to console me, gaze at this blank wall. " Within this house I never sang before, — I wish the friendship of the house to pray ; If there be good — God keep it evermore ! If there be ill — God drive the ill away ! I wish that fair and blushing rose to bless. And bring the house and master happiness. Oh, crimson rose ! my blessing rest on thee, And on the master and his family ! ' ' I see the dawn which now begins to break, I take my leave and will no longer sing, The windows open and the world's awake, And everywhere the bells begin to ring. In earth and heaven I hear them ringing clear. Farewell, sweet jasmine, lovely maid and dear ; In heaven and Rome I hear them ring and knell. Farewell, fair maid, beloved one, farewell ! " STREET MUSIC— RESPETTL ** L'e tanto tempo che I'eramo muti, Decciici ritornati alia favclla ; E I'angiuli del cielo son vicnuti, L'hanno porta la pace in tanta guerra. E son vienuti I'angiuli d'Amore L'hanno porta la pace nel mio cuore. E son vienuti I'angiuli di Dio L'hanno porta la pace nel cuor mio. '* Hai il viso bianco piii della farina Dove I'ha poste Iddio tante bellezze ; Quando passate voi I'aria s'inchina, Tutte le stelle vi fanno carezze. Dove passate voi I'aria si ferma ; Sete in cielo d'araor la vaga Stella. Dove passate voi I'aria si posa ; Sete in giardin d'amor la vaga rosa. *^ O rondinella che voli pell'aria, Ritorna addreto, e fammelo un piacere ; E dammela una penna di tu' alia, Che scrivero una lettera al mio bene : Quando I'avero scritta, e fatta bella Ti render^ la penna, o rondinella. *' Nel passar per la vetta di quel monte Al tuo bel nome mi venne pensato ; Mi messi inginocchioni a mani gionte Giurai d'amarti infin ch'avero fiato. Giurai d'amarti infin che avero core, La morte saran I'ultime parole. Giurai d'amarti infin che avero vita, La morte sara I'ultima partita. " * * Oh full of grace, all grace from head to foot ! Your words are like carnations the dew wets. The breath that issues from your gentle mouth Is sweeter than a bunch of violets ; And sweeter than the almond and the pine Your lovely mouth and your fair speech divine ; And sweeter than the almond or the peach Your lovely mouth and your frank honest speech. How long is it that we have both been dumb ? But now we have begun to speak once more. And angels out of heaven to us are come To bring us peace after so long a war. 24 ROBA DI ROMA. Another form of popular song is to be found in the RitornelH, which consist of only three lines, the first of which is often, though not necessarily, the invocation of a flower. These are sung to a wild strident air, and may be heard all over the Campagna and in the country towns, as well as in the city. Wherever there is a knot of women washing at a fountain, or a band of workmen coming from the fields, or a line of carretUeri with their wine carts rattling to Rome, you are pretty sure to hear at intervals these snatches of melody. As you drive along the Campagna they reach you from the distance in a long sad wail or " dying fall," sung by the peasant as he tills the ground. Sometimes a lonely workman solaces his toil by screaming them at the top of his voice ; some- times a group alternately answer each other with their ritornelli. There are myriads of them scattered everywhere over the moun- Angels of love are come to heal my pain And to this heart of mine bring peace again. Angels of God are come with love divine To bring their peace unto this heart of mine. Whiter than flour is that pale face of thine Where God hath placed such beauty and such graces, That M^hen you pass the very winds incline And all the stars above you send caresses. Whene'er you pass, the hushed winds cease to move, Oh ! loveliest star in all the heaven of love ; Whene'er you pass, the winds in peace repose, And in Love's garden you're the loveliest rose. Oh ! swallow flying swiftly down the wind, Return and grant me, please, one boon to-night ; And from your wings one little feather lend. That I a letter to my love may write ; And when 'tis written out all fair and clear I will give back the pen, oh swallow dear ! As o'er the crest of yonder hill I passed The thought of thy sweet name came over me, And kneeling on the ground my hands I clasped And pledged, while life should last, my love to thee. I swore to love thee, long as beats this heart, Till death with its last words our lives dispart. I swore to love thee long as life remains, Till death dispart us with its last sad pains. STREET MUSIC— RITORNELLI. 25 tains and towns like wild flowers, and all to be had for the gather- ing. But it is only of late days that there has been any effort to collect these wild songs, that would well repay the trouble. The thanks of all lovers of natural and popular poetry are due to Mr. C. Blessig, who has lately collected and printed some 400 of these Roman Ritornelli, all of which, he tells us, were transcribed from the mouth of the people themselves. In his preface he informs us that he has also made a collection of Ottave, Tarantelle and Canzonette, which, it is to be hoped, will be soon published. The following, which I have taken from Mr. Blessig's collection, will give an idea of the character of the Roman Ritornelli : — ''Fior di Genestra ! La vostra mamma non vi marita apposta, Par non levar quel fior dalla finestra. " Fior di More! Te Thai rubate le perle alio mare AI albero li frutti, a me sto cuore. "Fiore di Mele ! Pare che non ci possiamo abbandonare Fra voi e me qualche cosetta c'ene. ** Fiore di Timo ! Venti persone e piu tenete al remo, E poi volete dir ch' lo sono il primo. "Fior di Nocca! Non la potei baciar la tua boccuccia Baciai la campanella della porta. ' ' Fiore dell' Ormo ! Quando che scrissi donna scrissi danno Scrissi la rovina di questo mondo. " Fiore di Riso ! E Gesu Cristo lo voglio per sposo La Festa la faremo in Paradise. ''Fiordi Piselli ! Come vi stanno ben questi coralli ! Come al somaro mio li campanelli. "Fiore di Pepe ! Moriro, moriro, non dubitate Quando morta sar6, mi chiamerete. 26 ROBA DI ROMA. " Fior di Granato ! La vedovella che non ha marito Mi pare un palazzetto spigionato. *' Fiore di Mento ! La Roba va e vien' come va il vento La donna bella fa I'uomo contento. *' Fior di Gramiccia ! Quando sta sto prete per dir sta messa Lo mio amor va di fuori e fischia. "Fiore di Menta ! Quando sara quella giornata santa Che il prete mi dira : ' Siete contenta. ' "Fiore di Canna ! Quando le tue bellezze vanno alia vigna, Cielo ! quanto risplende la campagna ! " Fior di Carote! A punta di pianella camminate Con tanta civilta ci vuol la dote. "Oh bella sei! Porti la canocchia, indove tu vai, E fill o non fili, tu bella sei. "Occhi negrelli ! O ! quanto pagherei per rivederli Gl' occhietti del mio amor graziosi e belli. " In cima d'un monte Volo 'na tortorella sulle spalle Mi disse : ' Lo tuo ben mo va alia fonte. " Sta notte m'insognavo che morivo Con tanto desiderio vi chiamavo Dicendo : " Dammi ajuto cuore mio ! " Avete la boccuccia piccinina ; Quando m' avete a dir qualche parola Sempre me la fate la risatina. Se il Papa mi donasse tutta Roma, E mi dicesse ; " lascia andar chi t'ama," lo gli direi, "di no, sacra Corona." Voglio pigliar marito a Pasqua Rosa, E non mi euro se n' c'e niente in casa, Quando c'e il marito, c'e ogni cosa. STREET MUSIC—RITORNELLI. 27 Non la pigliate bianca, ch 'e sciapita ; Non la pigliate rossa, ch' e focosa Pigliala morctta, ch' e sapoiita. " E per marito voglio uA muratore Mi fa la camerella per dormire E la finestrella per far I'amore. " E quanto suona ben sto violino Massimamente chi lo porta in mano E dice 'Balla, Balla, Ballerina!' " E quanto suona ben questa chitarra, Massimamente I'ultima cordicella — Mi pare lo mio amore quando parla. * ' La gioventu e casa senza scale, E un bastimento in mar I'eta virile, Ed e I'eta canuta uno spedale. " Garofalo piantato alia finestra, Prima si custodisce, e poi s'innacqua, E poi si ricoglie un giorno di festa. *' Ho colto una rosettanel giardino lo sono il giardiniero che I'adora Colsi la rosa e mi pungio lo spino." Flower of the broom ! For this your mother will not marry you — Not to deprive her window of your bloom. Flower of the blackberry ! 'Tis you that steal the pearls from out the sea, And from the tree its fruit — and, ah ! my heart from me. Flower of the apple-tree ! It seems we never quite can quit each other. Some little thing there is 'twixt you and me. Flower of the thyme ! Twenty and more you keep them at the oar Till you pretend to say — I'm first and prime. Oh nocca floM'er ! I could not kiss that little mouth of yours, And so I kissed the bell upon the door. Flower of the elm ! When I wrote woman, I wrote also woe-man, The ruin wrote that will the world overwhelm. 28 ROBA DI ROMA. Flower of the rice ! And Jesus Christ for husband I desire, And we our fete will keep in Paradise. Flower of the pea ! Just as becoming corals are to you, As on my donkey little bells would be. , Flower of the clove ! Oh ! I shall die, shall die, — you need not fear ; But when I'm dead, then you will call me, Love. Flower of pomegranate-plants ! The little widow with no husband seems An unlet palace that a lodger wants. Flower of the mint ! Things come and go as comes and goes the wind ; But a dear woman makes a man content. Flower of the thistle ! While this old priest is saying here his mass, I hear my love outside pass by and whistle. Flower of the mint ! Oh when will come to me that blessed day When the priest says to me, " Are you content ?" Flower of the cane ! When to the vineyard all your beauty goes. Heavens ! how the whole campagna glows again. Oh carrot flower ! How nice you step upon your slippers' points, You are so dainty, — you should have a dower. Oh you are fair ! The distafif wheresoe'er you go you bear, And if you spin or spin not, you are fair. Oh dark eyes dear ! What would I give to see you once again. My love's sweet eyes, so gracious and so clear ? High up upon the mountain There flew a turtle-dove above my shoulder And said, " Your love's now going to the fountain.' Last night, asleep, I dreamed that I was dying, And such a longing for you haunted me, That " heart of mine, oh, help me," I kept crying. STREET MUSIC— RITORNELLI. • 29 That little mouth is sweet as mouth can be ; Whenever you've a word or two to say You always make that little smile for me. If the Pope offered all Rome to bestow, And said to me — 'Let him who loves you, go ! ' I'd say to him : * oh Holy Rosary, no ! ' A husband I will have before the spring ! I care not if there's nothing in the house, When there's a husband, there is every thing. Choose her not white, for then she has no savour ! Choose her not red, or fiery you will have her ! But choose her dark, for then she's full of flavour ! A mason for my husband I will take, To build me a little room where I may sleep. And a little window where I love may make. How sweetly sounds the violin you play, And most when you who hold it in your hand Cry, *' Dance, my merry dancers, dance away." And oh ! how sweet the sound of that guitar, And most of all that last dear little string. It seems as if my love wez-e talking there. Youth is a house that has no stairs at all, And like a ship at sea is manhood's prime, And hoary age is but a hospital. The spiced-carnation at the window planted, First carefully we keep and then we water, Then pluck when for a festal day 'tis wanted. I in the garden plucked a rose this mom, I am the gardener, who adore this rose ; I plucked it, and it pricked me with its thorn. Among the Trasteverini, particularly, these serenades are com- mon. Some of them are very clever in their improvisations and imitations of different dialects, particularly of the NeapoHtan, in which there are so many charming songs. Their skill in impro- visation, however, is not generally displayed in their serenades, but in the osterias, during the evenings of Xhefestas in summer. There it is that their quickness and epigrammatic turn of expression are best seen. Two disputants will, when in good- 30 ROBA DI ROMA. humour and warmed with wine, string off verse after verse at each other's expense, full of point and fun, — the guitar burring along in the intervals, and a chorus of laughter saluting every good hit. It is not uncommon for those who like to study Roman man- ners and humours, and eat truly Roman dishes, to make up a little party and dine at the Palombella, or some other osteria con cucina in the Trastevere. There, however, if you would get a taste of the real spirit of the Romans, you should go incognito and take your place at the tables in the common room, and pass, if you can, for one of them, or at least not for a looker-on or a listener. One other thing also is essential, and that is, that you should understand their language well ; and then, if you are lucky, you will be rewarded for your pains by hearing capital songs and improvisations. One lucky night I shall never forget, when we made a little party of artists and poets and dined together in a little osteria not far from the Piazza Barberini. Peppo, the Neapolitan cook, gave us an excellent dinner, wonderful maccaroni and capital wine, and while we ate and drank, a guitar and mandoline in the adjoining room made a low accompaniment to our talk. We went in our worst coats and most crumpled hats, tried to attract as little atten- tion as possible, and sat at a table in the corner. The rest of the company was composed solely of working men, several of whom were carters, who came in after their hard day's work to take a temperate supper in their shirt-sleeves. Yet even in what is called the "best society" you will not find simpler or better manners, at once removed from servility and defiance. They soon saw that we were not of their class, but their behaviour to us was perfect. All the staring was done by us. They accepted courteously our offers to drink with them, and offered us of their wine in return. Then they talked and jested and played at Passatello with inimit- able good-humour ; while old Zia Nica, the padrona of the estab- lishment, sat in the middle of the shabby old pot-house, looking with sharp wild eyes out from under a grey fell of tumbled hair — now shrieking out her orders, now exchanging with the new comers keen jokes that flashed like knives, and were received with tumul- STREET MUSIC— ZIA NIC AS TARANTELIA. 31 tuous applause. As our dinner drew to a close we had in the mandoline and guitar, and all the opera tunes were played with great cleverness. Was there ever a better mandoline? — liow it tingled and quivered as it nervously rang out the air, with its stinging vibrations and tense silvery shakes, while the soft woolly throb of the guitar kept up a constant accompaniment below ! The old cobwebs on the dusky, soiled and smoky beams of the ceiling, where the colours of old frescoes were still to be seen, shook to the music, and the flame of the little onion-shaped light before the coarsely-painted engraving of the Madonna seemed to wink in sympathy. Old Zia Nica herself grew excited when a spirited Tarantella was played. She had danced it when young in Naples. '•' Che bella cosa I and I could dance it now," she cried. *' Brava, Zia Nica ! — give us a Tarantella," was the cry all round. ''^ Eh! Perche noV — and up she stood and shook her long fell of hair, and laughed a wild laugh, and showed her yellow teeth, and up and down the old osteria she shuffled and tramped, flinging up her hands and snapping her fingers, and panting and screaming, till at last with a whoop she fell down into her chair, planted her two hands akimbo on her knees, glared at the company, and cried out, "Old Zia Nica's not dead yet. Nbj Signori ! The old woman is not so old but that she can dance a Tarantella still — grazie a Dio — no, Sigmri-i-i-ir Scarcely was this performance finished when the glass door jingled at the entrance of a little middle-aged fellow who had come across the street for a fiasco of wine. He was received with a shout of welcome. " Give us a toast in rhyme," cried one. " Bravo ! give us a toast in rhyme," echoed all ; and spinning round on his feet with a quick, eager face, and flinging out his hands with nervous gesticulation, he suddenly, in a high voice, poured out a volley of humorous rhymes upon one after another of his friends, then launched a brindisi at us, and — hey, presto change ! — was out of the door in a minute, the sharp bell jingling as he closed it, and a peal of laughter pursuing him. So being in the humour, we called for some improvisation, and the mandoline and guitar began an air and accompaniment in ottava rima. After a minute or two, one of the men at the head of the table opposite broke out in a 32 ROBA DI ROMA. loud voice, and sang, or rather chanted a strophe ; and scarcely had the instruments finished the little iHiornello, when another answered him in a second strophe — to this he responded, and so alternately for some time the improvisation went on without a break. Then suddenly rose from the opposite end a third person, a carter, who poured out two or three strophes without stopping ; and after him still another carter broke in. So that we had four persons improvising in alternation. This lasted a full half-hour, and during the whole time there was not a pause or hesitation. The language used was uncommonly good, and the ideas were of a character you w^ould little have anticipated from such a com- pany. The theme was art and love and poetry and music, and some of the recitation was original and spirited. Out of Italy could anything like this be seen ? But the sound of music and song had reached the ears of the police, and their white-barred figures and chapeaux appeared at the door, and despite all our prayers they stopped the improvisation. This broke up the fun, and it was then proposed that we should go to the Colosseum in two carriages with the music. No sooner said than done. Off ran Antonio for the carriages, and in a few minutes we were on our way, through the Corso and down through the Forum, the mandoline and guitar playing all the way. Such a night would be incomplete without a serenade ; for the mandoline and guitar were made for such uses. So we stopped under the windows of one fair lady, and though- our voices were loud, I fear they never reached her, as she happened not to be within a dozen or more miles of us. In many of the back streets and squares of the city, fountains jet out of lions' heads into great oblong stone cisterns, often suffi- ciently large to accommodate some thirty washerwomen at once. Here the common people resort to wash their clothes, and with great laughter and merriment amuse themselves while at their work by improvising verses, sometimes with rhyme, sometimes without, at the expense of each other, or perhaps of the passer- by, — particularly if he happen to be a gdo^m.gfo7'esticre^ to whom their language is unintelligible. They stand on an elevated stone step, so as to bring the cistern about mid-height of their body, and STREET MUSIC— AT THE FOUNTAINS. 'r,:^, on the rough indined bevel of its rim they slash and roll the clothes, or, opening them, flaunt them into the water, or gather them together, lifting their arms high above their heads, and always treating them with a violence which nothing but the coarsest material can resist. The air to which they chant their couplets is almost always a Campagna melody. Sharp attacks are given and as sharp replies received, in exceeding good humour ; and when there is little wit there is sure to be much laughter. The salt is oftentimes pretty coarse, but it gives a relish to the talk. A remarkable trait among the Italians is the good nature with which they take personal jokes, and their callousness to ridicule of personal defects. Jests which would provoke a blow from an Anglo-Saxon, or wound and rankle in the memory for life, are here taken in good part. A cripple often joins in the laugh at his own deformity ; and the rough carelessness with which such personal misfortunes are alluded to is amazing to us of a more sensitive organization. I Avell remember the extreme difficulty I once had in breaking an Italian servant of the habit of announcing an acquaintance, whose foreign name he could not pronounce, and who had the misfortune to be hump-backed, as " quel gobbo " (that hunchback). He could not understand why he should not call him 2^ gobbo ^ if he was d. gobbo ; and in spite of all I could do, he would often open the door and say, " Signore, quel gobbo deszde?'a farle una vtsita^^ (that hunchback wishes to make you a visit), when ^^ quel gobbo ''^ was close on his heels. The Italians are also singularly free from that intense self- consciousness which runs in our English blood, and is the root of shyness, awkwardness, and affectation. Unconsciousness is the secret of grace, freedom, and simplicity. We never forget our- selves. The Italians always forget themselves. They are some- times proud, very seldom vain, and never affected. The converse peculiarity follows, of course : having no self-consciousness, they are as little sensitive to their defects as vain of their charms. The models who come to the studios, and who have been selected for their beauty, despite the silent flattery incident to their very pro- fession, and the lavish praise they constantly hear expressed, are always simple, natural, and unaffected. If you tell them they are 34 ROB A DI ROMA. very beautiful, they say, ''Ma cheV deprecatorily, or perhaps admit the fact. But they are better pleased to have their dress admired than their faces. Of the former they are vain, of the latter they are not. For the most part, I think they rather wonder what it is we admire in them and think worthy of perpetuating in stone or colour. But to return to our washerwomen. In every country-town a large washing-cistern is always provided by the authorities for public use ; and, at all hours of the day, the picturesque figures of the peasants of every age, from the old hag, whose skin, once smooth and blooming, is now like a brown and crumpled palimpsest (where Anacreontic verses are overwritten by a dull monkish ser- mon), to the round, dark-eyed girl, with broad, straight back and shining hair, may be seen gathered around it, — their heads pro tected from the sun by their folded tovaglie, their skirts knotted up behind, and their waists embraced by stiff, red boddices. Their work is always enlivened by song, — and when their clothes are all washed, the basket is lifted to the head, and home they march, stalwart and majestic, like Roman caryatides. The sharp Italian sun shining on their dark faces and vivid costumes, or flashing into the fountain, and basking on the gray, weed-covered walls, makes a picture which is often enchanting in its colour. At the Emissary near Albano, where the waters from the lake are emptied into a huge cistern through the old conduit built by the ancient Romans to sink the level of the lake, I have watched by the hour these strange pictorial groups, as they sang and thrashed the clothes they were engaged in washing; while over them, in the foreground, the tall grey tower and granary, once a castle, lifted itself in strong light and shade against the peerless blue sky, and rolling hills beyond, covered with the pale-green foliage of rounded olives, formed the characteristic background. Sometimes a peasant, mounted on the crupper of his donkey, would pause in the sun to chat awhile with the women. The children, meanwhile, sprawled and played upon the grass, and the song and chat at the fountain would not unfrequently be interrupted by a shrill scream from one of the mothers, to stop a quarrel, or to silence a cry which showed the stoutness of their little lungs. STREET MUSIC— COBBLERS. 35 The cobblers of Rome are also a gay and singing set. They do not imprison themselves in a dark cage of a shop, but sit '■''sub Jove,'' where they may enjoy the life of the street and all the *' skyey influences." Their benches are generally placed near the portone of some palace, so that they may draw them under shelter when it rains. Here all day they sit and draw their wax-ends and sing, — a row of battered-looking boots and shoes ranged along on the ground beside them, and waiting for their turn, being their only stock in trade. They commonly have enough to do, and as they pay nothing for shop-rent, every baiocco they get is nearly clear profit. They are generally as poor as Job's cat ; but they are far happier than the proprietor of that interesting animal. Figaro is a high ideal of this class, and about as much like them as Raffaello's angels are like Jeames Yellowplush. What the cob- blers and Figaro have in common is song and a love of scandal. One admirable specimen of this class sits at the corner of the Via Felice and Capo le Case, with his bench backed against the gray wall. He is an oldish man, with a long gray beard and a quizzical face, — a sort of Hans Sachs, who turns all his life into verse and song. When he comes out in the morning, he chants a domestic idyl, in which he narrates in verse the events of his household, and the differences and agreements of himself and his wife, whom I take to be a pure invention. This over, he changes into song everything and every person that passes before him. Nothing that is odd, fantastic, or absurd escapes him, or fails to be chroni- cled and sarcastically commented on in his verse. So he sits all day long, his mind like a kaleidoscope, changing all the odd bits of character which chance may show him into rhythmic forms, and chirps and sings as perpetually as the cricket. Friends he has without number, who stop before his bench — from which he ad- ministers poetical justice to all persons — to have a long chat, or sometimes to bring him a friendly token ; and from the dark in- terior of his drawer he often brings forth an orange, a bunch of grapes, or a handful of chestnuts, supplied by them, as a dessert for the thick cabbage-soup which he eats at mid-day. In the busiest street of Rome, the pure Campagna song may often be heard from the throat of some peasant, as he slowly 36 ROBA DI ROMA. rumbles along in his loaded wine-cart, the little dog at his side barking a sympathetic chorus. This song is rude enough, and seems in measure founded upon the Church chant. It is in the minor key, and consists ordinarily of two phrases, ending in a screaming monotone, prolonged until the breath of the singer fails, and often running down at the close into a blurred chro- matic. No sooner is one strain ended than it is suddenly taken up again in p7'estissimo time and "slowed" down to the same dismal conclusion. Heard near, it is deafening and disagreeable. But when refined by distance, it has a sad and pleasing effect, and seems to belong to the place, — the long wail at the close being the very type of the melancholy stretches of the Campagna. In the same way I have frequently thought that the Jodeln of the Swiss was an imitation of the echo of the mountains, each note repeated first in octave, or fifth, and then in its third below. The Campagna song is to be heard not only in the Campagna, but everywhere in the country, — in the vineyards, in the grain-fields, in mountain and valley, from companies working together, and from solitary contadim, — wherever the influence and sentiment of the Roman Campagna are felt. The moment we get into Tuscany, on the one side, or over into Naples, on the other, it begins to be lost. It was only the other day, at nightfall, that I was sauntering out on the desolate Campagna towards Civita Vecchia. The shadows were deepening and the mists beginning to creep whitely along the deep hollows. Everything was dreary and melancholy enough. As I paused to Hsten to the solitude, I heard the grind of a distant invisible cart, and the sound of a distant voice singing. Slowly the cart came up over the crest of the hill, a dark spot against the twilight sky, and mounted on the top of a load of brush- wood sat a contadino, who was singing to himself these words, — not very consolatory, perhaps, but so completely in harmony with the scene and the time that they struck me forcibly : — **E, bella, tu non piangera-a-a-i, Sul giorno ch' io saro mor-or-or-to-o-o-o-o-o. " * * "And, dearest, you will never weep forme-e-e-e, The day when I shall be no mo-o-o-ore." STREET MUSIC— HABIT OE SONG. 37 Not only at night and to celebrate their love do the Italian peasants sing, — they sing at their work and at their play. All the long summer days, standing in the breast-high corn, or beating with heavy spade the soil, or plucking clusters of purple grapes, they shriek out their ballads and songs in stentorian tones that may be heard for a mile. During the harvesting seasons they gather together at night, and lying under the light of the moon upon their threshing-floors, sing in chorus their simple melodies. And in the long winter evenings, sitting round the smouldering embers of their fires, they " rouse the night -owls " at their vegite, or beat time to their constantly interrupted song with the clatter- ing of their looms. The city also sings as well as the country. The carpenter as he drives his plane ; the blacksmith as he wields his hammer and strikes from the sputtering iron its fiery constel- lations ; the cobbler as he pounds the soles of old shoes ; the mason as he lays his bricks ; the rougher-out as the chips of ring- ing marble fly under the steel point of his chisel ; the maid-of-all- work as she draws water in the court-yard — -all solace themselves with song. As the crowd stream back from the theatre, towards midnight, you hear them shouting the airs of the opera they have just been listening to; and oftentimes, on festal nights, in the "sma' hours ayont the twal," the prolonged screaming song of the peasants rouses you from your first slumbers as it sounds through the echoing streets. Since the revolution in 1848, Rome has been stricken with a morose silence; — but in the brilliant days when Pius IX. first came to the Papal chair the city rang with glad, patriotic songs ; and every evening bands of young men met in the Piazza or wandered through the Corso singing in chorus. The moment the Italians are contented they sing, and there is no clearer proof of their present discontent than the com- parative silence of the streets in these latter days. Whether this constant habit of song among the Southern people, while at their work, indicates happiness and content, I will not undertake to say ; but it is pleasanter in effect than the sad silence in which we Anglo-Saxons perform our tasks, — and it seems to show a less harassed and anxious spirit. But I feel quite sure that these people are more easily pleased, contented with less, 3^ ROBA DI ROMA. less morose, and less envious of the ranks above them, than we are. They give little thought to the differences of caste, have little ambition to make fortunes or rise out of their condition, and are satisfied with the commonest fare, if they can get enough of it. The demon of dissatisfaction never harries them. When you speak to them, they answer with a smile which is nowhere else to be found. The nation ia old, but the people are children in dis- position. Their character is like their climate, generally sunny, — subject to violent occasional storms, but never growling life away in an uncomfortable drizzle of discontent. They live upon Nature, — sympathize with it and love it, — are susceptible to the least touch of beauty, — are ardent, if not enduring in their affec- tions, — and, unless provoked and irritated, are very peaceful and amiable. The flaw in their nature is jealousy ; and it is a great flaw. Their want of truth is the result of their education. We who are of the more active and busy nations despise them for not having that irritated discontent which urges us forward to change our condition; and we think our ambition better than their supineness. But there is good in both. We do more, — they enjoy more ; we make violent efforts to be happy, — invent, create, labour, to arrive at that quiet enjoyment which they own without struggle, and which our anxious strife unfits us to enjoy when the means for it are obtained. The general, popular idea, that an Italian is quarrelsome and ill-tempered, and that the best are only bandits in disguise, is quite a mistake ; ajid when studied as they exist out of the track of travel, where they are often debased and denaturalized, they will be found to be simple, kind-hearted, and generous. CHAPTER III. BEGGARS IN ROME. Directly above the Piazza di Spagna, and opposite to the Via de' Condottij rises the touble towers of the Trinita de' Monti. The ascent to them is over one hundred and thirty-five steps, planned with considerable skill, so as to mask the steepness of the Pincian, and forming the chief feature of the Piazza. Various landings and dividing walls break up their monotony ; and a red granite obelisk, found in the gardens of Sallust, crowns the upper terrace in front of the church. All day long, these steps are flooded with sunshine, in which, stretched at length, or gathered in picturesque groups, models of every age and both sexes bask away the hours when they are free from employment in the stu- dios. Here, in a rusty old coat, and long white beard and hair, is the Fadre Eterno^ so called from his constantly standing as model for the First Person of the Trinity in religious pictures. Here is the ferocious bandit, with his thick black beard and conical hat, now off duty, and sitting with his legs wide apart, munching in alternate bites an onion, which he holds in one hand, and a lump of bread, which he holds in the other. Here is the contadina, who spends her studio life in praying at a shrine with upcast eyes, or lifting to the Virgin her little sick child, — or carry- ing a perpetual copper vase to the fountain, — or receiving imagi- nary bouquets at a Barmecide Carnival. Here is the invariable pilgrim, with his scallop-shell, who has been journeying to St. Peter's and reposing by the way near aqueducts or broken columns so long that the memory of man runneth not to the contrary, and who is now fast asleep on his back, with his hat pulled over his eyes. When strangers come along, the little ones run up and thrust out 40 ROBA DI ROMA. their hands for baiocchi ; and so pretty are they with their large, black, lustrous eyes, and their quaint, gay dresses, that a new comer always finds something in his pocket for them. Sometimes a group of artists, passing by, will pause and steadily examine one of these models, turn him about, pose him, point out his defects and excellences, give him a baiocco, and pass on. It is, in fact, a models' exchange. All this is on the lower steps, close to the Piazza di Spagna ; but as one ascends to the last platform, before reaching the upper piazza in front of the Trinita de' Monti, a curious squat figure, with two withered and crumpled legs, spread out at right angles and clothed in long blue stockings, comes shuffling along on his knees and hands, which are protected by clogs. As it approaches, it turns suddenly up from its quadrupedal position, takes off its hat, shows a broad, stout, legless iorso^ with a vigorous chest and a ruddy face, as of a person who has come half-way up from below the steps through a trap-door, and with a smile whose breadth is equalled only by the cunning which lurks round the corners of the eyes, says, in the blandest and most patronizing tones, with a rising inflection, ^^ Biion giorfio, Signore ! Oggi fa bel te7npo,^^ or " fa cattivo te7npo,'^ as the case may be. This is no less a per- son than Beppo, King of the Beggars, and Baron of the Scale di Spagna. He is better known to travellers than the Belvedere Torso of Hercules at the Vatican, and has all the advantage over that wonderful work, of having an admirable head and a good digestion. Hans Christian Andersen has celebrated him in " The Improvisatore," and unfairly attributed to him an infamous character and life ; but this account is purely fictitious, and is neither vero nor ben trovato. Beppo, like other distinguished per- sonages, is not without a history. The Romans say of him, " Era un Signore in paese stio,^^ — " He was a gentleman in his own country," — and this belief is borne out by a certain courtesy and style in his bearing which would not shame the first gentleman in the land. He was undoubtedly of a good family in the provinces, and came to Rome, while yet young, to seek his fortune. His crippled condition cut him off from any active employment, and he adopted the profession of a mendicant, as being the most lucra- BEGGARS— BEPPO. 41 tive and requiring the least exertion. Remembering Belisarius, he probably thought it not beneath his own dignity to ask for an obolus. Should he be above doing what a great general had done ? However this may be, he certainly became a mendicant, after changing his name, — and, steadily pursuing this profession for more than a quarter of a century, by dint of his fair words, his bland smiles, and his constant " Fa buon tcmpo^^ and " Fa cattivo tempo,'' which, together with his withered legs, were his sole stock in starting, he has finally amassed a very respectable little fortune. He is now about fifty-five years of age, has a wife and several children, and a few years ago, on the marriage of a daughter to a very respectable tradesman, he was able to give her what was considered in Rome a very respectable dowry. The other day, a friend of mine met a tradesman of his acquaintance running up the Spanish steps. " Where are you going in such haste ? " he inquired. '' To my banker." " To your banker ? but what banker is there above the steps ? " " Only Beppo," was the grave answer. " I want sixty scudi, and he can lend them to me without difficulty." " Really ? " " Of course. Co77ie vi pare ? " said the other, as he went on to his banker. Beppo hires his bank — which is the upper platform of the steps — of the government, at a small rent per a?inum ; and woe to any poor devil of his profession who dares to invade his premises ! Hither, every fair day, at about noon, he comes mounted on his donkey and accompanied by his valet, a little boy, who, though not lame exactly, wears a couple of crutches as a sort of livery, — and as soon as twilight begins to thicken and the sun is gone, he closes his bank (it is purely a bank of deposit), crawls up the steps, mounts a stone post, and there majestically waits for his valet to bring the donkey. But he no more solicits deposits. His day is done ; his bank is closed ; and from his post he looks around, with a patronizing superiority, upon the poorer members of his profession, who are soliciting, with small success, the various passers-by, as a king smiles down upon his subjects. The donkey 42 ROBA DI ROMA. being brought, he shuffles on to its crupper and makes a joyous and triumphant passage down through the streets of the city to his home. The bland business smile is gone. The wheedling subserviency of the day is over. The cunning eye opens largely. He is calm, dignified, and self-possessed. He mentions no more the state of the weather. " What's Hecuba to him," at this free moment of his return ? It is the large style in which all this is done that convinces me that Beppo was a " Signor in paese suoT He has a bank, and so had Prince Torlonia and Sir Francis Baring. But what of that ? He is a gentleman still. The robber knights and barons demanded toll of those who passed their castles, with violence and threats, and at the bloody point of their swords. Whoso passes Beppo's castle is prayed in courtesy to leave a remembrance, and receives the blandest bow and thanks in return. Shall we, then, say, the former are nobles and gentle- men, — the other is a miserable beggar ? Is it worse to ask than to seize ? Is it meaner to thank than to threaten ? If he who is supported by the public is a beggar, our kings are beggars, our pensions are charity. Did not the Princess Royal hold out her hand, the other day, to the House of Commons ? and does any one think the worse of her for it? We are all, in measure, beggars ; but Beppo, in the large style of kings and robber-barons, asks for his baiocco, and, like the merchant-princes, keeps his bank. I see dukes and noble guards in shining helmets, spurs, and gigantic boots, ride daily through the streets on horseback, and hurry to their palaces ; but Beppo, erectly mounted on his donkey, in his short jacket (for he disdains the tailored skirts of a fashion- able coat, though at times over his broad shoulders a great blue cloak is grandly thrown, after the manner of the ancient emperors), is far more impressive, far more princely, as he slowly and ma- jestically moves at nightfall towards his august abode. The shadows close around him as he passes along ; salutations greet him from the damp shops ; and darkness at last swallows up for a time the great square to7'so of the " King of the Beggars." Such is Beppo as he appears on the public 'change. His pri- vate life is involved somewhat in obscurity ; but glimpses have been had of him which indicate a grand spirit of hospitality, and BEGGARS— BEPPO ON THE TABLE. 43 condescension not unworthy of the best days of his ancestors, the Barons of the Middle Ages. Innominato, a short time since, was passing late at night along the district of the Monti, when his attention was attracted by an unusual noise and merry-making in one of its mean little ostcrie or bettole. The door was ajar, and peeping in he beheld a gallant company of roysterers of the same profession as Beppo, with porters, and gentlemen celebrated for lifting in other ways. They were gathered round a table, drinking merrily, and mounted in the centre of it, with his withered legs crooked under him, sat Baron Beppo, the high priest of the festive rites. It was his banquet, and he had been strictly scriptural in his invitations to all classes from the street. He was the Amphi- tryon who defrayed the cost of the wine, and acknowledged with a smile and a cheerful word the toasts of his guests ; and, when Innominato saw him, he was as " glorious " as Tam o' Shanter. He was not under the table, simply because he was on it ; and he had not lost his equilibrium, solely because he rested upon so broad a base. Planted like an oak, his legs figuring the roots, there he sat, while the jolly band of beggars and rascals were " rousing the night-owl with a catch," and the blood of the vine was freely flowing in their cups. The conversation was very idiomatic and gay, if not aristocratic, and Beppo's tongue wagged with the best. It was a most cheering spectacle. The old Barons used to sit above the salt, but Baron Beppo sat higher yet — or, rather, he reminded one of classic days, as, mounted there like a Bacchic Torso, he presided over the noisy rout of Silenus. Beppo has, however, fallen lately into disgrace. His break- fast had perhaps disagreed with him, perhaps he had " roused the night-owl" too late on the previous night, and perhaps his nerves were irritated by a bad scirocco ; but certain it is, that one unfortu- nate morning an English lady, to whom he applied for qiialche cosa, made some jocosely-intended answer to the effect that he was as rich as she, and alluded, it is said, to the dowry he had given his daughter — whereupon it became suddenly ^Uatiivo giorno " with Beppo, and he suffered himself to threaten her, and even, as some accounts go, to throw stones ; and the lady having 44 ROBA DI ROMA. reported him to the authorities, Beppo went into forced retire- ment for a time. I was made aware of this one day by finding his bank occupied by a new figure and face. Astonished at the audacity of this interloper, I stopped and said — " And Beppo, where is heV The jolly beggar then informed me, in a very high and rather" exulting voice (I am sorry to say), beginning with a sharp and prolonged eh — e-e-e-h, that the police had laid violent hands on Beppo, because he had maltreated an English lady, and that he ought to have known better, but come si fa ; and that for the present he was at San Michele. Beppo having repented, and it is to be hoped amended during his sojourn in that holy hospice, has now again made his appear- ance in the world. But during his absence the government has passed a new and salutary law, by which beggars are forbidden publicly to practise their profession, except upon the steps of the churches. There they may sit and extend their hand, and ask charity from those who are going to their prayers, but they may no longer annoy the pubhc, and specially strangers in the street. Beppo, therefore, keeps no more his bank on the steps of the Piazza di Spagna, but has removed it to those of the church of St. Agostino, where, at least for the present, he is open to the " receipt of custom." The words of the previous sentence are now, alas, no longer true. Since they were written and printed last, Beppo has passed away from among the living to join the great company, among which Lazarus is not the least. Vainly the eye of the stranger will seek him on the steps of the Piazza di Spagna, or on those of St. Agostino. The familiar figure has gone. The places which have known him will know him no more ; and of the large and noble company of mendicants in Rome, there is not one left who could fitly wear the mantle that has fallen from his shoulders. Lest the stranger should imagine that there are no more beggars to be met in Rome, let me hasten to assure him, that though they have " fallen, fallen, fallen, from their high estate " in the Eternal City, they still keep high carnival in the country towns. I must also add, that the government is kindly blind of BEGGARS— ABOUT GIVING. 45 one eye, even within the walls of the city itself, and that the law is to a large extent " more honor'd in the breach than the observ- ance." At frequent intervals you will still see persons to whom exceptional privileges arc granted on account of their personal merit, their just claims to charity, their age, or their misfortune. Those you may know by a great brass decoration, which they wear with as proud an assurance as a French general ; and it has this advantage over the ribbon of the Legion of Honour, that it is not so common. To all who wear it (and, be it also whispered, to many who do not wear it), give freely of your charity, — it will not be ill-bestowed. It is often a trying question whether or not to give to beggars. Speaking from a merely selfish point of view, I think it better to give ; for refusing a charity steels the heart, while giving tickles the sentiments, and you thus get a little spiritual relish, which, if it be a little Pharisaic of flavour, is, nevertheless, agree- able. What if the rogue do not stand in need of the charity, you have conferred a satisfaction on yourself at a very small outlay, and for a few minutes, at least, you walk with a prouder step. You have, at all events, nothing to lay to the score of conscience. Suppose, on the contrary, you refuse the little gift out of your superfluity, you have thereby laid for yourself a snare of remorse. You have dared, without knowledge or investigation of the real facts, to judge them, and declare the beggar a culprit. You can- not be sure that you have acted wisely or justly. You may have refused the cup of water, which is blessed. The beggar's piteous look and voice and outstretched hand will haunt you longer than you like, and a little annoying doubt will keep buzzing about in your mind, and hatch a brood of regrets. You will keep hoping that the beggar was not nearly so wretched as he looked ; or, perhaps, you are made of sterner stuff", and will console yourself with the proud thought, that by refusing a small private claim, you have done a great public good ; or that it is better to sacri- fice one poor man than to undermine the general interests of society ; or, professing a sound indignation for mendicancy, you will applaud yourself for thus obeying the dictates of duty instead of weakly yielding to a sentimental feeling of compassion. But 46 ROBA DI ROMA. if you find any sufficient consolation out of these husks, you are more fortunate than I have ever been. How many times have I had the weakness to go back and meekly offer the previously- denied penny. It is nothing, I argued, to me; it may be so much to him. I do not say it is ; but that " may be " cannot be silenced. General principles are very grand things in books, and capital themes for speeches ; but there are so many exceptions to them in life, and who shall say that the individual case is not an exception ? You may, indeed, hide poverty out of sight ; you may threaten with imprisonment the poor starving wretch that holds out his hand for the overplus of your abundance ; you may make all pro- per and white on the outside of society, by laws for the suppres- sion of mendicancy \ but after all, this will not cure the pain and suffering that gnaws its vitals, nor satisfy the absolute needs of the poor. If mendicancy be abolished, then it is the duty of society to see that there are none to whom this is the only means to escape starvation. It is undoubtedly unpleasant to be annoyed by a beggar in the street, but it is still more unpleasant to famish with hunger. Begging, in Rome, is as much a profession as praying and shopkeeping. Happy is he who is born deformed, with a withered limb, or to whom Fortune sends the present of a hideous accident or malady; it is a stock to set up trade upon. St. Vitus' s dance is worth its hundreds of sciidi annually ; epileptic fits are also a prize ; and a distorted leg and hare-lip have a con- siderable market value. Thenceforth the creature who has the luck to have them is absolved from labour. He stands or lies in the sun, or wanders through the Piazza, and sings his whining, lamentable strophe of, '^ Signo7'e, povero stroppiaio, datemi qualche cosa per amo?' di Dio ! " — and when the baiocco falls into his hat, like ripe fruit from the tree of the stranger, he chants the anti- strophe, '■'■Dio la benedica, la Madonna e iutti i santi!'^* No refusal but one does he recognize as final, — and that is given, not by word of mouth, but by elevating the fore-finger of the right * ** Signore, a poor cripple ; give me something, for the love of God ! " — " May God bless you, the Madonna, and all the saints ! " BEGGARS— THEIR SATIRE. 47 hand, and slowly wagging it to and fro. When this finger goes up he resigns all hope, as those who pass the gate of the Inferno, replaces his hat and lapses into silence, or turns away to some new group of sunny-haired foreigners. The recipe to avoid beggars is, to be black-haired, to wear a full beard, to smoke in the streets, speak only Italian, and shake the forefinger of the right hand when besieged for charity. Let it not be supposed from this that the Romans give nothing to the beggars, but pass them by on the other side. This is quite a mistake. On the con- trary, they give more than the foreigners ; and the poorest class, out of their litde, will always find something to drop into their hats for charity. Another recipe suggested to me by a friend years ago, and which I have known to prove effective in some cases, is solemnly to turn to the beggar, and slowly say ip-e-ca-cu- a-na. But this medicine should be administered rarely, or it will lose its effect ; and great care should be taken to preserve absolute gravity both of tone and demeanour. The ingenuity which the beggars sometimes display in asking for alms is often humoristic and satirical. Many a woman on the cold side of thirty is wheedled out of a baiocco by being addressed as Signorina. Many a half-suppressed exclamation of admiration, or a prefix of Bella, softens the hearts of those to whom com- pliments on their beauty come rarely. A great many baiocchi are also caught from green travellers of the middle class, by the titles which are lavishly squandered by these poor fellows. IllustrisswiOy Eccellenza, Altezza, will sometimes open the purse, when plain " Mosshoo " is ineffectual. After all, it is worth a penny even to a Republican, to be called Principe or Principessa. The profession of a beggar is by no means an unprofitable one. A great many drops finally make a stream. The cost of living is almost nothing to them, and they frequently lay up money enough to make themselves very comfortable in their old age. A Roman friend of mine, Conte C, speaking of them one day, told me this illustrative anecdote : — "I had occasion," he said, "a few years ago, to reduce my family," (the servants are called, in Rome, the family,) " and having no need of the services of one under-servant, named 48 ROB A DI ROMA. Pietro, I dismissed him. About a year after, as I was returning to my house, towards nightfall, I was solicited by a beggar, who whiningly asked me for chanty. There was something in the voice which struck me as familiar, and, turning round to examine the man more closely, I found it was my old servant, Pietro. ' Is that you, Pietro ? ' I said ; ' you, — begging here in the streets ! what has brought you to this wretched trade ? ' He gave me, however, no very clear account of himself, and evidently desired to avoid me when he recognized who I was. But, shocked to find him in so pitiable a condition, I pressed my questions, and finally told him I could not bear to see any one who had been in my household reduced to beggary ; and though I had no actual need of his services, yet, rather than see him thus, he might return to his old position as servant in my house, and be paid the same wages as he had before. He hesitated, was much embar- rassed, and, after a pause, said — ' A thousand thanks, your Excel- lency, for your kindness ; but I cannot accept your proposal, because, — to tell you the truth, — I make more money by this trade of begging.' " But though the beggars often lay by considerable sums of money, so that they might, if they chose, live with a certain degree of comfort, yet they cannot leave off the habit of begging after having indulged in it for many years. They get to be avaricious, and cannot bring their minds to spend the money they have. The other day, an old beggar, who used to frequent the steps of the Gesii, when about to die, ordered the hem of her garment to be ripped up, saying that there was money in it. In fact, about a thousand scudi were found there, three hundred of which she ordered to be laid out upon her funeral, and the remainder to be appropriated to masses for her soul. This was accordingly done, and her squalid life ended in a pompous pro- cession to the grave. The great holidays of the beggars are the country festas. Thronging out of the city, they spread along the highways, and drag, drive, roll, shuffle, hobble, as they can, towards the festive litde town. Everywhere along the road they are to be met, — perched on a rock, seated on a bank, squatted beneath a wall or BEGGARS— PERSISTENCE AND HUIJOUR. 49 hedge, and screaming, with outstretched hand, from the moment a carriage comes in sight until it is utterly passed by. As one approaches the town where the festa is held, they grow thicker and thicker. They crop up along the road like toadstools. They hold up every hideous kind of withered arm, distorted leg, and unsightly stump. They glare at you out of horrible eyes, that look like cranberries. You are requested to look at horrors, all without a name, and too terrible to be seen. All their accom- plishments are also brought out. They fall into improvised fits ; they shake with sudden palsies ; and all the while keep up a chorus, half-whine, half-screamj which suffers you to listen to nothing else. It is hopeless to attempt to buy them all off, for they are legion in number, and to pay one doubles the chorus of the others. The clever scamps, too, show the utmost skill in selecting their places of attack. Wherever there is a sudden rise in the road, or any obstacle which will reduce the gait of the horses to a walk, there is sure to be a beggar. But do not imagine that he relies on his own powers of scream and hideous- ness alone, — not he ! He has a friend, an ambassador, to recommend him to your notice, and to expatiate on his mis- fortunes. Though he himself can scarcely move, his friend, who is often a little ragged boy or girl, light of weight, and made for a chase, pursues the carriage and prolongs the whine, repeating, with a mechanical iteration, '■^ Signore! Signer e ! datemi qualche cosa, Signore /" until the phrase, after gradually degenerating to — Gno ! — gno ! dami — ca — ca — gno ! finally ceases — and the fellow's legs, breath, and resolution give out at last ; or, what is still commoner, your patience is wearied out or your sym- pathy touched, and you are glad to purchase the blessing of silence for the small sum of a baiocco. When his whining fails, he tries to amuse you ; and often resorts to the oddest freaks to attract your notice. Sometimes the little rascal flings himself heels over head into the dust, and executes somersets without number, as if they had some hidden influence on the sentiment of compassion. Then, running by the side of the carriage, he will play upon his lips with both hands, making a rattling noise, to excite your curiosity. If you laugh, you are lost, and he E 50 ROBA DI ROMA. knows it. But if you sternly resist all his entreaties, it some- times happens, if you have given him a hard run, that, despite his broken wind and tired legs, he will send after you a peculiar blessing in the shape of an "apoplexy," and throw a stone at your carriage, merely for luck, of course, as in other countries a shoe is thrown. As you reach the gates of the town, the row becomes furious. There are scores of beggars on either side of the road, screaming in chorus. No matter how far the town be from the city, there is not a wretched, maimed cripple of your acquaintance, not one of the old stumps who have dodged you round a Roman corner, not a ragged baron who has levied toll for passage through the public squares, a privileged robber who has shut up for you a pleasant street or waylaid you at an interesting church, but he is sure to be there. How they got there is as inexplicable as how the apples got into the dumplings in Peter Pindar's poem. But at the first ring of a festa^^ they start up from underground (those who are legless getting only half way up), like Rhoderick Dhu's men, and level their crutches at you as the others did their arrows. An English lady, a short time since, after wintering at Rome, went to take the baths of Lucca in the summer. On going out for a walk, on the first morning after her arrival, whom should she meet but King Beppo, whom she had just left in Rome ! He had come with the rest of the nobility for recreation and bathing, and of course had brought his profession with him. Owing to a variety of causes, the number of beggars in Rome is large. They grow here as noxious weeds in a hot-bed. The government neither fosters commerce nor stimulates industry. The policy of the Church everywhere is conservative, and this is specially the case in Rome, where the Church is the State. Founded on ancient ideas and dogmas, consolidated by long established forms and usages, its evident duty is to defend them and conserve them. It naturally opposes itself to all innovations. It distrusts and dislikes changes. Its aim is piety, submission, and obedience among the people, rather than prosperity in busi- ness and increase of trade. Its primary duties and interests are ecclesiastical, and to these all other duties and interests are BEGGARS— WORK OF GALLEY SLAVES. 51 seconda^}^ It restricts education and subjects literature to censorship through fear that the development of new ideas may lead to revolution or to atheism. This policy makes itself felt everywhere in Rome. If piety be developed by it, life and thought languish, trade stagnates, industry decays, and the people, ceasing to work and think, have grown indolent and supine. Poverty is a necessary consequence. The splendid robes of ecclesiastical Rome have a draggled fringe of beggary. But free and constitutional England can boast of no superiority in this respect, for though public begging is prohibited, it is none the less practised, and will be as long as poverty exists unprovided for. But in a country where mendicancy forms the rule of some of the con- ventual orders, and poverty is preached as a formula of religion and as a glory of the saints, neither poverty nor mendicancy is naturally looked upon as shameful — or demanding to be sup- pressed. One cannot, however, help speculating on the change which might be effected in Rome if the energies of the people could have a free scope. Industry is the true purification of a nation ; and as the fertile and luxuriant Campagna stagnates into malaria, because of its want of ventilation and movement, so does this grand and noble people. The government does what it can to remedy the evils which grow naturally out of its system ; but things go in a vicious circle. The people, kept at a stand-still, become idle and poor ; idleness and poverty en- gender vice and crime ; crime fills the prisons ; and the prisons afford a body of cheap slaves to the government. To-day, as I am writing, some hundreds of galley-slaves, in their striped brown uniforms, are tugging at their winches and ropes to drag the column of the Immaculate Virgin to its pedestal on the Piazza di Spagna. ^y the same system of compulsory labour, the government, despite its limited financial resources, is enabled to carry out public projects which, with well-paid work- men, would be too expensive to be feasible. In this manner, for instance, for an incredibly small sum, was built the magnificent viaduct which spans with its triple tier of arches the beautiful Val di L'Arriccia. But, for my own part, I cannot look upon this system as being other than very bad, in every respect. And 52 ROBA DI ROMA. when, examining into the prisons themselves, I find that the support of these poor criminal slaves is farmed out by the government to some responsible person at the lowest rate that is offered, generally for some ten baiocchi apiece per diem, and often refarmed by him at a still lower rate, until the poor wretches are reduced to the very minimum of necessary food as to quantity and quality, I confess that I cannot look with pleasure on the noble viaduct at L'Arriccia, or the costly column to the Imma- culate Virgin, erected by the labour of their hands. The government, conscious of the reproach which the great number of beggars in Rome seems to cast upon Rome, have made repeated efforts to employ them beneficially. Hundreds of them were at one time hired to excavate in the Forum and the Baths of Caracalla, at the rate of a few baiocchi a day. But never was such a wretched, decrepit, broken-down set of labourers seen gathered together. Falstaff's ragged regiment was a powerful and mighty body compared with them. They bore the same relation to an able-bodied workman that the ruins in which they excavated bear to a thoroughly constructed house. They were ruins themselves, working among ruins ; and it would be difficult to say whether the spectacle were most sad — or most ludicrous. Each had a wheelbarrow, a spade, or pick, and a cloak ; but the last was the most important part of their equipment. Some of them picked at the earth with a gravity that was equalled only by the feeble- ness of the effort and the poverty of the result. Three strokes so wearied them that they were forced to pause and gather strength, while others carried away the ant-hills which the first dug up. It seemed an endless task to fill the wheelbarrows. Fill, did I say? They were never filled. After a bucketful of earth had been slowly shovelled in, the labourer paused, laid down his spade carefully on the little heap, sighed profoundly, looked as if to receive congratulations on his enormous success, then flinging, with a grand sweep, the tattered old cloak over his left shoulder, lifted his wheelbarrow-shafts with dignity, and marched slowly and measuredly forward towards the heap of deposit, as Belisarius might have moved at a funeral in the intervals of asking for oboli. But reduced gentlemen, who have been accustomed to carry BEGGARS— PUBLIC CHARITIES IN ROME. 53 round the hat as an occupation, always have a certain air of condescension when they work for pay, and, by their dignity of deportment, make you sensible of their former superior state. Occasionally, in case a forestiere was near, the older, idler, and more gentlemanlike profession would be resumed for a moment (as by parenthesis), and if without success, a sadder dignity would be seen in the subsequent march. Very properly for persons who had been reduced from beggary to work, they seemed to be anxious both for their health and their appearance in public, and accordingly a vast deal more time was spent in the arrangement of the cloak than in any other part of the business. It was grand in effect, to see these figures, incumbered in their heavy draperies, guiding their wheelbarrows through the great arches of Cara- calla's Baths, or along the Via Sacra ; and determined to show, that in despite of fortune they were still the gens togata. It would, however, be a grievous mistake to suppose that all the beggars in the streets of Rome are Romans. In point of fact, the greater number are strangers, who congregate in Rome during the winter from every quarter. Naples sends them in by thousands. Every little country town of the Abruzzi Mountains yields its contribution. From north, south, east, and west they flock here as to a centre where good pickings may be had of the crumbs that fall from the rich men's tables. In the summer season they return to their homes with their earnings, and not one in five of those who haunted the churches and streets in the winter is to be seen in June. It is but justice to the Roman government to say that its charities are very large. If, on the one hand, it does not en- courage commerce and industry, on the other, it liberally provides for the poor. In proportion to its means, no government does more, if so much. Every church has its poor-box i^Cassa dei Poveri). Numerous societies, such as the Saccom, and other con- fraternities, employ themselves in accumulating contributions for the relief of the poor and wretched. Well-endowed hospitals exist for the care of the sick and unfortunate ; and there are various establishments for the charge and education of poor orphans. A few figures will shew how ample are these charities. The revenue 54 ROBA DI ROMA. of these institutions is no less than eight hundred and forty thousand scudi annually, of which three hundred thousand are contributed by the Papal treasury, forty thousand of which are a tax upon the Lottery. The hospitals, altogether, accommodate about four thousand five hundred patients, the average number annually received amounting to about twelve thousand ; and the foundling hospitals alone are capable of receiving upwards of three thousand children annually. Besides the hospitals for the sick, there is also a hospital for poor convalescents at Sta. Trinitk dei Pellegrini, a lunatic asylum containing about four hundred patients, one for incurables at San Giacomo, a lying-in hospital at San Rocco, and a hospital of education and industry at San Michele. There are also thirteen societies for bestowing dowries on poor young girls on their marriage ; and from the public purse, for the same object, are expended every year no less than thirty-two thousand scudi. In addition to these charities are the sums collected and administered by the various confraternities, as well as the sum of one hundred and seventy-two thousand scudi distributed to the poor by the commission of subsidies. But though so much money is thus expended, it cannot be said that it is well administered. The proportion of deaths at the hospitals is very large ; and among the foundlings, it amounted, between the years 1829 and 1833, to no less than seventy-two per cent. The paupers of Rome, embracing those who live by mendicancy, or who are provided for by private charity, or are sheltered and cared for in the public Hospices, are reckoned to amount, in the city itself, to 2012, thus constituting the proportion of i pauper to every 102 inhabitants, which is certainly very small compared with that of Paris, where it is about i to 19, or of London, where it is about i to 16. While the proportion of paupers is smaller in Rome, the subsidies of their support are much greater, and a case of death from actual famine, such as occurs so frequently in London, is absolutely unknown. Despite the enormous sums expended in charity, there is much poverty and suffering among the lower classes in Rome. No one certainly need ever die of hunger, if he be willing to live on BEGGARS— THE POOR AND THEIR PATIENCE. 55 public charity. But a natural pride prevents many from availing themselves of this ; and there is a large class, which barely struggles along, enduring great privations, living in the most miserable manner, and glad in any way to earn an honest penny. The beggars are by no means the greatest sufferers, though, heaven knows, many of them are wretched enough. These poor classes live generally on the ground floor, gregariously crowded into damp and unwholesome rooms. You may peep into their dark and dismal caves as you pass along the street. The broken and uneven floors are paved with brick and clammy with mois- ture, the walls damp and stained with great blotches of saltpetre, the rafters of the ceilings brown with age and smoke, the furni- ture shabby, rickety, and consisting of a rude chest of drawers, a few broken-down chairs, a table, and a large high bed of corn-leaves, mounted upon trestles, which stands in the corner covered with a white quilt. Yet no place is so mean as to be without its tawdry picture of the Madonna, and out of the smallest means a sum is squeezed enough to feed with oil the slender, crusted wick of the onion-shaped lamp, which sheds upon it a thick, dull, yellow point of feeble flame. In the winter these rooms are cold, unwholesome, rheumatic, and reek with moisture. There, in the rainy season, the old women crouch over their little earthenware pot of coals {scaldino), warming their shrivelled, veiny hands, or place it under their dress to warm their ill-fed bodies. Yet despite their poverty and sufferings they are not a com- plaining people, and there is something touching in their resigna- tion, their constant reference to the Madonna, and their invariable refrain of " Pazienza^ If you give them a baiocco they are very grateful, and at once pray to the Madonna to bless you, for it is she who has prompted the gift and she who will reward it. Yet the climate is kindly, and the weeks of cold and ^in are few, and when the sun shines and the air is mild, you will see them all sitting outside their doors in the street, which is their saloon, chatting gaily, screaming across to their neighbours, and some- times bursting into wild Campagna songs. Some of them earn a slender pittance by keeping a little stall of roasted chestnuts, and apples, and pine-cones, over which at times is spread a coarse 56 ROBA DI ROMA. canvas supported by three or four poles, sometimes to keep the wind off and sometimes to shelter them from the sun. Not all, however, can afford this luxury — one must be rather up in the world for that. The love days have gone by ; but there is often seen hovering about one of these old women the remains of the ''bel giovane'' who won her heart and hand, in a tall battered white hat, a short jacket, a waistcoat patched with old and new colours, and long blue stockings on his bent legs, who now plays second fiddle and fusses about the little establishment, rearrang- ing the humble wares with tremulous hands, and looking round for customers, and indulging in chat about the weather and the times. She meanwhile sits calmly there with her scaldino^ the master-spirit, who rules and decides all. But to return to the beggars. At many of the convents in Rome, it is the custom at noon to distribute, gratis, at the door, a quantity of soup, and any poor person may receive a bowlful on demand. Many of the beggars thus become pensioners of the convents, and may be seen daily at the appointed hour gathering round the door with their bowl and wooden spoon, in expectation of the Frate with the soup. This is generally made so thick with cabbage that it might be called a cabbage-stew; but Soyer him- self never made a dish more acceptable to the palate of the guests than this. No nightingales' tongues at a banquet of Tiberius, no edible birds'-nests at a Chinese feast, were ever relished with more gusto. I have often counted at the gates of the Convent of Capuchins, in the Via S. Basilio, from eighty to one hundred of these poor wretches, some stretched at length on the pavement, some gathered in groups under the shadow of the garden wall or on the steps of the studios, and discussing politics, Austria, France, Italy, Louis Napoleon and Garibaldi, while they waited for their daily i#eal. When the bells ring for mid-day, the gates are opened and the crowd pours in ; and then, with their hats off, you may see them gathered round the cauldron, from which a burly Capuchin ladles out soup into their wooden platters, after they have all repeated after him their "pater noster." The figures and actions of these poor wretches, after they have ob- tained their soup, make one sigh for human nature. Each, BEGGARS— FRANCISCANS AND CAPUCHINS. 57 grasping his portion as if it were a treasure, separates himself immediately from his brothers, flees selfishly to a corner, if he can find one empty, or, if not, goes to a distance, turns his back on his friends, and, glancing anxiously at intervals all around, as if in fear of a surprise, gobbles up his cabbage, wipes out his bowl, and then returns to companionship or dis- appears. The idea of sharing his portion with those who are portionless occurs to him only as the idea of a robber to the mind of a miser. Any account of the beggars of Rome without mention of the Capuchins and Franciscans would be like performing the " Mer- chant of Venice " with no Shylock ; for these orders are founded in beggary and supported by charity. The priests do not beg ; but their ambassadors, the lay brothers, clad in their long brown serge, a cord around their waist, and a basket on their arm, may be seen shuffling along at any hour and in every street, in dirty, sandalled feet, to levy contributions from shops and houses. Here they get a loaf of bread, there a pound of flour or rice, in one place fruit or cheese, in another a bit of meat, until their basket is filled. Sometimes money is given, but generally they are paid in articles of food. There is another set of these brothers, who enter your studio, or ring at your bell, and present a little tin box with a slit in it, into which you are requested to drop any sum you please, for the holidays, for masses, for wax candles, &c. As a big piece of copper makes more ring than gold, it is generally given, and always gratefully received. Some- times they will enter into conversation, and are always pleased to have a little chat about the weather. They are very poor, very good-natured, and very dirty. It is a pity they do not baptize themselves a little more with the material water of this world. But they seem to have a hydrophobia. Whatever the inside of the platter may be, the outside is far from clean. They walk by day and they sleep by night in the same old snuffy robe, which is not kept from contact with the skin by any luxury of linen, until it is worn out. Dirt and piety seem to them synonymous. In disbelieving moments, I cannot help applying to them Charles Lamb's famous speech to Martiji Burney, — " If dirt were trumps, 58 ROBA DI ROMA. what a hand they would have of it ! " * Yet, beggars as they are, by faith and profession, they have the reputation at Rome of being the most inoffensive of all the conventual orders, and are looked upon by the common people with kindliness, as being thoroughly sincere in their religious professions. They are at least consistent in many respects in their professions and prac- tice. They really mortify the flesh by penance, fasting, and wretched fare, as well as by dirt. They do not proclaim the virtues and charms of poverty, while they roll about in gilded coaches, dressed in "purple and fine linen," or gloat over the luxuries of the table. Their vices are not the cardinal ones, whatever their virtues may be. The " Miracles of St. Peter," as the common people call the palaces of Rom.e, are not wrought for them. Their table is mean and scantily provided with the most ordinary food. Three days in the week they eat no meat ; and during the year they keep three Qiiaresime. But, good as they are, their sour, thin wine, on empty, craving stomachs, sometimes does a mad work; and these brothers in dirt and piety have occasionally violent rows and disputes in their refectories over their earthen bottles. It is only a short time since that my old friends the Capuchins got furious together over their wine, and ended by knocking each other about the ears with their earthen jars, after they had emptied them. Several were wounded and had time to repent and wash in their cells. But one should not be too hard on them. The temper will not withstand too much fasting. A good dinner puts one at peace with the world, but an empty stomach is the habitation often of the Devil, who amuses himself there with pulling all the nerve-wires that reach up into the brain. I doubt whether even St. Simeon Stylites always kept his temper as well as he did his fast. * This saying, however, though popularly credited to Charles Lamb, attri- buted to him by his biographers, and recently repeated by Mr. Proctor (Barry Cornwall) in his very interesting "Reminiscences of Lamb," would appear not to belong to him, if we are to trust the statement of a late writer in " Macmil- lan's Magazine." He says that it was " made by a gentleman who" never uttered a second witticism in the whole course of his life, and who thought it a little hard to be robbed of this unique achievement. The real person, we have understood, was the father of the present Mr. Commissioner Ayrton. " BEGGARS-CArUCHINSJN THE GARDEN. 59 As I see them walking up and down the alleys of their vege- table-garden, and under the sunny wall where, without the least asceticism, oranges glow and roses bloom during the whole winter, I do not believe in their doctrine, nor envy them their life. And I cannot but think that the thousands of frati who are in the Roman States would do quite as good service to God and man, if they were an army of labourers on the Campagna, or else- where, as in their present life of beggaiy and self-contemplation. I often wonder, as I look at them, hearty and stout as they are, despite their mode of life, what brought them to this pass, what induced them to enter this order, — and recall, in this connection, a little anecdote current here in Rome, to the following effect : — A young fellow, from whom Fortune had withheld her gifts, having become desperate, at last declared to a friend that he meant to throw himself into the Tiber, and end a life which was worse than useless. "No, no," said his friend, "don't do that. If your affairs are so desperate, retire into a convent ; become a Capuchin." "-Ah, no!''' was the indignant answer; "I am desperate ; but I have not yet arrived at such a pitch of despe- ration as that." Though the Franciscans live upon charity, they have almost always a garden connected with their convent, where they raise multitudes of cabbages, cauliflowers, fennel, peas, beans, arti- chokes, and lettuce. Indeed," there is one kind of the latter which is named after them, — capuccini. But their gardens they do not till themselves ; they hire gardeners, who work for them. Now, I cannot but think that working in a garden is just as pious an employment as begging about the streets, though, perhaps, scarcely as profitable. The opinion that, in some respects, it would be better for them to attend to this work themselves, was forced upon my mind by a little farce I happened to see enacted among their cabbages, the other day as I was looking down out of my window. My attention was first attracted by hearing a window open from a little three-story-high loggia, opposite, hanging over their garden. A woman came forth, and, from amid the flower- pots, which half concealed her, she dropped a long cord to the ground. ^^ Fst, Est,'' she cried to the gardener at work below. 6o ROBA DI ROMA. He looked up, executed a curious pantomime, shrugged his shoulders, shook his fore-finger, and motioned with his head and elbow sideways to a figure, visible to me, but not to her, of a brown Franciscan, who was amusing himself in gathering some fennel, just round the corner of the wall. The woman, who was fishing for the cabbages, immediately understood the predicament, drew up her cord, disappeared from the loggia, and the curtain fell upon the little farce. The gardener, however, evidently had a little soliloquy after she had gone. He ceased working, and gazed at the unconscious Franciscan for some time, with a curious grimace, as if he were not quite satisfied at thus losing his little perquisite. And here, perhaps, a short account of the Capuchins may not be out of place or without interest. The head-quarters of the Capuchins throughout the world is the Convent of Santa Maria della Concezione, close by the Piazza Barberini, and here reside the general of the order and his staff. The convent is very large, having no less than six hundred cells ; but all of these are rarely if ever occupied. The Famiglia proper, by which term is meant the friars, both lay and clerical, belonging to it, number about one hundred and twenty ; but as it is the chief house of all the provinces of Rome, the general hospital for sick and infirm is here, and there are always a certain number of friars in it who do not belong to the convent. To this must be added the visitors from all parts of the world, who come on ecclesiastical business, and for other reasons; and with these additions the number of persons in the convent does not generally vary much from about two hundred persons. The padri or priests are many of them well-educated men, as far as Latin and theo- logy go, and they devote the chief part of their time to prayer and saying mass, giving the remainder, which is not much, to study. The lay brothers are completely illiterate, and their occupation is to beg alms in the streets, to sweep the cells, cook the dinner, serve at table, and perform the menial duties of the convent. They also pretend to cultivate the garden, but they do this chiefly by proxy, " assisting," for the most part, in a purely French sense. BEGGARS— LIFE OF CAPUCHINS. 6i The cells in which they live are only about six feet by ten in size ; they are paved with brick, and, instead of glass, they have linen cloth in their windows. Their furniture is a crucifix, a bed or pallet, a vase of holy water, and some coarse print of a saint or two. They have no sheets upon their beds, but only blankets ; and they do not undress, but sleep in their monastic dresses, which are renewed once in three years. They wear no linen underclothes, and, unless their health requires it, no stockings ; and the result as to cleanliness may be easily imagined. Connected with the convent is a factory, where the cloth, worn by the Capuchins throughout the Romagna, is woven, and where the leathern sandals are fashioned. But even in this, secular labour is called in, the friars having a certain unwillingness to do any labour. Pieces of cloth, already cut into the appropriate form, are distributed among the community once in three years, and each sews it up for himself. Their life is by no means an enviable one. Their fare is very meagre, and their religious duties constant. Their day com- mences at midnight, when they are all roused from their beds by a sort of rattle of wood and iron, called a " troccolo,'' and by the sharp clang of the church bell, to say matins in the choir of the church. The scene here is then said to be very picturesque. A single oil lamp burning over the reading-desk is the sole light in the church. There stands the officiating priest, and reads the collects and lessons of the day, while the others gather in the shadow, and chant their hymns and responses in hoarse bass voices, that echo through the vaulted choir. At the end of the matins the bell begins to toll, and the solemn Te Deum is sung, after which, without speaking, all return to their narrow cells. Sometimes, in the cold winter nights, sitting alone in a warm room, with all the comforts of life and warmth about me, as I hear the convent bell ringing at mid- night, and know that at its sound every one of the Capuchins, whether he be old, rheumatic, and weary, or not, must rise from his bed to go into that cold, cheerless chapel, and say his matins, my heart is touched with pity for them. But I hope habit makes it easier to them than it would be to me, and, at 62 ROBA DI ROMA. all events, the evil is mitigated by the fact that they do not have to dress. At six o'clock in the morning the bell rings them to mass, and from this time forward the chief portion of the day is devoted to religious exercises; for what with masses, and hearing confes- sions, and accompanying funerals, and the canonical hours, and vespers, nocturns, and complines, little time can remain for any- thing else. One of their exercises, which they have in common with the Quakers, is that of silent meditation, which takes place in the morning, and at twilight, when the friars all meet and com- mune silently with themselves. On these occasions the blinds are closed so as to shut out the light, and here they remain without speaking for a half-hour. What they think about then, they alone know. Of course the lay brothers are not held very strictly to the religious exercises, or it would be scarcely possible for them to perform all their other functions. These brown-cowled gentlemen are not the only ones who carry the tin box. Along the kerbstones of the public walks, and on the steps of the churches, sit blind old creatures, who shake at you a tin box, outside of which is a figure of the Madonna, and inside of which are two or three baiocchi^ as a rattling accompani- ment to an unending invocation of aid. Their dismal chant is protracted for hours and hours, increasing in loudness whenever the steps of a passer-by are heard. It is the old strophe and antistrophe of begging and blessing, and the singers are so wretched that one is often softened into charity. Those who are not blind have often a new almanac to sell towards the end of the year, and at other times they vary the occupation of shaking the box by selling lives of the saints, which are sometimes wonderful enough. One sad old woman, who sits near the Quattro Fontane, and says her prayers and rattles her box, always touches my heart, there is such an air of forlornness and sweetness about her. As I was returning, last night, from a mass at San Giovanni in Laterano, an old man glared at us through great green goggles, — to which those of the "green-eyed monster" would have yielded in size and colour, — and shook his box for a baiocco. " And where does this money go ? " I asked. " To say masses for the souls of those who BEGGARS— THE SACCONI. 63 die over opposite," said he, pointing to the Hospital of San Giovanni, through the open doors of which we could see the patients lying in their beds. Nor are these the only friends of the box. Often in walking the streets one is suddenly shaken in your ear, and turning round you are startled to see a figure entirely clothed in white from head to foot, a rope round his waist, and a white hood drawn over his head and face, and showing, through two round holes, a pair of sharp black eyes behind them. He says nothing, but shakes his box at you, often threateningly, and always with an air of mystery. This is a penitent SaccoJie ; and as this confraternita is composed chiefly of noblemen, he may be one of the first princes or cardinals in Rome, performing penance in expiation of his sins ; or, for all you can see, it may be one of your intimate friends. The money thus collected goes to various charities. The Sacconi always go in couples, — one taking one side of the street, the other the opposite, — never losing sight of each other, and never speaking. Clothed thus in secrecy, they can test the generosity of any one they meet with complete impunity, and they often amuse themselves with startling foreigners. Many a group of English girls, convoyed by their mother, and staring into some mosaic or cameo shop, is scared into a scream by the sudden jingle of the box, and the apparition of the spectre in white who shakes it. And many a simple old lady retains to the end of her life a confused impres- sion, derived therefrom, of inquisitions, stilettos, tortures, and banditti, from which it is vain to attempt to dispossess her mind. The stout old gentleman, with a bald forehead and an irascibly rosy face, takes it often in another way, — confounds the fellows for their impertinence, has serious notions, first, of knocking them down on the spot, and then of calling the police, but finally de- termines to take no notice of them, as they are nothing but foreigners, who cannot be expected to know how to behave them- selves in a rational manner. Sometimes a holy charity {santa elemosind) is demanded after the oddest fashion. It was only yes- terday that I met one of the confraternities, dressed in a shabby red suit, coming up the street, with the invariable oblong tin begging-box in his hand, — a picture of Christ on one side, and of 64 ROBA DI ROMA. the Madonna on the other. He went straight to a door opening into a large, dark room, where there was a full cistern of running water, at which several poor women were washing clothes, and singing and chattering as they worked. My red acquaintance sud- denly opens the door, letting in a stream of Hght upon this Rem- brandtish interior, and lifting his box with the most wheedling of smiles, he says, with a rising inflection of voice, as if asking a question, ^^ Frezwso smigue di Gesu Crtsto?^^ — (Precious blood of Jesus Christ ?) Others of these disguised gentlemen of the begging-box sit at the corners of the streets or on the steps of the churches, or wander about, entering everywhere the shops, to collect sums for prisoners, and among these are often gentlemen of good family and fortune ; others carry with them a sack, in which they receive alms in kind for the same purpose. The Romans are a charitable people, and they always give liberally of their store. In the Piazza della Rotonda and the Piazza Navona you will see these brethren of the sack begging of the fruiterers and hucksters ;.and few there are who refuse to add their little for the poor prisoners. As soon as they are told that the charity is for them, they drop into the sack a wedge of cheese, a couple oi pi-ovaiwe^ a handful of rice, a loaf of bread, two or three oranges, apples, pears, or potatoes, or a good slice of polenta, saying, " Eh^ povei'acci, Dio li cotisoU, pigUate^^^ (ah, poor creatures, may God help them ! take these) ; — for you must remember a prisoner does not always mean a criminal in Rome. Sometimes into the box drops the last baiocco of some poor fellow, who as he gives it, says, in Trastevere dialect — " Voi che siete un religioso di Dio, fateme bused ^7t th'neito, che pozza paga la pigioney — ;Give me a winning terno in the lottery, to pay my rent. There is another species of begging and extortion practised in Rome which deserves notice in this connection. Besides the per- petual hand held out by the mendicants in the street, there are festivals and ceremonials where the people demand as of right certain vails and presents called mancie and p?'opine. The largesse which in old times used to be scattered by the Emperors who came to Rome to be crowned in St. Peter's is still given, after a degene- rate way, upon the coronation of a Pope. Formerly it was the BEGGARS— VAILS AND FEES. 65 custom for the Pope to proceed to the church on horseback, his ahuoner following after him with two sacks of money in gold, silver, and copper, which he scattered among the crowds accom- panying the Papal procession. But an accident having happened at the installation of Clement XIV., the Pope has ever since driven in a triumphal carriage ; and the largesse is now distributed by his almoner in the Cortile del Belvedere, where the proud inhabitants of the Borgo and Trastevere do not disdain to hold out their hands as they pass before him for the little sum of money which the Holy Father still gives to his faithful children on this august occasion — nay, more, they claim it as a right. In like manner, on the beatification of a saint, all the intendants, secretaries, agents, and servants of every kind are entitled to a fnanda; and so firmly established is this custom, that a specific time and place is appointed where they present themselves, and each receives his vail sealed up in an envelope of paper, and ad- dressed to him by name. Whenever a Cardinal is made Pope, by old custom all his clothes and furniture become the spoil of his servants. And as soon as the report of his election by the Conclave runs through the city, his apartments are at once sacked by them. Sometimes the report proves false, and the irritated Cardinal, whose ambitious hopes have crumbled into vexation, returning home, finds his luxurious rooms turned topsy-turvy, and not even a change of dress in his wardrobe. The first meeting of servants and master on such an occasion is agreeable to neither party ; and it is not to be won- dered at, if the name of the Lord is sometimes taken in vain, and " apoplexies " are showered about in profusion. Many of the servants of the princely houses and in the palaces of the Cardinals receive no wages, the maficky which by time- honoured custom they are entitled to claim of visitors, affording an ample compensation. Indeed, in some houses, there are servants who pay for the privilege of serving there, their mancie far exceed- ing the fair rate of their wages. Some of these vails are expected, on Christmas and New Years-day; but besides these there are other stated occasions when the frequenters of the house are ex- pected to give presents. If these seem to the servant insufficient F 66 ROBA DI ROMA. in amount, they sometimes go so far as plainly to express their views and scornfully to say, ^^ Signore, mi si viene de piu ; questa non ^ la mistira della propina di sala." — I am entitled to more — just as if they had presented a bill which you had refused to pay. Padre Bresciani relates a good story apropos to these mancic, which he says occurred to some of his friends and himself. They had requested a deacon of their acquaintance to give them a letter to the custode of a certain palace in order that they might see some beautiful pictures there. With much courtesy the request was granted, and the little company drove at once to the palace, and presented the letter to the custode, a tall fellow of about thirty years of age. He took the letter, opened it, and after fumbling a little in his pockets for something, turned round to one of them, and said, " Excuse me, I have not my spectacles : would your Excellency have the goodness to read this for me ? " The gentleman appealed to then read as follows : " Vi raccom- mando sommamente questi nobilissimi Signori, mostrate loro tutte le raritd, del palazzo, ben intesi, accettando le vosire propi?2e.^^ — " I warmly recommend to you these most distinguished gentlemen : show them all the choice things in the palace, — accepting, of course, your present for so doing." The clever custode, imagining that these gentlemen might con- sider that the letter rendered the mancia unnecessaiy, resorted to this trick to let them see that neither the deacon nor himself in- tended to dispense with it The last, but by no means the meanest, of the tribe of pen- sioners whom I shall mention, is my old friend, " Beefsteak," — now, alas ! gone to the shades of his fathers. He was a good dog, — a mongrel, a Pole by birth, — who accompanied his master on a visit to Rome, where he became so enamoured of the place that he could not be persuaded to return to his native home. Bravely he cast himself on the world, determined to live, like many of his two-legged countrymen, upon his wits. He was a dog of genius, and his confidence in the world was rewarded by its appreciation. He had a sympathy for the arts. The crowd of artists who daily and nightly flocked to the Lepre and the Caffe Greco attracted his notice. He introduced himself to them, and BEGGARS— ''BEEFS! EAKr 67 visited them at their studios and rooms. A friendsliip was struck between them and him, and he became their constant visitor and their most attached ally. Every day, at the hour of lunch, or at the more serious hour of dinner, he lounged into the Lepre, seated himself in a chair, and awaited his friends, confident of his recep- tion. His presence was always hailed with a welcome, and to every new comer he was formally presented. His bearing be- came, at last, not only assured, but patronizing. He received the gift ot a chicken-bone or a delicate titbit as if he conferred a favour. He became an epicure, a gourmet. He did not eat much ; he ate well. With what a calm superiority and gentle contempt he declined the refuse bits a stranger offered from his plate ! His glance, and upturned nose, and quiet refusal, seemed to say, — " Ignoramus ! know you not I am Beefsteak .? " His dinner finished, he descended gravely and proceeded to the Caffe Greco, there to listen to the discussions of the artists, and to partake of a little coifee and sugar, of which he was very fond. At night he accompanied some one or other of his friends to his room, and slept upon the rug. He knew his friends, and valued them ; but perhaps his most remarkable quality was his impartiality. He dispensed his favours with an even hand. He had few favourites, and called no man master. He never outstayed his welcome " and told the jest without the smile," never remaining with one person for more than two or three days at most. A calmer cha- racter, a more balanced judgment, a better temper, a more ad- mirable self-respect, — in a word, a profounder sense of what belongs to a gentleman, was never known in any dog. But Beefsteak is now no more. Just after the agitations of the Revolution of '48, with which he had little sympathy, — he was a conservative by dis- position, — he disappeared. He had always been accustomed to make a villeggiatura at L'Arriccia during a portion of the summer months, returning only now and them to look after his affairs in Rome. On such visits he would often arrive towards midnight, and rap at the door of a friend to claim his hospitality, barking a most intelligible answer to the universal Roman inquiry, " Chi }?" *' One morn we missed him at the accustomed " place, and thence- forth he was never seen. Whether a sudden home-sickness for his 68 ROBA DI ROMA. native land overcame him, or a fatal accident befell him, is not known. Peace to his manes ! There " rests his head upon the lap of earth " no better dog. In the Roman studio of one of his friends and admirers, Mr. Mason, I had the pleasure, a short time since, to see, among several admirable and spirited pictures of Campagna life and inci- dents, a very striking portrait of Beefsteak. He was sitting in a straw-bottomed chair, as we have so often seen him in the Lepre, calm, dignified in his deportment, and somewhat obese. The full brain, the narrow, fastidious nose, the sagacious eye, were so perfectly given, that I seemed to feel the actual presence of my old friend. So admirable a portrait of so distinguished a person should not be lost to the world. It should be engraved, or at least photographed. CHAPTER IV. CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. The Christmas Holidays have come, and with them various customs and celebrations quite peculiar to Rome. They are ushered in by the festive clang of a thousand bells from all the belfries in Rome at Ave Maria of the evening before the august day. At about nine o'clock of the same evening the Pope per- forms High Mass in some one of the great churches, generally at Santa Maria Maggiore, when the pillars of this fine old basilica are draped with red hangings, and scores of candles burn in the side-chapels, and the great altar blazes with light. The fuguing chants of the Papal choir sound into the dome and down the aisles, while the Holy Father ministers at the altar, and a motley crowd parade and jostle and saunter through the church. Here, mingled together, may be seen soldiers of the Swiss guard, with their shining helmets, long halberds, and parti-coloured uniforms, designed by Michael Angelo, — chamberlains of the Pope, all in black, with high ruffs, Spanish cloaks, silken stockings, and golden chains, — peasants from the mountains, in rich-coloured costumes and white tovaglie, — common labourers from the Campagna, with black mops of tangled hair, — foreigners of every nation, — English- men, with sloping shoulders, long, light, pendant whiskers, and an eye-glass stuck in one eye, — Germans, with spectacles, frogged coats, and long straight hair put behind their ears and cut square in the neck, — Americans, in high-heeled patent-leather boots, shabby black dress-coats, black satin waistcoats, and beards shaved only from the upper lip, — and wasp-waisted French officers, with baggy trousers, goat-beards, and a pretentious swagger. Nearer the altar are crowded together in pens a mass of women in black dresses 70 ROBA DI ROMA. and black veils, who are determined to see and hear all, treating the ceremony purely as a spectacle, and not as a religious rite. Meantime the music soars, the organ groans, the censer clicks, and steams of incense float to and fro. The Pope and his attendants kneel and rise, — he lifts the Host and the world prostrates itself. A great procession of dignitaries with torches bears a fragment of the original cradle of the Holy Bambino from its chapel to the high altar through the swaying crowd that gape, gaze, stare, sneer, and adore. And thus the evening passes. When the clock strikes midnight all the bells ring merrily, Mass commences at the princi- pal churches, and at San Luigi dei Francesi and the Gesu there is a great illumination (what the French call un joli spectacle) and very good music. Thus Christmas is ushered in at Rome. The next day is a great festival. All classes are dressed in their best and go to Mass, — and when that is over, they throng the streets to chat and lounge and laugh and look at each other. The Corso is so crowded in the morning, that a carriage can scarcely pass. Everywhere one hears the pleasant greeting of ^^Btwna Festa!' '■^Buo7ia Pasquay All the basso popolo, too, are out, — the women wearing their best jewelleiy, heavy gold ear-rings, three rowed collane of well-worn coral and gold, long silver and gold pins and arrows in their hair, and great worked brooches with pendants, — and the men of the Trastevere in their peaked hats, their short jackets swung over one shoulder in humble imitation of the Spanish cloak, and rich scarfs tied round their waists. Most of the ordinary cries of the day are missed. But the constant song of ''^Ai-ancie! arancie dolci T'' (oranges, sweet oranges) is heard in the crowd ; and everywhere the cigar-sellers are carrying round their wooden tray of tobacco, and shouting, ^^ Sigari f sigari dolci ! sigari scelti / " at the top of their lungs ; the nocellaro also cries sadly out his dry chestnuts and pumpkin-seeds. The shops are all closed, and the shopkeepers and clerks saunter up and down the streets, dressed better than the same class anjrwhere else in the world, — looking spick-and-span, as if they had just come out of a bandbox, and nearly all of them carrying a little cane. One cannot but be struck by the difference in this respect between the Romans on difestaAdiy in the Corso and the Parisians during CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 71 a fete in the Champs Elysces, — the former are so much better dressed, and so much happier, gciyer, and handsomer. During the morning the Pope celebrates High Mass at San Pietro, and thousands of spectators are there, — some from curi- osity, some from piety. Few, however, of the Roman famiHes go there to-day; — they perform their reHgious services in their private chapel or in some minor church ; for the crowd of foreigners spoils St. Peter's for prayer. At the elevation of the Host, the guards, who line the nave, drop to their knees, their side-arms ringing on the pavement, — the vast crowd bends, — and a swell of trumpets sounds through the dome. Nothing can be more impressive than this moment in St. Peter's. Then the choir from its gilt cage re- sumes its chant, the high falsetti of the soprani soaring over the rest, and interrupted now and then by the clear musical voice of the Pope, — until at last he is borne aloft in his Papal chair on the shoulders of his attendants, crowned with the triple crown, be- tween the high, white, waving fans ; all the cardinals, monsignori, canonici, officials, priests, and guards going before him in splendid procession. The Pope shuts his eyes, from giddiness and from fasting, — for he has eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and the swaying motion of the chair makes him dizzy and sick. But he waves at intervals his three fingers to bless the crowd that kneel or bend before him, and then goes home to the Vatican to dine with a clean conscience and, let us hope, with a good appetite. It is the custom in Rome at the great y^-j-^t^j-, of which Christmas is one of the principal ones, for each parish to send round the sacrament to all its sick ; and during these days a procession of priests and attendants may be seen, preceded by their cross and banner, bearing the holy wafer to the various houses. As they march along they make the streets resound with the psalm they sing. Everybody lifts his hat as they pass, and many among the lower classes kneel upon the pavement. Frequently the procession is followed by a rout of men, women, and children, who join in the chanting and responses, pausing with the priest before the door of the sick person, and accompanying it as it moves from house to house. At Christmas, all the Roman world which has a baiocco in its 72 ROBA DI ROMA. pocket eats torone and pan giallo. The shops of the pastrycooks and confectioners are filled with them, mountains of them in- cumber the counters, and for days before Christmas crowds of pur- chasers throng to buy them. Torone is a sort of hard candy, made of honey and almonds, and crusted over with crystallized sugar; or, in other words, it is a nuga with a sweet frieze coat; — but nuga is a trifle to it for consistency. Pan giallo is perhaps so called quasi lucusj it being neither bread nor yellow. I know no way of giving a clearer notion of it, than by saying that its father is almond- candy, and its mother a plum-pudding. It partakes of the quali- ties of both its parents. From its mother it inherits plums and citron, while its father bestows upon it almonds and consistency. In hardness of character it is half-way between the two, having neither the maternal tenderness on the one hand, nor the paternal stoniness on the other. One does not break one's teeth on it as over the torone, which is only to be cajoled into masticability by prolonged suction, and often not then ; but the teeth sink into it as the waggoner's wheels into clayey mire, and every now and then receive a shock, as from sunken rocks, from the raisin stones, indurated almonds, pistachio-nuts, and pine-seeds, which startle the ignorant and innocent eater with frightful doubts. I earned away one tooth this year over my first piece ; but it was a tooth which had been considerably indebted to California, and I have forgiven the pan giallo. My friend the Conte Cignale, who par- took at the same time of torone, having incautiously put a large lump into his mouth, found himself compromised thereby to such an extent as to be at once reduced to silence and retirement behind his pocket-handkerchief An unfortunate jest, however, reduced him to extremities ; and, after a vehement struggle for politeness, he was forced to open the window and give his torone to the pavement — and the little boys, perhaps. Chi sa ? But despite these dangers and difficulties, all the world at Rome eats pan giallo and toro7ie at Christmas ; and a Christmas without them would be an egg without salt. They are at once a penance and a pleasure. Not content with the pan giallo, the Romans also im- port \hc pan fo?'te di Siena, which is a blood cousin of the former, and suffers almost nothing from time and age. CHRISTMAS— TORONE AND PAN GIALLO. 73 On Christmas and New Year's-day all the servants of your friends present themselves at your door to wish you a ^^ buona festa'' or a " biwn capo d' an7ioP This generous expression of good feeling is, however, expected to be responded to by a more sub- stantial expression on your part, in the shape of four or five pauls, so that one peculiarly feels the value of a large visiting-list of acquaintances at this season. To such an extent is this practice carried, that in the houses of the cardinals and princes places are sought by servants merely for the vails of the fcstas, no other wages being demanded. Especially is this the case with the higher dignitaries of the Church, whose maestro di casa, in hiring domestics, takes pains to point out to them the advantages of their situation in this respect. Lest the servants should not be aware of all these advantages, the times when such requisitions may be gracefully made and the sums which may be levied are care- fully indicated, — not by the cardinal in person, of course, but by his underlings ; and many of the fellows who carry the umbrella and cling to the back of the cardinal's coach, covered with shabby gold lace and carpet-collars, and looking like great beetles, are really paid by everybody rather than the master they serve. But this is not confined to the Emtnenze, many of whom are, I dare say, wholly ignorant that such practices exist. The servants of the embassies and all the noble houses also make the circuit of the principal names on the visiting-list, at stated occasions, with good wishes for the family. If one rebel, little care will be taken that letters, cards, and messages arrive promptly at their destina- tion in the palaces of thoir padroni ; so it is a universal habit to thank them for their politeness, and to request them to do you the favour to accept a piece of silver in order to purchase a bottle of wine and drink your health. I never knew one of them refuse ; probably they would not consider it polite to do so. It is curious to observe the care with which at the embassies a new name is registered by the servants, who scream it from anteroom to salon, and how considerately a deputation waits on you at Christmas and New Year, or, indeed, whenever you are about to leave Rome to take your villeggiaiura, for the purpose of conveying to you the good wishes of the season or of invoking for you a ^'' buon viaggio.^* 74 ROB A DI ROMA. One young Roman, a teacher of languages, told me that it cost him annually some twenty scudi or more to convey to the servants of his pupils and others his deep sense of the honour they did him in inquiring for his health at stated times. But this is a rare case, and owing, probably, to his peculiar position. A physician in Rome, whom I had occasion to call in for a slight illness, took an opportunity on his first visit to put a very considerable buona mano into the hands of my servant, in order to secure future calls. I cannot, however, say that this is customary : on the contrary, it is the only case I know, though I have had other Roman physicians ; and this man was in his habits and practice peculiarly un-Roman. I do not believe it, therefore, to be a Roman trait. On the other hand, I must say, for my servant's credit, that he told me the fact with a shrug, and added, that he could not, after all, recommend the gentleman as a physician, though I was padrone^ of course, to do as I liked. On Christmas Eve, a Presepio is exhibited in several of the churches. The most splendid is that of the Ara Coeli, where the miraculous Bambino is kept. It lasts from Christmas to Twelfth- Night, during which period crowds of people flock to see it ; and it well repays a visit. The simple meaning of the term Presepio is a manger, but it is also used in the Church to signify a represen- tation of the birth of Christ. In the Ara Coeli the whole of one of the side-chapels is devoted to this exhibition. In the foreground is a grotto, in which is seated the Virgin Mary, with Joseph at her side, and the miraculous Bambino in her lap. Immediately be- hind are an ass and an ox. On one side kneel the shepherds and kings in adoration \ and above, God the Father is seen surrounded by clouds of cherubs and angels playing on instruments, as in the early pictures of Raphael. In the background is a scenic repre- sentation of a pastoral landscape, on which all the skill of the scene-painter is expended. Shepherds guard their flocks far away, reposing under palm trees or standing on green slopes which glow in the sunshine. The distances and perspective are admirable. In the middle ground is a crystal fountain of glass, near which sheep, preternaturally white, and made of real wool and cotton- wool, are feeding, tended by figures of shepherds carved in wood. CHRISTMAS AND TWELFTH-NIGHT— FRESEPIO. 75 Still nearer come women bearing great baskets of real oranges md other fruits on their heads. All the nearer figures are full-size, carved in wood, painted, and dressed in appropriate robes. The miraculous Bambino is swaddled in a white dress, which is crusted over with magnificent diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. The Virgin also wears in her ears superb diamond pen- dants. Joseph has none; but he is not a person peculiarly respected in the Church. As far as the Virgin and Child are con- cerned, they are so richly dressed that the presents of the kings and wise men seem rather supererogatory, — like carrying coals to Newcastle, — unless, indeed, Joseph come in for a share, as it is to be hoped he does. The general effect of this scenic show is admir- able, and crowds flock to it and press about it all day long. Mothers and fathers are lifting their little children as high as they can, and until their arms are ready to break; little maids are pushing, whispering, and staring in great delight; peasants are gaping at it with a mute wonderment of admiration and devotion ; and Englishmen are discussing loudly the value of the jewels, and wanting to know, by Jove, whether those in the crown can be real. While this is taking place on one side of the church, on the other is a very different and quite as singular an exhibition. Around one of the antique columns of this basilica — which once beheld the splendours and crimes of the Caesars' palace — a staging is erected, from which little maidens are reciting, with every kind of pretty gesticulation, sermons, dialogues, and little speeches, in explanation of the Prescpio opposite. Sometimes two of them are engaged in alternate question and answer about the mysteries of the Incarnation and the Redemption. Sometimes the recitation is a piteous description of the agony of the Saviour and the suffer- ings of the Madonna, — the greatest stress being, however, always laid upon the latter. All these little speeches have been written for them by their priest or some religious friend, committed to memory, and practised with the appropriate gestures over and over again at home. Their little piping voices are sometimes guilty of such comic breaks and changes, that the crowd about them rusdes into a murmurous laughter. Sometimes, also, one of the very 76 ROBA DI ROMA. little preachers has an obstinate fit, pouts, shakes her shoulders, and refuses to go on with her part; another, however, always stands ready on the platform to supply the vacancy, until friends have coaxed, reasoned, or threatened the little pouter into obedi- ence. These children are often very beautiful and graceful, and their comical Httle gestures and intonations, their clasping of hands and rolling up of eyes, have a very amusing and interesting effect. The last time I was there I was sorry to see that the French costume had begun to make its appearance. Instead of the handsome Roman head, with its dark, shining, braided hair, which is so elegant when uncovered, I saw on two of the children the deforming bonnet which could have been invented only to conceal a defect, and which is never endurable, unless it be per- fectly fresh, delicate, and costly. Nothing is so vulgar as a shabby bonnet. Yet the Romans, despite their dislike of the French, are beginning to wear it. Ten years ago it did not exist here among the common people. I know not why it is that the three ugliest pieces of costume ever invented, the dress-coat, the trousers, and the bonnet, all of which we owe to the French, have been ac- cepted all over Europe, to the exclusion of every national cos- tume. Certainly it is not because they are either useful, elegant, or commodious. If one visit the Ara Coeli during the afternoon of one of these fesfas, the scene is very striking. The flight of one hundred and twenty-four steps is then thronged by merchants of Madonna wares, who spread them out over the steps and hang them against the walls and balustrades. Here are to be seen all sorts of curious little coloured prints of the Madonna and Child of the most ordi- nary quality, little bags, pewter medals, and crosses stamped with the same figures and to be worn on the neck — all offered at once for the sum of one baiocco. Here also are framed pictures of the Saints, of the Nativity, and, in a word, of all sorts of religious sub- jects appertaining to the season. Little wax dolls, clad in cotton- wool to represent the Saviour, and sheep made of the same ma- terials, are also sold by the basketful. Children and women are busy buying them, and there is a deafening roar all up and down the steps, of ^^ Mezzo baiocco, bello colo7'ito, inezzo baiocco, la San- CHRISTMAS— ARA COELL 77 tissima Concezio7ie Incoronata,'' — '' Diario Romano, Lunar io Ro- mano Ntwvo,'' — '' Rit ratio coloriio, jncdagUa e qiiadruccio, un baiocco tuiii, un baiocco iuitiy' — ^^Bambinclli di cera, un baiocco^ * None of the prices are higher than one baiocco, except to strangers, — and generally several articles are held up together, enumerated, and proffered with a loud voice for this sum. Meanwhile men, women, children, priests, beggars, soldiers, and peasants are crowd- ing up and down, and we crowd with them. At last, ascending, we reach the door with faces towards the west. We lift the great leathern curtain and push into the church. A faint perfume of incense saluted the nostrils. The golden sun- set bursts in as the curtain sways forward, illuminates the mosaic floor, catches on the rich golden ceiling, and flashes here and there over the crowd on some brilliant costume or shaven head. All sorts of people are thronging there — some kneeling before the shrine of the Madonna, which gleams with its hundreds of silver votive hearts, legs, and arms; some flstening to the preaching; some crowding round the chapel of the Presepio. Old women, haggard and wrinkled, come tottering along with their scaldini of coals, drop down on their knees to pray, and, as you pass, inter- polate in their prayers a parenthesis of begging. The church is not architecturally handsome ; but it is eminently picturesque, with its relics of centuries, its mosaic pulpits and floor, its frescoes of Pinturicchio and Pesaro, its antique columns, its rich golden ceihng, its Gothic mausoleum to the Savelli, and its mediaeval tombs. A dim, dingy look is over all ; — but it is the dimness of faded splendour ; and one cannot stand there, knowing the history of the church, its great antiquity, and the various fortunes it has known, without a peculiar sense of interest and pleasure. It was here that Romulus, in the gray dawning of Rome, built the temple of Jupiter Feretrius. Here the spolia opima were de- posited. Here the triumphal processions of the Emperors and generals ended. Here the victors paused before making their vows until, from the Mamertine Prisons below, the message came * " A \i2Xi-baiocco, beautifully coloured, — a ha\{-dawcc'hich are to issue in the lottery ? " " Eh ! padre into ! what will it cost you ? " was the answer. " Just look at me and my wretched family ; if we do not pay our rent on Saturday, out we go into the street. There is nothing left but the lottery, and you can give us the three numbers that will set all right." " Oh, there you are again ! I am ready to do all I can to assist you, but this matter of the lottery is impossible ; and I must say, that your folly, in supposing I can give you the three lucky numbers, does little credit to your brains." " Oh, no ! no ! do not say so. Padre mio ! Give me a term. It will be like rain in May, or cheese on my macaroni. On my word of honour, I'll keep it secret. Via! You, so good and charitable, cannot refuse me the three numbers. Pray content me this once." 136 ROBA DI ROMA, " My son, I will give you a rule for always being content : — Avoid Sin, think often on Death, and behave so as to deserve Paradise, — and so " '^Bastal basta! Padi-e mio ! That's enough. Thanks! thanks ! God will reward you." And making a profound reverence, off the shopkeeper rushes to his house. There he takes down the "Libro dei Sogni," calls into consultation his wife and children, and, after a long and earnest discussion and study, the three numbers corresponding to the terms Sin, Death, and Paradise are settled upon, and away goes our friend to play them in the lottery. Will you believe it ? — the three numbers are drawn, — and the joy of the poor shopkeeper and his family may well be imagined. But what you will not imagine is the persecution of the poor uomo apostolico which followed. The secret was all over town the next day, and he was beset by scores of applicants for numbers. Vainly he protested, declaring that he knew nothing about it, and that the man's drawing the right numbers was all chance. Every word he said turned into numbers, and off ran his hearers to play them. He was like the girl in the fairy story, who dropped pearls every time she spoke. The worst of the wibroglio was, that in an hour the good priest had uttered words equivalent to all the ninety numbers in the lottery, and the players were all at loggerheads with each other. Nor did this persecution cease for weeks, — until those who had played the numbers corresponding to his words found themselves, as the Italians say, with only flies in their hands. The stupidity of many of these common people in regard to these numbers is wonderful. When the number drawn is next to the number they have, they console themselves with thinking they were within one of it, — as if in such cases a miss were not as bad as a mile. But when the number drawn is a multiple of the one they play, it is a sympathetic number, and is next door to win- ning ; and if the number come reversed, — as if, having played 12, it come out 21, — he laughs with delight. "Eh, don't you see, you stupid fellow," said the chemist of a village one day to a dunce of a peasant, of whose infallible terno not a single number had been drawn, — ''Don't you see, in substance all your three GAMES— NUMBERS IN THE LOTTERY. 137 numbers have been drawn ? and it's shameful in you to be discon- tented. Here you have played 8 — 44 — 26, and instead of these have been drawn 7 — 11 — 62. Well! just observe! Your 8 is within only one point of being 7 ; your 44 is in substance 11, for 4 times II are 44 exactly; and your 26 is nothing more or less than precisely 62 reversed ; — what would you ask more? " And by his own mode of reasoning, the poor peasant sees as clearly as possible that he has really won, — only the difficulty is that he can- not touch the prize without correcting the little variations. Ma^ pazienza I he came so near this time that he will be sure to win the next, — and away he goes to hunt out more sympathetic numbers, and to rejoice with his friends on coming so near winning. This peculiarity of the common people has been amusingly exhibited by Belli in one of his sonnets, which is evidently from life. It is entided : — Li Dilettanti del Lotto. Come diavolo mai me so' accecato A nun capi la gabbola del Mago ! Ma ssenti : — I'incontrai sabbito al Lago ; Disce : — ** E da iieri che nun ho maggnato." Lo porto air osteiia ; — lui maggna ; — lo pago : •L'oste sparecchia ; e doppo sparecchiato Er mago pijja un cane Hi accucciato, E jje lega la coda co' un spago. lo fo un ambo : tre er cane ; e coda er nove. Ebbe ! azzecchesce un po ? ppe' pprim' astratto Vie ffora come un razzo er trenta nove. Ma eh? ppoteva dammelo ppiu cchiaro? Nun r averia capito puro un gatto ? L'aveva da lega, pporco-somaro ! Dreams of numbers are, of course, very frequent — and are justly much prized. Yet one must know how to use them, and be brave and bold, or the opportunity is lost. I myself once dreamt of having gained a terno in the lottery, but was fool enough not to play it, — and in consequence lost a prize, the very numbers coming up in the next drawing. The next time I have such a dream, of course I shall play; but perhaps I shall be too late, 138 ROBA DI ROMA. and only lose. And this recalls to my mind a story, which may serve as a warning to the timid and an encouragement to the bold. An Englishman, who had lived on bad terms with a very quarrelsome and annoying wife (according to his own account, of course), had finally the luck (I mean the misfortune) to lose her. He had lived long enough in Italy, however, to say '' Pazienza^'' and buried his sorrows and his wife in the same grave. But after the lapse of some time, his wife appeared to him in a dream, and confessed her sins towards him during her life, and prayed his forgiveness, and added, that in token of reconciliation he must accept three numbers to play in the lottery, which would certainly win a great prize. But the husband was obstinate, and absolutely refused to follow the advice of a friend to whom he recounted the odd dream, and who urged him to play the numbers. " Bah ! " he answered to this good counsel ; " I know her too well — she never meant well to me during her life, and I don't believe she's changed now that she's dead. She only means to play me a trick, and make me lose. But I'm too old a bird to be taken with her chaff." " Better play them," said his friend, — and they separated. In the course of a week they met again. " By-the- way," said the friend " did you see that your three numbers came up in the lottery this morning?" "The Devil they did! What a consummate fool I was not to play them ! " "You didn't play them ? " " No ! " " Well, I did, and won a good round sum with them too." So the obstinate husband, angiy at his ill-luck, cursed himself for a fool, and had his curses for his pains. That very night, however, his wife again appeared to him, and, though she reproached him a little for his want of faith in her (no woman could be expected to forego such an opportunity, even though she were dead,) yet she forgave him, and added, — " Think no more about it now, for here are three more numbers just as good." The husband, who had eaten the bitter fruit of experience, was determined at all events not to let his fortune slip again through his fingers, and played the highest possible terno in the lottery, and waited anxiously for the next drawing. He could scarcely eat his breakfast for nervousness that morning, — but at last mid-day sounded, and the drawing took place, but no one of GAMES-IJBRO DEI SOGNL 139 his numbers came up. " Too late ! taken in ! " he cried. '• Confound her ; she kncAv me better than I knew myself. She gave me a prize the first time, because she knew I wouldn't play it ; and, having thus whetted my passions, she then gave me a blank the second time, because she knew I would play it. I might have known better." From the moment one lottery is drawn, the mind of the people is intent on selecting numbers for the next. Nor is this an easy matter, — all sorts of superstitions existing as to figures and numbers. Some are lucky, some unlucky, in themselves, — some lucky only in certain combinations, and some sympathetic with others. The chances, therefore, must be carefully calculated, no number or combination being ever played without profound con- sideration, and under advice of skilful friends. Almost every event of life has a numerical signification ; and such is the reverence paid to dreams, that a large book exists of several hundred pages, called the " Libro dei Sogni," containing, besides various cabala and mystical figures and lists of numbers which are " sympathetic," with directions for their use, a dictionary of thou- sands of objects with the numbers supposed to be represented by each, as well as rules for interpreting into numbers all dreams in which these objects appear — and this book is the constant vade viecum of a true lottery-player. As Boniface lived, ate, and slept on his ale, so do the Romans on their numbers. They are scrawled over the ruins, on the shop-doors, on the sides of the houses, and are given in the almanacs. The very children " lisp in numbers, for the numbers come," and the fathers run imme- diately to play them. Accidents, executions, deaths, apoplexies, marriages, assassinations, births, anomalies of all kinds, become auguries and enigmas of numbers. A lottery-gambler will count the stabs on a dead body, the drops of blood from a decollated head, the passengers in an overturned coach, the wrinkles in the forehead of a new-born child, the gasps of a person struck by apoplexy, the day of the month and the hour and the minute of his death, the saidi lost by a friend, the forks stolen by a thief, anything and everj^thing, to play them in the lottery. If a strange dream is dreamed, — as of one being in a desert on a camel, I40 ROBA DI ROMA. which turns into a rat, and runs down into the Church to hide, — the *' Libro dei Sogni " is at once consulted, the numbers for desert, rat, camel, and Church are found and combined^ and the hopeful player waits in eager expectation of a prize. Of course, dream after dream of particular numbers and combinations occurs — for the mind bent to this subject plays freaks in the night, and repeats contortedly the thoughts of the day, — and these dreams are considered of special value. Sometimes, when a startling incident takes place with a special numerical significa- tion, the run upon the numbers indicated becomes so great, that the government, which is always careful to guard against any losses on its own part, refuses to allow more than a certain amount to be played on them, cancels the rest, and returns the price of the tickets. In the church of Sant Agostino at Rome, there is a celebrated Madonna, usually supposed to be the work of Sansovino. It is in fact an antique group, probably representing Agrippina and the young Nero, which Sansovino with a few touches transformed into a Madonna and child. But since it has been newly baptized and received into the church, it has acquired great celebrity for its miraculous powers — and in consequence has received from the devout exceedingly rich presents of precious stones, valued at several thousands of dollars, which are hung upon its neck. A short time since, the most valuable of these diamonds were miss- ing ; they had been stolen during the night ; and scandalous persons went so far as to attribute the theft to one of the priests. However this may be, the loss of these jewels made a great sen- sation in Rome, and was the chief subject of conversation for days, and as a matter of course, all the people rushed to the *' Libro dei Sogni," sought out the numbers for Madonna, dia- monds, and thief, and at once played them in the lottery ; and, as luck would have it, these very numbers were drawn, to the great delight of the people if not of the government, who thus lost a large sum of money. Another curious instance has just occurred on the occasion of the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the ist mass by the Pope Pius IX., in the year 1869. Here evidently was an incident of GAMES— THE POPES NUMBERS—AUGURIES. 141 which lottery-players would not fail to make use ; some of the numbers being so plainly indicated by the actual dates, and the remainder given by the " Libro dei Sogni." The number 9, of course stands for Pius IX.; 11 for April nth, the date of the anniversary; 69 for the year 1869 ; 50 for the half century which had elapsed since the first mass; and 26 for the word "mass," of which it is the cabalistic number in the ''Libro dei Sogni." Upon these numbers, called "the numbers of the Pope," there was a great run, and the Roman authorities immediately closed the play upon them. But the Italian government, less superstitious, or less sagacious, allowed them to be played by all the world. The " Correspondance de Rome " of the 24th of April takes the latter view, — " Le gouvemement Italien, toujours stupide quand il n'est pas de mauvaise foi, n'avait pas pris cette precaution, en sorte que la plupart des joueurs avaient librement place sur ' Les Numeros du Pape.' " Unfortunately all five of the numbers were drawn, and the result was a disastrous loss to the govern- ment ; or, as some of the clerical journals affirmed, there was the " hand of God " in the event, and it was a " justification of that great word of scripture, *Ludit in orbe terraram.'" Certain it is that an immense sum of money was won by the players and lost by the Italian government. The "Correspondance de Rome," jubilant on this result, exclaims " Voila ce que tons les bons Italiens ont compris. Dieu s'est joiie de ITtalie officielle." In thesC' matters the modern Romans are the true descendants of their ancient ancestors, who took auguries from dreams, being of opinion that they were the messengers of the gods, — for, says Homer, dreams descend to us from Jove. They made lustrations to obtain favourable dreams, with heated water taken from the river, and for the same purpose they sacrificed black sheep and laid themselves down to sleep upon the warm skin. Instead of the popular prejudice which now exists against telling one's dreams, they imagined, on the contrary, that the influence of ill- omened dreams could be counteracted by repeating them to the sun ; and when Iphigenia dreamed that the palace in which she dwelt was to fall, she took this method to avert evil consequences. They also consulted old women who had acquired the reputation 142 liOBA DI ROMA. for divination to interpret their dreams, and were cleverer at their trade, let us hope, than the Jewesses of the Ghetto. The most celebrated in this art were the Telmissenses ; and Lucien makes mention of one of this nation, a certain Aristander, who was the interpreter of dreams to Alexander the Great. Many were the ancient authors who distinguished themselves in this science, and wrote treatises upon it. Tertullian, for instance, in his treatise "de Anima," mentions among others, Antiphon, Strato, Philochorus, Serapion, Cratippus, Dionysius Rhodius, and Epicharmus, the last of whom seems to have had the highest reputation of all as an interpreter of dreams. Besides these, Arte- midorus mentions Geminius, Pirius, Demetrius Phalerius, and Artimon Milesius, the first of whom wrote three books on this subject, the second five books, and the third twenty-eight books, — and to these we must add, Aristarchus, and Hermippus, who was a pupil of Philo, and wrote five books on the interpretation of dreams. Of all these works, however, not one has been preserved ; still we possess the works of some celebrated writers on this subject, among whom may be mentioned Artemidorus, Astramp- sicus, Sinesius, Nicephorus, and Michael Paleologus. That of Artemidorus is especially curious ; it is in five books, and contains an elaborate account of the general rules of interpretation of dreams, and of the particular significance of all sorts of dreams, as for instance of dancing, fighting, hunting, fishing, and other active exercises ; of planets, earthquakes, and physical phenomena ; of the various gods \ of the different parts of the body ; of birds, beasts, reptiles, insects, and even of matters and things relating to the toilette, and ornaments and portions of the dress. In his fifth book he enumerates no less than ninety-five actual dreams, with the true interpretation to be given of them, as wxll as of the events that followed them ; and in one chapter he speaks of numbers as connected with dreams, though he merely alludes to this subject, and does not enter into any details. According to Artemidorus, the ancients divided dreams into two classes — somnia and insomnia — the former being affections of the mind and indicating future events, and the latter resulting from more material conditions of the body, and indicative of the past or GAMES— DREAMS AND AUGURIES. 143 present. Macrobius, however, in his work " In Somnium Scipionis," says there are five kinds of dreams, called by the Romans, somnium, visio, oraculum, insomnium, and visum (or phantasma), the latter two being of no value in divination, as they resulted from anxiety or over-labour. The somnium was the oveipo'i of the Greeks which descended from the gods ; the visio was the appearance and return of a friend ; the oraculum was the an- nouncement of some future event by a parent, a priest, or a god ;^ all of which forms of dream were possessed by Scipio. Macrobius also gives us a curious account of the symbolical meaning of numbers, which should be recommended to all who play in the lottery. Though the Romans do not admit these distinctions, and are behind their ancestors in all that relates to the philosophy of dreams, they have an equal faith in their value as indicative of fortune and misfortune ; and a Roman of the lower class, if he have a singular dream is sure at once to tell it to his friends, con- sult upon it, and finally play it in the lottery, they purchasing the same numbers as he; and why not, if, as Tertullian assures us, " Dreams we receive from God " — and there be " no man so foolish as never to have known any dreams come true." The follo^ving extract from Astrampsicus reads so like an extract from one of the almanacs in popular use in Rome, that it is almost impossible to believe it is not modern : "Walking upon charcoal," he says " presages an injury by your enemy ; whoever dreams he holds a bee in his hand will see his hopes frustrated ; moving slowly indicates calamitous voyages ; if you are glad in your mind, it is a sign that you should dwell in a foreign country ; the dream of stars is of good augury ; if you walk over earthenware vases, look out to avoid the plots your enemies are devising against you (is not this thoroughly Italian ?) ; the appearance of oxen threatens a misfortune ; eating grapes indicates that a great fall of rain is near ; thunder heard in dreams is the discourse of angels ; eating figs denotes vain talk ; seeing milk is an indication of placid habits, and shows that you will escape your enemies ; if you dream of yourself as being old, expect honours ; if you are naked, fear to lose your possessions; a bad odour is a sign of some annoyance." 144 ROBA DI ROMA. Whatever we may say as to most of these interpretations, the last we shall all agree to. In this connection, it seems to me that I cannot conscientiously omit to state to all my Roman friends who draw auguries and numbers for the lottery from dreams, that a possible reason why they are so often deceived in their divinations may be found in the fact that they are too much given to the eating of beans. ^Apollonius Dyscolus, whose testimony on this subject can scarcely be impeached, declares solemnly that beans hinder the mind from the reception of true dreams, and rather open the way to those which are lying and false. And Diogenes Laertius, in his " Life of Pythagoras," says that this philosopher strictly prohibited his disciples from the use of beans for various very singular reasons. Cicero also declares that they prevent '' that tranquillity of mind which is necessary in investigating truth." And Aristotle, Pliny, and Dioscorides, agi-ee that "whoever wishes to divine the future should strictly abstain from beans." Plutarch goes further, and says that the "head of polypi," as well as leeks, are also to be avoided. How then can the modern Romans expect to divine true numbers from their dreams, when beans, polypi, and garlic form so common an article of their food ? Nor only this, seasons and hours must be observed, which are not now considered. Plutarch insists that all dreams (insomnia) which occur in the months when the leaves fall are uncertain and mendacious,' because the spirit is then disturbed and turbulent ; in like manner as grapes, com, and apples at that season are distended and effervescent; and besides, only those dreams which occur after midnight are to be relied upon. Post mediam noctem quum somnia vera. This "I have thought it writ down in my duty" to let my Italian friends know ; but there are many more conditions which they are bound to observe, would they hope to derive fortunes out of dreams, which it is truly shameful in the " Libro dei Sogni " not to report. Sometimes in dreaming of numbers it is well not to be too strong in one's arithmetic. A case lately occurred in the house of GAMES— MASTER TOMMETTO'S NUMBERS 145 a friend, where an accurate knowledge of the muhiplication table would have been disastrous. His maid-servant had the luck to win a considerable sum in the lottery on the number 23. On her master's inquiry why she happened to pitch on that number, she answered, "You see, sir, I dreamed the number 7 three nights running, and I said to myself, says I, three times three is 23 and so I went and bought that number, and it came up." But it is not only by means of dreams and books of dreams that the Italians seek the numbers which shall bring them a prize in the lottery. Sometimes, in passing through the streets, one may see a crowd collected about a man mounted upon a chair or stool. Fixed to a stand at his side or on the back of his chair is a glass bottle, in which are two or three hollow manikins of glass, so arranged as to rise and sink by pressure of the confined air. The neck of the bottle is cased in a tin box which surmounts it and has a movable cover. .This personage is a charlatan, with an apparatus for divining lucky numbers for the lottery. The " soft bastard Latin " runs off his tongue in an uninterrupted stream of talk, while he offers on a tray to the bystanders a number of little folded papers containing a pianeia, or augury, on which are printed a fortune and a terno. " Who will buy a pianeta^' he cries, "with the numbers sure to bring him a prize? He shall have his fortune told him who buys. Who does not need counsel must surely be wise. Here's Master Tommetto, who never tells lies. And here is his brother still smaller in size. And Madama Medea Plutonia to advise. They'll write you a fortune and bring a prize for a single baiocco. No creature so wise as not to need counsel. A fool I despise, who keeps his baiocco and loses his prize. Who knows what a fortune he'll get till he tries ? Time's going, Signori, — who buys ? who buys ? " And so on by the yard. Meantime the crowd about him gape, stare, wonder, and finally put their hands to their pockets, out with their baiocchi, and buy their papers. Each then makes a mark on his paper to verify it, and returns it to the charlatan. After several are thus collected, he opens the cover of the tin box, deposits them therein with a certain ceremony, and commences an exhortatory discourse to the manikins in the bottle, — two of whom. Maestro Tommetto L 146 ROBA DI ROMA. and his brother, are made to resemble Httle black imps, while Madama Medea Plutonia is dressed alia Fraiicese. " Fa una reverenza, Maestro Tommeito I " " Make a bow, Master Tom- metto !" he now begins. The puppet bows. " Ancora .^" " Again !" Again he bows. ^^ Lesto, Signore, u?t piccolo ghrtto /" "Quick, sir, a little turn ! " And round whirls the puppet. " Now, up, up, to make a registry on the ticket ! and do it conscientiously. Master Tommetto ! " And up the imp goes, and disappears through the neck of the bottle. Then comes a burst of admiration at his cleverness from the charlatan. Turning now to the other imp, he goes through the same role with him. "And now, Madama Medea, make a reverence, and follow your husband ! " ** Ed ora, Madama Medea, Cospetto ! Fa una reverenza col tuo bel petto ! E via ! su ! un piccolo giretto ! Lesto, presto, su, sotto il tetto Al caro marito, al bello Moretto — Al buono, amabile, tuo Tommetto." And up she goes. A moment after, down they all com.e again at his. call ; he lifts the cover of the box ; cries, " Oh ! qiianto sei caro, mio buono Tommetto I ^' and triumphantly exhibits the papers, each with a little freshly written inscription, and distributes them to the purchasers. Now and then he takes from his pocket a little bottle containing a mixture of the colour of wine, and a paper filled with some sort of powder, and, exclaiming, " Ah I tu hai fame e sete, mi pare! Bisogna che ti dia da here e mangiare!^'' pours them into the tin cup. It is astonishing to see how many of these little tickets a clever charlatan will sell in an hour, and principally on account of the lottery-numbers they contain. The fortunes are all the stereotype thing, and almost invariably warn you to be careful lest you should be ^Hradito^'' or promise that you shall not be ^^ tradito ;'' for the idea of betrayal is the corner-stone of eveiy Italian's mind. In not only permitting, but promoting the lottery, Italy is certainly far behind England, France, and America. This system no longer exists with us, except in the disguised shape of gift- GAMES— BETTING IN ENGLAND. 147 enterprises, art-unions, and that unpleasant institution of mendi- cant robbery called the raffle, and employed specially by those "who have seen better days." But a fair parallel to this rage of the Italians for the lottery is to be found in the love of betting, which is a national characteristic of the English. I do not refer to the bets upon horse-flesh at Ascot, Epsom, and Goodwood, by which fortunes change owners in an hour, and so many men are ruined, but rather to the general habit of betting upon any and every subject to settle a question, no matter how trivial, for which the Englishman is everywhere renowned on the Continent. Bet- ting is with most other nations a form of speech, but with English- men it is a serious fact, and no one will be long in their company without finding an opinion backed up by a bet. It would not be very difficult to parallel those cases where the Italians disregard the solemnity of death, in their eagerness for omens of lottery numbers, with equally reprehensible and apparently heartless cases of betting in England. Let any one who doubts this examine the betting-books at White's and Brooks's. In them he will find a most startling catalogue of bets, — some so bad as to justify the good parson in Walpole's story, who declared that they were such an impious set in this respect at White's, that, '' if the last trump were to sound, they would bet puppet-show against judgment." Let one instance suffice. A man, happening to drop down at the door of White's, was lifted up and carried in. He was insensible, and the question was, whether he were dead or not. Bets were at once given and taken on both sides, and it being proposed to bleed him, those who had taken odds that he was dead protested, on the ground that the use of the lancet would affect the fairness of the bet. In the matter of play, things have now much changed since the time when Mr. Thynne left the club at White's in disgust, because he had won only twelve hundred guineas in two months. There is also a description of one of Fox's mornings, about the year 1783, which Horace Walpole has left us, and the truth of which Lord Holland admits, which it would be well for those to read who measure out hard justice to the Italians for their love of the lottery. Let us be fair. Italy is in these respects behind England by half a century ; but it is as idle to argue hard-hearted- 148 ROBA DI ROMA. ness in an Italian who counts the drops of blood at a beheading as to suppose that the EngHsh have no feeling, because in the bet we have mentioned there was a protest against the use of the lancet, or to deny kindliness to a surgeon who lectures on structure and disease while he removes a cancer. Vehement protests against the lottery and all gaming are as often uttered in Italy as elsewhere; and among them may be cited this passage from " L'Asino " by one of the most powerful of her modern writers, Guerrazzi : — " Is not Tuscany the garden of Italy ? So say the Tuscans ; and the Florentines add, that Florence is the Athens of Tuscany. Truly, both seem beautiful. Let us search in Tuscany. At Bar- berino di Mugello, in the midst of an olive-grove is a cemetery where the vines, which have taken root in the outer walls and climbed over their summit, fall into the inclosed space, as if they wished to garland Death with vine-leaves and make it smile; over the gate, strange guardians of the tombs, two fig- trees give their shadow and fruit to recompense the piety of the passers-by, giving a fig in exchange for a De Profundis ; while the ivy, stretching its wanton arms over the black cross, endea- vours to clothe the austere sign of the Redemption with the jocund leaves of Bacchus, and recalls to your mind the mad Phr)aie who vainly tempted Xenocrates. A beautiful cemetery, by my faith ! a cemetery to arouse in the body an intense desire to die, if only for the pleasure of being buried there. Now observe. Look into my magic-lantern. What figures do you see? A priest with a pick; after him a peasant with a spade; and behind them a woman with a hatchet : the priest holds a corpse by the hair ; the peasant with one blow, strikes off its head ; then, all things being carefully rearranged, priest, peasant, and woman, after thrusting the head into a sack, return as they came. Attention now, for I change the picture. What figures are these that now appear ? • A kitchen ; a fire that has not its superior, even in the Inferno ; and a caldron, where the hissing and boiling water sends up its bubbles. Look about and what do you see ? Enter the priest, the peasant, and the housewife, and in a moment empty a sack into the caldron. Lo ! a head rolls out, dives into the water, and floats to GAMES— IL SORTILEGIO. 149 the surface, now showing its nape and now its face. The Lord help us ! It is an abominable spectacle : this poor head, with its ashy open lips, seems to say, Give me again my Christian burial ! That is enough. Only take note that in Tuscany, in the beautiful middle of the nineteenth century, a sepulchre was violated, and a sacrilege committed, to obtain from the boiled head of a corpse good numbers to play in the lottery ! And by way of corollary, add this to your note, that in Rome, Caput Mimdi, and in Tus- cany, Garden of Italy, it is prohibited, under the severest penalties to play at Faro^ Zecchinetto, Banco-Fallito, Rossa e Nera, and other similar games at cards, where each party may lose the whole or half the stakes, while the government encourage the play of the Lottery, by which, out of one hundred and twenty chances of winning, eighty are reserved for the bank, and forty or so allowed to the player. Finally, take note that in Caput Mundt, and in Tuscany, Garden of Italy, Faro, Zecchmetto, Fossa e Nera were prohibited, as acknowledged pests of social existence and open death to honest customs, — as a set-off for which deprivation, the game of the Lottery is still kept on foot." The extraordinary story here alluded to by Guerrazzi, improbable as it seems, is founded upon fact, and was clearly proved, on judi- cial investigation, a few years since. It is well known in Tuscany and forms the subject of a satirical narrative (" II Sortilegio ") by Giusti, a modern Tuscan poet, of true fire and genius, who has lashed the vices of his country in verses remarkable for point, idiom, and power. According to him, the method of divination resorted to in this case was as follows : the sorcerer who in- vented it ordered his dupes to procure, either at dawn or twilight, ninety dry chick-peas, called ceci, and upon each of these to write one of the ninety numbers drawn in the lottery, with an ink made of pitch and lard, which would not be affected by water. They were then to sharpen a knife, taking care that he who did so should touch no one during the operation ; and after a day of fasting, they were to dig up at night a body recently dead, and, having cut off the head and removed the brain, they were to count the beans thrice, and to shake them thrice, and then, on their knees, to put them one by one into the skull. This was then to ISO ROB A DI ROMA. be placed in a caldron of water and set on the fire to boil. As soon as the water boiled violently, the head would be rolled about so that some of the beans would be ejected, and the first three which were thus thrown to the surface would be a sure terno for the lottery. The wretched dupes added yet another feature of super- stition to insure the success of this horrible device. They selected the head of their curate, who had recently died, — on the ground that, as he had studied algebra, he was a great cabalist, and any numbers from his head would be sure to draw a prize. Some one, I have no doubt, will here be anxious to know the numbers that bubbled up to the surface ; but I am very sorry to say that I cannot gratify their laudable curiosity, for the inter- ference of the police prevented the completion of the sorcery. So the curious must be content to consult some other cabalist, — " sull* arte segrete Di menar la Fortuna per il naso, Pescando il certo nel gran mar del Caso." Despite a wide-spread feeling among the higher classes against the lottery, it still continues to exist, for it has fastened itself into the habits and prejudices of many ; and an institution which takes such hold of the passions of the people, and has lived so long, dies hard. Nor are there ever wanting specious excuses for the continuance of this, as of other reprobated systems, — of which the strongest is, that its abolition would not only deprive of their present means of subsistence numbers of persons employed in its administration, but would cut off certain charities dependent upon it, amounting to no less than forty thousand scudi annually. Among these may be mentioned the dowTy of forty scudi which is given out of the profits received by the government at the drawing of every lottery to some five or six of the poor girls of Rome. The fist of those who would profit by this charity is open to all, and contains thousands of names. The first number drawn in the lottery decides the fortunate persons ; and on the subsequent day, each receives a draft for forty scudi on the government, pay- able on the presentation of the certificate of marriage. On the accession of the present Pope, an attempt was made to abolish GAMES—LOTTERY STATISTICS. 151 the lottery system ; but these considerations, among others, had weight enough to prevent any changes. So deeply is this system rooted in the habits and thoughts of the people that it would be difficult if not dangerous to decree its immediate abolition — even the Italian government has not as yet ventured to interfere with it. How deeply it is rooted in Italy will appear by a glance at some of the statistics of the lottery. The official report lately published in Florence shows that the revenue derived therefrom by the Italian Treasury is 60,000,000 francs, or nearly as much as the proceeds of the tobacco monopoly. In the province of Naples, which contains 868,000 inhabitants, the sums paid yearly for lottery tickets amount to from 25,000,000 to 26,000,000 francs; and even at Turin, where the mania for the lottery is milder, 600,000,000 of francs are drawn from a population of 942,000. It is also stated that the books having the largest circulation in the South are those which profess to give lucky numbers, explain dreams, and describe various modes of gaining prizes in the lottery, by consulting-cards, magic diagrams, and cabala of various kinds. There is nothing that the Romans of the lower classes would not more willingly surrender than the lottery; it is their joy and solace, day and night. Saturday, when the prizes are drawn, is the day of all the week to which they look forward. For a few baiocchi they buy a golden dream, which is like a ray of sun in their dark chamber of poverty. They never lose their hope that Fortune will smile upon them at last, and every time she turns her back they say, " Pazienza," " better luck another time." It is not necessary to win ; they are happy if they come near winning. " Just think," cries Nicolina, coming in radiant after 12 o'clock, "what has hap- pened ! " " What ! " I cry, " is it a term ? " " No, no ; but so near ! my first number, 71, came up all right, and then 16, and then 24, and my other two numbers were 15 and 25. Give me some more numbers to play ; I shall win next week. So near !— wasn't it near ? Tra la la, tra la la," and she dances round the room. Though the play is generally small, large fortunes are sometimes gained. The family of the Marchese del Cinque, for instance, 152 ROBA DI ROMA. derive their title and fortune from the luck of an ancestor, who played and won the highest prize, a Cinquino. With the money thus acquired he purchased his marquisate, and took the title del Cinque., " of the Five," in reference to the lucky five numbers. The Villa Quaranta Cinque in Rome derives its name from a similar circumstance. A lucky Monsignore played the single number of forty-five, al posto, and with his winnings built the villa, to which the Romans, always addicted to nicknames, gave the name'of Quaranta Cinque. This love of nicknames, or soprannomi, as they are called, is, by the way, an odd peculiarity of the Italians, and it often occurs that persons are known only thereby. Examples of these, among the celebrated names of Italy, are so frequent as to form a rule in favour of the nickname rather than of the real name, and in many cases the former has utterly obliterated the latter. Thus Squint Eye {Guercino), Dirty Tom {Masaccio), The Little Dyer [Tintoretto), Great George {Giorgione), The Garland- Maker (Ghirlajtdaio), Luke of the Madder {Luca delta robbia). The Little Spaniard {Spagnoletto), and The Tailor's Son {Bel Sarto), would scarcely be known under their real names of Barbieri, Guido, Robusti, Barbarelli, Corradi, Ribera, and Vannucchi. The list might be very much enlarged ; but let it suffice to add the follow- ing well-known names, all of which are nicknames derived from their places of birth : Perugino, Veronese, Aretino, Pisano, Giulio Romano, Correggio, Parmegiano. The other day a curious instance of this occurred to me in taking the testimony of a Roman coachman. On being called upon to give the names of some of his companions, with whom he had been in daily and intimate intercourse for more than two years, he could only give their nicknames ; their real names he did not know, and had never heard. One of his friends, to whom I wished particu- larly to write, in order to obtain some important information, he only knew under the extraordinary name of Lo Zoppo di Spluca. Vainly I sought to learn his real name and address, he always gave the same answer. " Eh, Signore, I only know him by that name — ^ The lame one of the Splugen,' and if you address a letter to him anywhere by that name it will be sure to reach him, for everybody knows him on the road." A little, gay, odd genius, whom I took GAMES— TOMBOLA 153 into rny service during a villcgi:;icUura at Siena, would not answer to his real name, Lorenzo, but remonstrated on being so called, and said he was only Fipeita (The Little Pipe), a nickname given to him when a child, from his precocity in smoking, and of which he was as tenacious as if it were a title of honour. " You prefer, then, to be called Pipetta?" I asked " Felicissimo ! s\'' was his answer. Not a foreigner comes to Rome that his name does not " suffer a sea-change into something rich and strange." Our break-jaw Saxon names are discarded, and a new christening takes place. One friend I had who was called // Malmcomco, — another. La Barbarossa, — another, // bel Signore, — another, who was near- sighted, Quel Cieco, — and ^ill another, // lungo Secco ; but gene- rally they are called after the number of the house or the name of the street in which they live, — La Signorina bella biofida del Palazzo Galitzin, — // Signore Quatordici Capo le Case, — Mo7isieur e Ma- dama Quindici Terzo Piano, Corso, — La Vecchia brutta del Co7'so. But to return from this digression. — At every country festival may be seen a peculiar form of the lottery called Tombola ; and in the notices of these festas, which are placarded over the walls of Rome for weeks before they take place, the eye will always be attracted first by the imposing word Tombole, printed in the largest and blackest of letters. This is, in fact, the characteristic feature of the fesia, and attracts large numbers of contadini. As in the ordinary lottery, only ninety numbers are played. Every ticket contains blank spaces for fifteen numbers, which are inserted by the purchaser, and registered duly at the office or booth where the ticket is bought. The price of tickets in any single Tombola is uniform ; but in different To?nbole it varies, of course, according to the amount of the prizes. These are generally five, namely, — the Ambo, Terno, Quaterno, Cinquino, and Tombola, though some- times a second Tombola or Tomboletia is added. The drawing takes place in precisely the same manner as in the ordinary lottery, but with more ceremony. A large staging, with a pavilion, is erected, where the officers who are to superintend the drawing stand. In the centre is a glass vase, in which the numbers are placed after having been separately verified and proclaimed, and a boy gaily dressed draws them. . All the ninety numbers are 154 ROBA DI ROMA. drawn ; and as each issues, it is called out, and exhibited on a large card. Near by stands a large framework, elevated so as to be visible to all, with ninety divisions corresponding to the ninety numbers, and on this, also, every number is shown as soon as it is drawn. The first person who has upon his ticket two drawn numbers gains an Ambo, which is the smallest prize. Whoever first has three numbers drawn on a line gains a Terno ; and so on with the Qiiaterno and Cinqiiino. The Torjibola, which is the great prize, is won by whoever first has his whole fifteen numbers drawn. As soon as any one finds two of the drawn numbers on one line of his ticket, he cries, " Ambo,'' at the top of his lungs. A flag is then raised on the pavilion, the band 'plays, and the game is sus- pended, while the claimant at once makes his way to the judges on the platform to present his ticket for examination. No sooner does the cry o( ^^ AmboJ' " Terno,'' " Qiiaterno," take place, than there is a great rustle all around. Everybody looks out for the fortunate person, who is immediately to be seen running through the parting crowd, which opens before him, cheering him as he goes, if his appearance be poor and needy, and greeting him with sarcasms, if he be apparently well to do in the world. Sometimes there are two or three claimants for the same prize, in which case it is divided among them. The Afubo is soon taken, and there is little room for a mistake ; but when it comes to the Qiiaierno or Cinquino, mistakes are very common, and the claimant is almost always saluted with chaff and jests. After his ticket has been examined, if he have won, a placard is exhibited with Ambo, Terno, Quaterno on it, as the case may be. But if he have committed an error, down goes the flag, and, amidst a burst of laughter, jeer- ing, whistling, screaming, and catcalls, the disappointed claimant sneaks back and hides himself in the excited crowd. At a really good Tombola, where the prizes are high, there is no end of fun and gaiety among the people. They stand with their tickets in their hands, congratulating each other ironically, as they fail to find the numbers on them, paying all sorts of absurd compliments to each other and the drawer, offering to sell out their chances at enormous prices when they are behindhand, and letting off all sorts of squibs and jests, not so excellent in themselves as provo- GAMES— TOMBOLA IN THE VILLA BORGIIESE. 155 cative of laughter. If the wit be Httle, the fun is great, — and, in the excitement of expectation, a great deal of real Italian humour is often ventilated. Sometimes, at the country fairs, the fun is rather slow, particularly where the prizes are small ; but, on ex- citing occasions, there is a constant small fire of jests, which is amusing. These Tombole are sometimes got up with great pomp. That, for instance, which sometimes takes place in the Villa Borghese is one of the most striking spectacles which can be seen in Rome. At one end of the great open-air amphitheatre is erected a large pavilion, flanked on either side with covered logge or palchi, fes- tooned with yellow and white, — the Papal colours, — adorned with flags, and closed round with rich old arrases pictured over with Scripture stories. Beneath the central pavilion is a band. Mid- way down the amphitheatre, on either side, are two more logge, similarly draped, where two or more bands are stationed, — and still another at the opposite end, for the same purpose. The logge which flank the pavilion are sold by ticket, and filled with the richer classes. Three great stagings show the numbers as they are drawn. The pit of the amphitheatre is densely packed with a motley crowd. Under the ilexes and lofty stone-pines that show their dark-green foliage against the sky, the helmets and swords of cavalry glitter as they move to and fro. All around on the green slopes are the people,— soldiers, peasants, priests, mingled toge- ther,— and thousands of gay dresses, ribbons and parasols enliven the mass. The four bands play successively as the multitude gathers. They have already arrived by thousands, but the game has not yet begun, and thousands are still flocking to see it. All the gay equipages are on the outskirts, and through the trees and up the avenues stream the crowds on foot. As we stand in the centre of the amphitheatre and look up, we get a faint idea of the old Roman gatherings when Rome emptied itself to join in the games at the Colosseum. Row upon row they stand, a mass of gay and swarming life. The sunlight flashes over them, and blazes on the rich colours. The tall golden-trunked pines and dark ilexes overshadow them here and there ; above them is the soft blue dome of the Italian sky. They are gathered round the 156 ROBA DI ROMA. villeita, — they throng the roof and balconies, — they crowd the stone steps, — they pack the green oval of the amphitheatre's pit. The ring of cymbals, the clarion of trumpets, and the clash of brazen music vibrate in the air. All the world is abroad to see, from the infant in arms to the oldest inhabitant. Monsignori in purple stockings and tricomered hats, peasants in gay reds and crimsons, cardinals in scarlet. Princes, shopkeepers, beggars, foreigners, all mingle together ; while the screams of the vendors of cigars, pumpkin-seeds, cakes, and lemonade are everywhere heard over the suppressed sea-like roar of the crowd. As you walk along the outskirts of the mass, you may see Monte Gen- naro's dark peak looking over the Campagna, and all the Sabine hills trembling in a purple haze, — or, strolling down through the green avenues, you may watch the silver columns of fountains as they crumble in foam and plash in their mossy basins, — or gather masses of the sweet Parma violet, and other beautiful wild flowers. The only other games among the modem Romans, which de- serve particular notice from their peculiarity, are those of Cards. In an Italian pack there are only forty cards, — the eight, nine, and ten of the French and English cards having no existence. The suits also have different signs and names, and, instead of hearts, spades, clubs, and diamonds, they are called coppe, spade, bastoni, and denai'i, — all being of the same colour, and differing entirely in form from our cards. The coppe are cups or vases ; the spade are swords ; the bastoni are veritable clubs or bludgeons ; and the denari are coins. The games are still more different from ours than the cards, and they are legion in number. There are Bris- cola, Tresette, Calabresella, Banco-Fallito, Rossa e Nera, Scarac- coccia, Scopa, Spizzica, Faraone, Zecchineito, Mercante in Fiera, La Bazzica, Ruba-Monte, Uomo-Nero, La Faura, and I know not how many others, — but they are recorded and explained in no book, and are only to be picked up orally. Wherever you go on 2ifesia- day, you will find persons playing cards. At the common osterias, before the doors or on the soiled tables within, on the ruins of the Caesars' palaces and in the Temple of Peace, on the stone tables GAMES— CARDS. 157 in the vigna, on the walls along the public roads, on the uncarved blocks of marble in front of the sculptor's studios, in the ante- chambers or gateways of palaces, — Everywhere cards are played. Every coiitadi?w has a pack in his pocket, with the flavour of the soil upon it. The playing is ordinarily for very low sums, often for nothing at all. But there are some games which are purely games of luck, and dangerous. Some of these, as Rossa e Nera, Banco-Fallito, and Zecc/iinetto, though prohibited by the government, are none the less favourite games in Rome, particularly among those who play for money. Zecchinetto may be played by any number of persons after the following manner : — The dealer, who plays against the whole table, deals to each player one card. The next card is then turned up as a trump. Each player then makes his bet on the card dealt to him, and places his money on it. The dealer then deals to the table the other cards in order, and any of the players may bet on them as they are thrown down. If a card of the number of that bet on, issue before a card corresponding to the number of the trump, the dealer wins the stake on that card ; but whenever a card corresponding to the trump issues, the player wins on every card on which he has bet. When the banker or dealer loses at once, the bank "7^ toppa^' and the deal passes, but not otherwise. Nothing can be more simple than this game, and it is just as dangerous as it is simple, and as exciting as it is dan- gerous. A late 'R.om^n principessa is said to have been passion- ately fond of it, and to have lost enormously by it. The story runs, that, while passing the evening at a friend's house, she lost ten thousand scudt at one sitting, — upon which she staked her horses and carriage, which were at the door waiting to take her home, and lost them also. She then wrote a note to the prince, her husband, saying that she had lost her carriage and horses at Zecchinetto, and wished others to be sent for her. To this he answered, that she might return on foot, — which she was obliged to do. This will serve at least as a specimen of the games of chance played by the Romans at cards. Of the more innocent games, Briscola, Tresette, and Scaraccoccia are the favourites among the common people. The first of these, is, perhaps, the most popular 158 ROBA DI ROMA. of all. It is played by either two or four persons. The Fante (or knave) counts as two ; the Cavallo (equal to our queen) as three ; the Re (king) as four ; the three-spot as ten ; and the ace as eleven. Three cards are dealt to each person, and after the deal the next card is turned as trump, or Briscola. Each plays, and, after one card all round is played, its place is supplied by a new deal of one card to each. Every card of the trump-suit takes any card of the other suits. Each player takes as many counting-cards as he can, and, at the end of the game, he who counts the most wins, — the account being made according to the value of the cards, as stated above. Far better games than this are Tresette and Calabresella. These are the favourites of the cardinals, Monsignore, and Prelates, when they play among themselves in purely Roman society ; and so per- suaded am I that they will also be favourites of yours, that I deem it my duty to acquaint you with the rules of these two admirable games. The more you play them and the more you enter into \k\.€\r finesse, the more you will enjoy them; for, though apparently simple, they require much skill and calculation. At all events, one gets tired of constantly playing whist, even though " with a clean hearth and the rigour of the game," demanded by all players of the order of Mrs. Battle ; and certainly Calabresella, which is played by three, is better than whist with a dummy. Try these games, my good friend, and ever after you will thank me and believe in the taste of the Prelatura of Rome. And first as to the general rules. The Italian cards being only forty in number, you must throw out the eight, nine, and ten spots of the French pack. In playing, the highest card in value is the three-spots, then the two, then the ace, after which follow the king, queen, knave, seven, six, and so on. In making up the game the ace counts one point. The other enumerated cards, from the three to the knave inclusive, count one-third of a point, three being required to make a point. The last trick also counts one point, independent of the cards composing it. No card can take another unless it be a higher card of the same suit, there being no trumps. The first hand in every trick has the right, in playing his card, to strike it on the table, and thus to indicate to his partner GAMES— CALABRESELLA. 159 that he wishes him to return the lead, or to drag it along the table to indicate the opposite. Now as to the special rules of Tresette. This game is played between four persons, who select partners as in whist, and the cards are distributed, not one by one, but first by fours and then by threes, until all are dealt. After examining his cards each player is bound, before the game commences, to declare or claim in case he holds three cards of three spots, three of two spots, or three aces; or in case he holds what is called a ^^ Napolitana^'' which is the three, two, and ace of one and the same suit. This he does by saying '^ accuso,'^ I declare or claim. But he is not bound to tell 7iihat he claims until the first hand is played. Then he must say whether he claims three aces, three twos, three threes, or a ^'' Napolitana'' At any time during the game the others have a right to demand, in case he claim anything except the " Napo- litana,^' what he claims; but he may refuse to answer until the last card of the trick, during which or in anticipation of which the demand is made, is played down. Whoever holds the " Napolitana^' or three aces, three twos, or three threes, counts three points on each series. If he hold four threes, twos, or aces, he counts four points. The game now commences. Each party endeavours to take as many counting-cards as it can, and when all are played each counts according to the general rules before given — three cards for the taking of the last trick, three cards for every ace, and one for each two, three, king, queen, and knave. The number thus made up is divided by three to give the number of points (a card being, as before said, one-third of a point), and to these are added the points made by the claim. The number of the points is regulated by agreement at twenty-one, at thirty-one, or at forty-one. No card takes a trick unless it is the highest of the suit which is led. Calabresella is played by three persons. Twelve cards are dealt to each by fours, and the four remaining cards are placed on the table with their faces down. The first player, after examining his cards, if he feels himself strong enough to play against the other two, who are thus made partners, so declares. In such case he has the right to demand, first, any three-spot that he wishes, and i6o ROB A Dl ROMA. the person who holds it must surrender it to him, receiving in return, before the playing commences, any card the other chooses to give. He then may turn up the four cards on the table, so as to be seen by all, and take them all into his hand, which he makes up at his pleasure, replacing any four cards on the table with their faces down. These the other players cannot examine, and they belong to the hand that takes the last trick. The party which makes the most points wins, and the counting is made according to the general rules before stated. If the three which he demands is among the four cards on the table, he cannot call for another three. But in case all the threes are dealt to him, and not other- wise, he may call for any card of two spots. In case the first person is not strong enough to play against the other two, he passes his right to the next, and if he cannot stand, he passes it on to the third. If none accept, the cards are dealt again. If the player who stands against the others forgets to put four cards on the table in place of those he takes up, he loses the game. If he wins, he takes the stakes of each of the others ; and if he loses, he pays each the stakes. If he does not make a single point he pays double ; if he takes the whole cards they pay him double. CHAPTER VII. MAY IN ROME. May has come again, — "the delicate-footed May," her feet hidden in flowers as she wanders over the Campagna, and the cool breeze of the Campagna blowing back her loosened hair. She calls to us from the open fields to leave the wells of damp churches and shadowy streets, and to come abroad and meet her where the mountains look down from the roseate heights of vanishing snow upon plains of waving grain. The hedges have put on their best draperies of leaves and flowers, and, girdled in at their waist by double osier bands, stagger luxuriantly along the road like a drunken Bacchanal procession, crowned with festive ivy, and holding aloft their snowy clusters of elder-blossoms like thyrsi. Among their green robes may be seen thousands of beau- tiful wild flowers, — the sweet-scented laurustinus, all sorts of running vetches and wild sweet-pea, the delicate vases of dewy morning- glories, clusters of eglantine or sweet-brier roses, fragrant acacia- blossoms covered with bees and buzzing flies, the gold of glowing gorses, and scores of purple and yellow flowers, of which I know not the names. On the gray walls straggle and cluster creepers, grass, and the humble class of flowers which go by the ignoble name of weeds ; and over them, held down by the green cord of the stalk, balance the rent balloons of hundreds of flaming scarlet poppies that seem to have fed on fire. The undulating swell of the Cam- pagna is here ablaze with them for acres, and there deepening with growing grain, or snowed over by myriads of daisies. Music and song, too, are not wanting; hundreds of birds are in the hedges. The lark, "from his moist cabinet rising," rains down his trills of incessant song from invisible heights of blue sky ; and M i62 ROBA DI ROMA. whenever one passes the wayside groves, a nightingale is sure to bubble into song. The oranges, too, are in blossom, perfuming the air ; locust-trees are tasselled with odorous flowers ; and over the walls of the Campagna villa bursts a cascade of vines covered with Banksia roses. The Carnival of the kitchen-gardens is now commencing. Peas are already an old story, strawberries are abundant, and cherries are beginning to make their appearance, in these first days of May; old women sell them at every corner, tied together in tempting bunches, as in " the cherry-orchard " which Miss Edgeworth has made fairy-land in our childish memories. Nor are the fresh and tempting ones only offered for sale. You will sometimes hear the odd and honest cry of " Chi vuol cerasi col pad7'one in casa?" — "Who wants cherries with a master in the house?" — the master, who cheapens the home and hearthstone he inhabits, being the maggot. Asparagus also has long since come ; and artichokes make their daily appearance on the table, sliced up and fried, or boiled whole, or coming up roasted and gleaming with butter, with more outside capes and coats than an ideal English coach- man of the olden times. Here, too, is fennel, tasting like anisette, and good to mix in the salads. And great beans lie about in piles, the contadini twisting them out of their thick pods with their thumbs, to eat them raw. Nay, even the signoria of the noble families do the same, as they walk through the gardens, and think them such a luxury that they eat them raw for breakfast. But over and above all other vegetables are the lettuces, which are one of the great staples of food for the Roman people, and so crisp, fresh, delicate, and high-flavoured, that he who eats them once will hold Nebuchadnezzar no longer a subject for compassion, but rather of envy. Drowned in fresh olive-oil and with a dash of vinegar, they are a feast for the gods ; and even in their natural state, without condiments, they are by no means to be despised. At the corners of the streets they lie piled in green heaps, and are sold at a baiocco for five heads. At noontide, the contadini and labourers feed upon them without even the condiment of salt, crunching their white teeth through the crisp, wet leaves, and alternating a bite at a great wedge of bread : and toward nightfall, MA Y— CABBAGES— KITCHEN-GARDEN. 163 one may see carts laden high up with closely-packed masses of them, coming in from the Campagna for the market. In a word, the Carnival of the kitchen-garden has come, and \\\Qfesta of the vegetables, at which they do not eat, but are eaten. But — a thousand, thousand pardons, O mighty Cavolo; — how have I dared omit thy august name ? On my knees, O potentest of vegetables, I crave forgiveness ! I will burn at thy shrine ten waxen candles, in penance, if thou wilt pardon the sin and shame of my forgetfulness ! The smoke of thy altar-fires, the steam of thy incense, and the odours of thy sanctity rise from every hypse- thral shrine in Rome. Out-doors and in-doors, wherever the foot wanders, on palatial stairs or in the hut of poverty, in the convent pottage and the "Z<^r^" soup, in the wooden platter of the beggar and the silver tureen of the prince, thou fillest our nostrils, thou satisfiest our stomach. Far away, whenever I inhale thy odour, I shall think of '^ Roman Joys ; " a whiff from thine altar in a foreign land will bear me back to the Eternal City, " the City of the Soul," the City of the Cabbage, the home of the Dioscuri, Cavolo and Broccoli I Yes, as Paris is recalled by the odour of chocolate, and London by the damp steam of malt, so shall Rome come back when my nostrils are filled with thy penetrative fragrance ! Saunter out at any of the city gates, or lean over the wall at San Giovanni (and where will you find a more charming spot ?), or look down from the windows of the Villa Negroni, and your eye will surely fall on one of the Roman kitchen-gardens, patterned out in even rows and squares of green. Nothing can be prettier or more tasteful in their arrangement than these variegated carpets of vegetables. A great cistern of running water crowns .the height of the ground, which is used for the purposes of irrigation ; and to- wards nightfall the vent is opened, and you may see the gardeners unbanking the channelled rows to let the inundation flow through hundreds of little lanes of intersection and canals between the beds, and then banking them up at the entrance when a sufficient quantity of water has entered. In this way they fertilize and re- fresh the soil, which else would parch under the continuous sun. And this, indeed, is all the fertilization they need, — so strong is the soil all over the Campagna. The accretions and decay of i64 ROBA DI ROMA. thousands of years have covered it with a loam whose richness and depth are astonishing. Dig where you will, for ten feet down, you do not pass through its wonderfully fertile loam into gravel, and the slightest labour is repaid a hundred-fold. As one looks from the Villa Negroni windows, he cannot fail to be impressed by the strange changes through which this wonderful city has passed. The very spot on which Nero, the insane em- peror artist, fiddled while Rome was burning has now become a vast kitchen-garden, belonging to Prince Massimo (himself a de- scendant, as he claims, of Fabius Cunctator), where men no longer, but only lettuces, asparagus, and artichokes, are ruthlessly cut down. The inundations are not for mock sea-fights among slaves, but for the peaceful purposes of irrigation. And though the fiddle of Nero is only traditional, and of course, utterly apocryphal, the trumpets of the French, murdering many an unhappy strain near by, are a most melancholy fact. In the bottom of the valley, a noble old villa, covered with frescoes, has been turned into a manufactory of bricks, and the garden of the very Villa Negroni itself is now the site of a railway station. Yet here the princely family of Negroni lived ; and the very lady at whose house Lu- crezia Borgia took her famous revenge may once have sauntered under the walls, which still glow with ripening oranges, to feed the gold fish in the fountain, — or walked with stately friends through the long alleys of clipped cypresses, and pic-nicked alia Giorgione on lawns which are now but kitchen-gardens, dedicated to San Cavolo. It pleases me, also, descending in memories to a later time, to look up at the summer-house built above the gateway, and recall the days when Shelley and Keats came there to visit their friend Severn, the artist (for that was his studio), and look over the same alleys and gardens, and speak words one would have been so glad to hear, — and, coming still later down, to recall the hearty words and brave heart of one of America's best sculptors and my dear friend, Thomas Crawford. Should the ghosts of the past waken at nightfall to wander through these gardens, they would be startled by the wild shriek and snort of the iron steed with his fiery eyes and vaporous breath, that, dragging behind him the long and clattering train from Naples, UNHEALTHINESS OF TREES AND GARDENS. 165 comes plunging through ancient walls, and tombs, and modern vineyards, and cypress-alleys to stable himself at last within the walls of Diocletian's ancient baths. But to return to the kitchen-gardens. Pretty as they are to the eye, they are not considered to be wholesome ; and no Roman will live in a house near one of them, especially if it lie on the southern and western side, so that the Scirocco and the prevalent summer winds blow over it. The daily irrigation, in itself, would be sufficient to frighten all Italians away ; for they have a deadly fear of all effluvia arising from decomposing vegetable substances, and suppose, with a good deal of truth, that, wherever there is water on the earth, there is decomposition. But this is not the only reason ; for the same prejudice exists in regard to all kinds of gardens, whether irrigated or not, — and even to groves of trees and clusters of bushes, or vegetation of any kind around a house. This is the real reason why, even in their country villas, their trees are almost always planted at a distance from the house, so as to expose it to the sun and to give it a free ventilation : trees they do not care for ; damp is their determined foe, and therefore they will not purchase the luxury of shade from foliage at the risk of the damp it is supposed to engender. On the north, however, gardens are not thought to be so prejudicial as on the south and west, as the cold, dry winds come from the former direction. The malaria, as we call it, though the term is unknown to Romans, is never so dangerous as after a slight rain, just sufficient to wet the surface of the earth without deeply penetrating it ; for decompo- sition is then stimulated, and the miasma arising from the Cam- pagna is blown abroad. So long as the earth is dry, there is no danger of fever, except at morning and nightfall, and then simply because of the heavy dews which the porous and baked earth then inhales and expires. After the autumn has given a thorough, drenching rain, Rome is healthy and free from fever. Rome has with strangers the reputation of being unhealthy ; but this opinion I cannot think well founded, — to the extent, at least, of the common belief. The diseases of children there are ordi- narily very light, while in America and England they are terrible. Scarlet and typhus fevers, those fearful scourges in the North, are 1 66 ROB A DI ROMA. known at Rome only under most mitigated forms. Cholera has shown no virulence there ; and for diseases of the throat and lungs the air alone is almost curative. The great curse of the place is the intermittent, fever, in which any other illness is apt to end. But this, except in its peculiar phase of Fernidosa, though a very annoying, is by no means a dangerous disease, and has the addi- tional advantage of a specific remedy. The Romans themselves of the better class seldom suffer from it, and I cannot but think that with a little prudence it may be easily avoided. Those who are most attacked by it are the labourers and contadini on the Campagna ; and how can it be otherwise with them ? They sleep often on the bare ground, or on a little straw under a hut just large enough to admit them on all-fours. Their labour is ex- hausting, and performed in the sun, and while in a violent per- spiration they are often exposed to sudden draughts and checks. Their food is poor, their habits careless, and it would require an iron constitution to resist what they endure. But despite the life they lead and their various exposures, they are for the most part a very strong and sturdy class. This intermittent fever is un- doubtedly a far from pleasant thing; but Americans who are terrified at it in Rome give it no thought in Philadelphia, where it is more prevalent, — and while they call Rome unhealthy, live with undisturbed confidence in cities where scarlet and typhus fevers annually rage. If Rome be an unhealthy city, on the whole, how does it happen that the people who never leave it, the year round, are so robust and healthy. Look at the men and women in the streets, do they look as if they suffered from the climate ? It is a singular fact, that the French soldiers, who in 1848 made the siege of Rome, suffered no inconvenience or injury to their health from sleeping on the Campagna, and that, despite the prophecies to the contrary, very few cases of fever appeared, though the siege lasted during the summer months. The reason of this is doubtless to be found in the fact that they were better clothed, better fed, and in every way more careful of themselves, than the contadini. Foreigners, too, who visit Rome, are very seldom attacked by intermittent fever ; and it may truly be said, that, when they are, it is, for the most part, their own fault. MAY— ITALIAN HABITS OF LIFE. 167 There is generally the grossest inconsistency between their theories and their practice. Believing as they do that the least exposure will induce fever, they expose themselves with singular recklessness to the very causes of fever. After hurrying through the streets and getting into a violent perspiration, they plunge at once into some damp pit-like church or chill gallery, where the temperature is at least ten degrees lower than the outer air. The bald-headed, rosy John Bull, steaming with heat, doffs at once the hat which he wore in the street, and, of course, is astounded if the result prove just what it would be anywhere else, — and if he take cold and get a fever, charges it to the climate, and not to his own folly and reck- lessness. Beside this, foreigners will always insist on carrying their home habits with them wherever they go ; and it is exceed- ingly difficult to persuade any one that he does not understand the climate better than the Italians themselves, whom he puts down as a poor set of timid ignoramuses. However, the longer one lives in Rome, the more he learns to value the Italian rules of health. There is probably no people so careful in these matters as the Italians, and especially the Romans. They understand their own climate, and they have a decided dislike of death. In France and England suicides are very common ; in Italy they are almost unknown. The American recklessness of life completely astounds the Italian. He enjoys life, studies every method to preserve it, and considers any one who risks it unnecessarily as simply a fool. What, then, are their rules of life ? In the first place, in all their habits they are very regular. They eat at stated times, and cannot be persuaded to partake of anything in the intervals. If it be not their hour for eating, they will refuse the choicest viands, and sit at your table fasting, despite every temptation you can offer. They are also abstemious in their diet, and gluttony is the rarest of vices. I do not believe there is another nation in Europe that eats so sparingly. In the morning they take a cup of coffee, generally without milk, sopping in it some light brioche. Later in the day they take a slight lunch of soup and macaroni, with a glass of wine. This lasts them until dinner, which begins with a thin soup ; after which the lesso or boiled meat comes on and is eaten with one vegetable, which is less a dish than a garnish to i68 ROBA DI ROMA. the meat ; then comes a dish of some vegetable eaten with bread ; then, perhaps, a chop, or another dish of meat, garnished with a vegetable ; some light dolce or fruit, and a cup of black coffee, — the latter for digestion's sake, — finish the repast. The quantity is very small, however, compared to what is eaten in England, France, America, or, though last, not least, Germany. Late in the evening they have a supper. When dinner is taken in the middle of the day, lunch is omitted. This is the rule of the better classes. The workmen and middle classes, after their cup of coffee and bit of bread or brioche in the morning, take nothing until night, except another cup of coffee and bread, — and their dinner finishes their meals after their work is done. From my own observation, I should say that an Italian does not certainly eat more than half as much as a German, or two-thirds as much as an American. The climate will not allow of gormandizing, and much less food is required to sustain the vital powers than in America, where the atmosphere is so stimulating to the brain and the digestion, or in England, where the depressing effects of the climate must be counteracted by stimulants. Go to any table d^hote in the season, and you will at once know all the English who are new comers by their bottle of ale or sherry or brandy ; for the Englishman assimilates with difficulty, and unwillingly puts off his home-habits. The fresh American will always be recog- nized by the morning-dinner which he calls a breakfast. If you wish to keep your health in Italy, follow the example of the Italians. Eat a third less than you are accustomed to at home. Do not drink largely or habitually of brandy, porter, ale, or even Marsala, but confine yourselves to the lighter wines of the country or of France. Do not exhaust your nervous system by too continuous sight seeing, nor by long walks or violent exercise. Do not walk much in the sun; "only Englishmen and dogs " do that, as the proverb goes ; and especially take heed not to expose yourself, when warm, to any sudden changes of temperature. If you have heated yourself with walking in the sun, be careful not to go at once, and especially towards nightfall, into the lower and shaded streets, which have begun to gather the damps, and are kept cool by the high thick walls of the houses. MAY— RULES FOR HEALTH. 169 Remember that the difference of temperature is very great between the narrow, shaded streets and the high, sunny Pincio. If you have the misfortune to be of the male sex, and especially if you suffer under the sorrow of the first great Caesar in being bald, buy yourself a little skull-cap (it is as good as his laurels for the pur- pose), and put it on your head whenever you enter the churches and cold galleries. Almost every fever here is the result of sud- denly checked transpiration of the skin ; and if you will take the precaution to cool yourself before entering churches and galleries, and not to expose yourself while warm to sudden changes of temperature, you may live twenty years in Rome without a fever. Do not stand in draughts of cold air, and shut your windows when you go to bed. There is nothing an Italian fears like a current of air, and with reason. He will never sit between two doors or two windows. If he has walked to see you and is in the least warm, pray him to keep his hat on until he is cool, if you would be courteous to him. You will find that he will always use the same gentilezza to you. The reason why you should shut your windows at night is very simple. The night air is invariably damp and cold, contrasting greatly with the warmth of the day, and it is then that the miasma from the Campagna drifts into the city. And oh, my American friends ! repress your national love for hot rooms and great fires, and do not make an oven of your salon. Bake yourselves, kiln-dry yourselves, if you choose, in your fur. naced houses at home, but, if you value your health, " reform that altogether " in Italy. Increase your clothing and moderate your fires, and you will find yourself better in head and in pocket. With your great fires you will always be cold and always have colds ; for the houses are not tight, and you only create great draughts thereby. You will not persuade an Italian to sit near them ; — he will, on the contrary, ask your permission to take the farthest comer away from the fire. Seven winters in Rome have convinced me of the correctness of their rule. Of course, you do not believe me or them ; but it would be better for you if you did, — and for me, too, when I come to visit you. But I must beg pardon for all this advice ; and as my business is not to write a medical thesis here, let me return to pleasanter things. I70 ROBA DI ROMA. Scarcely does the sun drop behind St. Peter's on the first day of May, before bonfires begin to blaze from all the country towns on the mountain-sides, showing like great beacons. This is a custom founded in great antiquity, and common to the North and South. The first of May is the Festival of the Holy Apostles in Italy; but in Germany, and still farther north, in Sweden and Norway, it is Walpiirgisnacht^ when goblins, witches, hags, and devils hold high holiday, mounting on their brooms for the Brocken. And it was on this night that Mephistopheles carried Faust on his wondrous ride, and showed him the spectre of Mar- garet with the red line round her throat. In the Neapolitan towns great fires are built on this festival, around which the people dance, jumping through the flames, and flinging themselves about in every wild and fantastic attitude. Similar bonfires may also be seen blazing everywhere over the hills and on the Campagna on the eve of the day of San Giovanni, which occurs on the 24th of June; and if you would have a medicine to cure all wounds and cuts, go out before daylight and pluck the little flower called ///<2/?'^ (St. John's wort), and make an infusion of it before the sun is up ; but at all events be sure on the eve of this day to place a plate of salt at the door, for it is the witches' festival, and no one of the tribe can pass the salt to injure you without first counting every grain, a task which will occupy the whole night, and thus save you from evil. Besides this, place a pitchfork, or any fork, by the door, as an additional safeguard, in case she calls in allies to help her count. These are relics of the old pagan custom alluded to by Ovid,* and particularly described by Varro, when the peasants made huge bonfires of straw, hay, and other inflammable materials, called ^^ Falilia" and men, women, and children danced round them and leaped through them in order to obtain expiation and free themselves from evil influences — the mothers holding out over the flames those children who were too young to take an active part in this rite. The canonist Balsamon in his comment * " Moxque per ardentes stipulae crepitantis acervos, Trajicias celeri strenua membra pede." — Fasii, lib. 4. MAY— NORTH AND SOUTH. 171 on the sixty-fifth canon of the Council "in Trullo," also reports, on the authority of the Patriarch of Constantinople, among other superstitious usages, that of leaping through the fires that even then it was the custom to make on the eve of St. John. But this rite goes much farther back into antiquity, and may be referred to the most ancient oracle of Saturn, by which it was ordered that children should be passed through flames, and which was afterwards barbarously interpreted to mean that they should be burned alive, as a sacrifice to Saturn. The month of May is the culmination of the spring and the season of seasons at Rome. No wonder that foreigners who have come when winter sets in and take wing before April shows her sky, sometimes growl at the weather, and ask if this is the beauti- ful Italian clime. They have simply selected the rainy season for their visit ; and one cannot expect to have sun the whole year through, without intermission. Where will they find more sun in the same Reason? where will they find milder and softer air? Even in the middle of winter, days, and sometimes weeks, descend as it were from heaven to fill the soul with delight; and a lovely day in Rome is lovelier than under any other sky on earth. But just when foreigners go away in crowds, the .weather is settling into the perfection of spring, and then it is that Rome is most charming. The rains are over, the sun is a daily blessing, all Nature is bursting into leaf and flower, and one may spend days on the Campagna without fear of colds and fever. Stay in Rome during May, if you wish to feel its beauty. The best rule for a traveller who desires to enjoy the charms of every clime would be to go to the North in the winter and to the South in the spring and summer. Cold is the speciality of the North, and all its sports and gaieties take thence their tone. The houses are built to shut out the demon of Frost, and to protect one from his assaults of ice and snow. Let him howl about your windows and scrawl his wonderful landscapes on your panes, and pile his fantastic wreaths outside, while you draw round the blaz- ing hearth and enjoy the artificial heat and warm in the social converse that he provokes. Your punch is all the better for his threats ; by contrast you enjoy the more. Or brave him outside 172 ROB A DI ROMA. in a flying sledge, careering with jangling bells over wide wastes of snow, while the stars, as you go, fly through the naked trees that are glittering with ice-jewels, and your blood tingles with excitement, and your breath is blown like a white incense to the skies. That is the real North. How tame he will look to you when you go back in August and find a few hard apples, a few tough plums, and some sour little things which are apologies for grapes ! He looks sneaky enough then, with his make-believe summer, and all his furs ofl". No, then is the time for the South. All is simmering outside, and the locust saws and shrills till he seems to heat the air. You stay in the house at noon, and know what a virtue there is in thick walls which keep out the fierce heats, in gaping windows and doors that will not shut because you need the ventilation. You will not now complain of the stone and brick floors that you cursed all winter long, and on which you now sprinkle water to keep the air cool in your rooms. The blunders and stupidities of winter are all over. The breezy loggia is no longer a joke. You are glad enough to sit there and drink your wine and look over the landscape. Mariuccia brings in a great basket of purple and white grapes, which the wasp envies you as you eat, and comes to share. And here are luscious figs bursting their sugary skins, and apricots rusted in the sun, and velvety peaches that break into juice in your mouth, and great black-seeded water-melons. Nature empties her cornucopia of fruits, flowers, and vegetables over your table. Luxuriously you enjoy them and fan yourself and take your siesta, with full appreciation of your dolce far niente. When the sun begins to slope westward, if you are in the country, you wander through the green lanes festooned with vines and pluck grapes as you go ; or, if you are in the city, you saunter the even- ing long through the streets where all the world are strolling, and take your granita of ice or sherbet, and talk over the things of the day and the time, and pass as you go home groups of singers and serenaders with guitars, flutes, and violins, — serenade, perhaps, sometimes yourself; and all the time the great planets and stars throb in the near heavens, and the soft air full of the fragrance of orange-blossoms blows against your cheek. And you can really MA Y— FRENCH PHILOLOGICAL NOTIONS, 173 say, This is Italy ! For it is not what you do, so much as what you feel, that makes Italy. But pray remember that in the South every arrangement is made for the nine hot months, and not for the three cold and rainy ones you choose to spend there, and perhaps your views may be some- what modified in respect of this " miserable people," who, you say, " have no idea of comfort," — meaning, of course, English comfort. Perhaps, I say ; for it is in the nature of travellers to come to sudden conclusions upon slight premisses, to maintain with obsti- nacy preconceived notions, and to quarrel with all national traits except their own. And being English, unless you have a friend in India who has made you aware that cane-bottom chairs are India- English, you will be pretty sure to believe that there is no comfort without carpets and coal ; or being an American, you will be apt to undervalue a gallery of pictures with only a three-ply carpet on the floor, and to " calculate," that, if they could see your house in Washington Square, they would feel rather ashamed. However, there is a great deal of human nature in mankind, wherever you go, — except in Paris, perhaps, where nature is rather inhuman and artificial. And when I instance the Englishman and Ame- rican as making false judgments, let me not be misunderstood as supposing them the only nations in that category. No, no ! did not my Parisian acquaintance the other day assure me very gravely, after lamenting the absurdity of the Italians not speaking French instead of their own language, — " Mais enfin, monsieur, qu'est-ce que c'est que cet Italien ? ce riest que de mauvais Fran^aisy Nor is it only once that I have had the fortune to hear these peculiar philological views put forw^ard gravely by one of the ^^ grande nation^ On arriving at the railway station at Civita Vecchia the other day, I heard a little strutting French abbe make nearly the same proposition, — adding in a contemptuous tone of voice, as an illustration of the truth of his remarks — ^^ Regardez, par exemple, on ne sait pas 7neme ecrii-e le mot bagages. Dans leur patois il est '■ bagaglie.^ Quels ignoraJtts .-'" But we are now in May, and life is altogether changed from what it was in the winter. All the windows are wide open, and there is at least one head and one pair of shoulders leaning out at every house. 174 ROB A DI ROMA, The poorer families are all out on their door-steps, working and chatting together, while their children run about them in the streets, sprawling, playing, and fighting. Many a beautiful theme for the artist is now to be found in these careless and character- istic groups j and curly-headed St. Johns may be seen in every street, half-naked, with great black eyes and rounded arms and legs. It is this which makes Rome so admirable a residence for an artist. All things are easy and careless in the out-of-doors hfe of the common people, — all poses unsought, all groupings acci- dental, all action unaffected and unconscious. One meets Nature at every turn, — not braced up in prim forms, not conscious in manners, not made up into the fashionable or the proper, but impulsive, free, and simple. With the whole street looking on, they are as unconscious and natural as if they were where no eye could see them, — ay, and more natural, too, than it is possible for some people to be; even in the privacy of their solitary rooms. They sing at the top of their lungs as they sit on their door-steps at their work, and often shout from house to house across the street a long conversation, and sometimes even read letters from upper windows to their friends below in the street. The men and women who cry their fmits, vegetables, and wares up and down the city, laden with baskets or paniers, and often accompanied by a donkey, stop to chat with group after group, or get into ani- mated debates about prices, or exercise their wits and lungs at once in repartee in a very amusing way. Everybody is in disha- bille in the morning, but towards twilight the girls put on their better dresses, and comb their glossy raven hair, heaping it up in great solid braids, and, hanging two long golden ear-rings in their ears and necklaces round their full necks, come forth conquering and to conquer, and saunter bare-headed up and down the streets, or lounge about the doorways and piazzas in groups, ready to give back to any jeerer as good as he sends. You see them marching along sometimes in a broad platoon of five or six, all their brows as straight as if they had been ruled, and their great dark eyes flashing out under them, ready in a moment for a laugh or a frown, What stalwart creatures they are ! What shoulders, bosoms, and backs they have ! What a chance for the lungs under those stout AfA Y—STREE T PICTURES— THE LIMONAR 0. 17 s bodices ! and what finished and elegant heads ! They are cer- tainly cast in a large mould, with nothing mean or meagre about them, either in feature or figure. Early in the morning you will see streaming through the streets or gathered together in picturesque groups, some standing, some couching on the pavement, herds of long-haired goats, brown, white, and black, which have been driven, or rather which have followed their goat-herd, into the city to be milked. The majes- tical, long-bearded, patriarchal he-goats shake their bells and parade solemnly about, while the silken females clatter their little hoofs as they run from the hand of the milker when he has filled his can. The goat-herd is kept pretty busy, too, milking at every- body's door ; and before the fashionable world is up at nine, the milk is drained and the goats are off again to the Campagna. You may know that it is May by the orange and lemon stands, which are erected in almost every piazza. These are little booths covered with canvas, and fantastically adorned with lemons and oranges intermixed, which, piled into pyramids and disposed about everywhere, have a very gay effect. They are generally placed near a fountain, the water of which is conducted through a canna into the centre of the booth, and there, finding its own level again, makes a little spilling fountain from which the l?3iYe are diluted. Here for a baiocco one buys lemonade or orangeade and all sorts of curious little drinks or hihite, with a feeble taste of anisette or some other herb to take off the mawkishness of the water, — or for a \idXi-baiocco one may have the lemonade without sugar, and in this way it is usually drunk. On all/d'j-/<^-days, little portable tables are carried about the streets, hung to the neck of the limonaro^ and set do\vn at convenient spots, or whenever a customer pre- sents himself, and the cries ^^Acqua fresca^ — limo7ta7V, lnno7ta7'o, — chi vuol here ? " are heard on all sides ; and I can assure you, that, after standing on tip-toe for an hour in the heat and straining your neck and head to get sight of some Church procession, you are glad enough to go to the extravagance of even a lemonade with sugar ; and smacking your lips, you bless the mission of the Hmo- naro, which must have been early founded by the Good Samaritan. Listen to his own description of himself in one of the popular 176 ROB A DI ROMA. canzonetti sung about the streets by wandering musicians to the accompaniment of a vioHn and guitar .• — " Ma per altro son uomo ingegnoso Non possiedo, ma sono padrone ; Vendo 1' acqua con spirto e limone Finche dura d' estate il calor. *' Ho un capello di paglia, — ma bello ! Un zinale di sopra fino ; Chi mi osserva al mio tavoHno, GU vien sete, se sete non ha. " Spaccio spirti, sciroppi, acquavite, Fo 'ranciate di nuova invenzione ; Voi vedete quante persone Chiedon acqua, — e rispondo, — Son qua! " Yet for all that I'm a man of resources, Master, at least, if no wealth I inherit ; Water I sell, mixed with lemon and spirit, Long as the heat of the summer endures. I've a straw hat, too, that's not to be sneered at! Find me an apron as fine, if you're able ? Just let a man look at me and my table, Thirsty he'll be, if he was not before. Here I sell spirits, and syrups, and brandy, Make orangeades of a novel invention ; You will see crowds, if you'll just pay attention, Asking for water, — and I cry, I'm here. May is the month sacred to the Madonna, as it was to the Bona Dea among the ancient Romans, and the Madonna in Rome is supreme. She rules the hearts of all Catholics and draws them to the bosom of the Church, as the consoler and intercessor of all. To her the fisherman prays as he loosens his boat from shore, for she is ^^ Stella Maris ^^ the star of the sea; and in the storm he calls upon her to save him : — " In mare irato, in subita procella, Invoco te ! oh benigna Stella ! " She stands first in all the thoughts of love and home. Her image is the household Penates ; and when the day is done and night comes on, the toll of the Ave Maria recalls the mother at MAY— AVE MARIA. 177 whose breast we were nursed, and on whose bosom we have slept. Nor only during the duties and occupations of life is this reverence paid to the Madonna. She stands by the bedside of the dying man, and to her he recommends his soul with the last whisper that hovers over his pallid lips. Nothing can be more impressive than the bell of the Ave Maria as you hear it in the country around Rome. The brilliant splen- dours of sunset have passed away — the sky is soft and pale with delicate dovelike tints, and stars are faintly peering out of its still deeps. Solemn shadows are gathered in the brown valley, where slow grey mists are rising; the mountains are cut sharply and darkly against the clear sky, and houses and belfries are printed on it in black silhouettes. Far away the voices of peasants may be heard, returning to their homes, and wandering lights show here and there in distant meadows. As you walk musingly along, breathing the earthy smell that rises from the Campagna, and touched by the serious and pensive calm that then gathers over all Nature, your ear is struck by the musical clang of bells ringing for Ave Maria — each of which amid the silence — " Paia il giorno pianger che si muore," and every one pauses and crosses himself, and says a little prayer to the Madonna. During this month of May special honours are paid to the Virgin. The monasteries of nuns are busy with processions and celebrations in honour of '' the Mother of God," which are pleasantly carried on within their precincts, and seen only by female friends. Some- times you will meet a procession of ladies outside the gates, on foot, while their carriages come after in a long file. These are societies which are making the pilgrimage of the seven basilicas outside the walls. They set out early in the morning, stopping in each basilica for a half-hour to say their prayers, and return to Rome at Ave Maria. On every /^j-/dz-day during this month you will see at the comers of the streets a little improvised shrine of the rudest kind, or it may be only a little festooned print of the Madonna hung against the walls of some house, or against the back of a chair, and tended 1 78 ROB A DI ROMA. by two or three little girls, who hold out a plate to you as you pass, and beg for charity, sometimes in the most pertinacious way. These are the children of poor persons, who thus levy on the public a little sum to be expended in oil for the lamps before the Madonna shrines in the street or in the house. No street — and almost no house or shop — is without a shrine erected to her, where a little light is kept constantly burning, and over each is an inscrip- tion, generally in dog Latin, setting forth some of her titles, and commanding reverence or adoration from the passer. Here are placed fresh flowers ; and here may be seen at all hours of the day some poor person kneeling and saying her rosary. If an accident happens in the street it is to her that safety is owed, and straight- way thanks must be returned to her. Very commonly the person whose life has been in danger hangs an offering on her shrine in memory of the event. It is sometimes a rude picture representing the event itself, and sometimes it is a silver hand, leg, arm, or heart, to indicate that she has enabled a broken limb to mend, or as a sign of gratitude. If one is stricken by disease it is her aid that is invoked, and her favour is bought by promises of candles to be burned at her shrine, and if the person be rich, by costly offerings of diamond necklaces, crowns and brooches, which, in the event of recovery, are hung about her images and pictures. Nor is this done only by the ignorant and uneducated. On the road to Bello Sguardo may be seen a shrine erected to the Madonna by the late Grand Duke of Tuscany, in grateful recognition of her divine aid in saving on this spot the life of himself and two of his children, who were nearly killed here by a carriage. Even during health a continuance of her favour and protection is invoked by the same means — ^just as the ancient Romans implored the assistance of their gods, or commemorated their gratitude for past favours by votive offerings hung up in the temples. Some of the oldest effigies of the Virgin are rich in these presents ; and gems which are a fortune in themselves (unless the originals have been changed for paste imitations) may be seen glittering on their dark necks and bosoms. Indeed a malicious story runs that a mag- nificent necklace of diamonds worn by one of the Roman princesses once adorned the neck of a Madonna, and was sold by MAY— FORTUNE AND THE MADONNA. 179 the Church to its present owner. However this may be, the universal reverence paid by persons of all ranks to the Madonna is a striking feature of every Roman Catholic country, and in Rome, the head of Catholicism, it attains its height. Among the Roman people this worship of the Madonna is genuine and unaffected. Go where you will her image consecrates the place. On the walls of the stable, over the garden-gate, in the wineshop, the hovel, and the palace, it is everywhere to be seen, sometimes represented by a wretched coloured lithograph, sometimes by a black print, sometimes by a glazed tile, and sometimes by an antique head or figure, which has changed its name and worship. Unexpected transformations take place in Rome, and the statues of the ancient gods are sometimes received into the Church by a new and Christian baptism. For instance, on the road from the railway-station to Albano there is a little osteria where for many a year might be seen over the door a small antique figure in marble representing Fortune, half-seated and resting against a wheel behind it, while its eyes were blinded by a band. From this figure the osteria was called La Ciechina (the Blind Girl), and was known by this name to all the neighbour- hood. Mac was recounting this story in his amusing way the other day while walking up to Albano with a friend, and as they approached the osteria he turned round to point out the statue in corroboration of his story, saying, " There, you will see at once that it is an antique statue of Fortune," when suddenly he stopped, for nothing of the kind was visible. In its stead was a figure, manifestly antique, but representing the Madonna. The laugh was certainly against him at first, but he had the best of it at last, for a careful examination showed how the transformation had taken place. The band had been chiselled from Fortune's eyes, the upper circle of the wheel on which she stood had been broken away so as to leave only a small arc under her feet, and lo ! Fortune had changed into the Madonna standing upon the crescent, and is now worshipped in her niche over the door by the passing peasants, and has her novena played before her in December as if she had always been legitimately entitled to it. The Madonna is the special patron oi\kiQfilatrici{\S\Q spinners); i8o ROBA DI ROMA. and it is a pretty superstition among the peasantry in Italy that the dewy gossamers found on the grass in the morning are threads and fragments blown from her distaff. The swallows, too, are under her special favour, and to kill them brings ill-luck. In nearly all the cities of Tuscany, owing to this belief, swarms of swifts may be seen hurtling to and fro with a constant sharp whistle, and haunting with perfect impunity the tall campanili. In the great piazza at Siena and round the Campo tower they are so thick sometimes that it seems as if it was snowing swallows ; and in the eaves and under the grotesque spouts of the Duomo they make their nests and whirl through the arches with a pleasant familiarity. The doves of San Marco at Venice are also saved by a similar superstition. They haunt that superb piazza and the glittering pinnacles of the cathedral, floating to and fro in the soft blue air and alighting upon the manes of the bronze horses with entire fearlessness, and thus are not only safe from the destructive hand of man, but are fed at the public expense. All this is the more remarkable in Italy, where the people kill and eat every little bird that they can lay their hands upon. It is also a legend that the Madonna said to the serpent, " Will you be good to man?" and the serpent answered, " I will not." " Then crawl and trail on the ground for ever and be accursed," said she. And so it is. Then turning to the lizard she said, "Will you be good to man ? " and the lizard answered, " I will." " Then shall you have legs to run, and shall be loved and cherished." And so it is. And here I am reminded of an incident which illustrates the reverential habit of the Italians for the Madonna. R. was a young traveller, who on first coming to Rome brought a letter to M., who gave him many a glimpse into the familiar habits of the Italians, made pleasant his sojourn in Rome, and on his leaving for Naples, whispered some kindly hints and sketches of the Neapolitans. " Never was there so polite a people," said he, " and they expect you of course to be polite to them in turn. For instance, they never take their seat in front of you in any public place without saluting you and begging your pardon. If the lady at the opposite balcony shut her blind, she bows to you as if to MAY— J?. AND THE MADONNA SHRINE. i8i say, 'by your leave,' and to show you that she does not close them against you, and when this is done~take care to return the salutation, or you will run the risk of being thought to be ill-bred." Filled with this good counsel, off went R., carrying a letter to an English chemist there. Upon presenting his letter he found the chemist very busy preparing a prescription. "Pray excuse me for a quarter of an hour," said he, after the first salutation, " and then I am entirely at your service." R. lifted his hat, begged him to take his time, saying he would wait for him just outside the door, and amuse himself with what was passing in the street. Whenever the chemist glanced up from his work he observed R. saluting somebody, a fact which struck him as very odd, inasmuch as he supposed him to be a stranger in Naples. He said nothing, however, for some time, but finally his curiosity became so excited that he went to the door to see what his friend was about. There, to his amazement, he beheld him smiling and taking off his hat to every one that passed in so absurd a way that he cried out, "What under heavens are you about?" "Ah," said R., wiping his forehead, and freely perspiring with his exertions, "what a people, what a people ! I never saw anything like their polite- ness. Here have I been standing for nearly half an hour, and every person that passes touches his hat or takes it off and bows to me, recognizing me, I suppose, as a stranger and wishing to be polite to me. Upon my soul, it is finally getting to be rather a bore!" " Pofite to you!" cried the chemist; "just look up behind you, my friend, and you will see that you are standing under a Madonna shrine, and that all the passers-by are lifting their hats or making a salutation of reverence to that, and not out of politeness to you, so you need not bore yourself any longer." The great procession of the year takes place this month on Corpus Domini, and is well worth seeing, as being the finest and most characteristic of all the Church festivals. It was instituted in honour of the famous miracle at Bolsena, when the wafer dripped blood, and is, therefore, in commemoration of one of the cardinal doctrines of the Roman Church, Transubstantiation, and one of its most dogmatical miracles. The Papal procession takes place in the morning, in the piazza of Saint Peter's ; and if you i82 ROBA DI ROMA. would be sure of it, you must be on the spot as soon as eight o'clock at the latest. The whole circle of the piazza itself is covered with an awning, festooned gaily with garlands of box, under which the procession passes ) and the ground is covered with yellow sand, over which box and bay are strewn. The celebration commences with morning mass in the basilica, and that over, the procession issues from one door, and, making the whole circuit of the piazza, returns into the church. First come the Seminaj^tsti, or scholars and attendants of the various hospitals and charity- schools, such as San Michele and Santo Spirito, — all in white. Then follow the brown-cowled, long-bearded Franciscans, the white Carmelites, and the black Benedictines, bearing lighted candles and chanting hoarsely as they go. You may see pass before you now all the members of these different conventual orders that there are in Rome, and have an admirable opportunity to study their physiognomies in mass. If you are a convert to Romanism, you will perhaps find in their bald heads, shaven crowns, and bearded faces a noble expression of reverence and humility ; but, suffering as I do under the misfortune of being a heretic, I could but remark on their heads an enormous develop- ment of the two organs of reverence and firmness, and a singular deficiency in the upper forehead, while there was an almost universal enlargement of the lower jaw and of the base of the brain. Being, unfortunately, a friend of Phrenology, as well as a heretic, I drew no very auspicious augury from these develop- ments ; and looking into their faces, the physiognomical traits were narrow-mindedness, bigotry, or cunning. The Benedictine heads showed more intellect and will ; the Franciscans more dulness and good-nature. But while I am criticizing them, they are passing by, and a picturesque set of fellows they are. Much as I dislike the con- ventual creed, I should be sorry to see the costume disappear. Directly on the heels of their poverty come the three splendid triple crowns of the Pope, glittering with gorgeous jewels, borne in triumph on silken embroidered cushions, and preceded by the court jeweller. After them follow the chapters, canons, and choirs of the seven basilicas, chanting in lofty altos, solid basses, and clear ringing MAY— CORPUS DOMINI. 183 tenors from their old Church books, each basiHca bearing a typical tent of coloured stripes and a wooden campanile with a bell which is constantly rung. Next come the canons of the churches and the monsigftori, in splendid dresses and rich capes of beautiful lace falling below their waists ; the bishops clad in cloth of silver with mitres on their heads ; the cardinals brilliant in gold em- broidery and gleaming in the sun ; and at last the Pope himself, borne on a platform splendid with silver and gold, with a rich canopy over his head. Beneath this he kneels, or rather, seems to kneel ; for, though his costly draperies and train are skilfully arranged so as to present this semblance, being drawn behind him over two blocks which are so placed as to represent his heels, yet in fact he is seated on a sunken bench or chair, as any careful eye can plainly see. However, kneeling or sitting, just as you will, there he is, before an altar, holding up the ostia which is the corpus Do?mm, " the body of God," and surrrounded by officers of the Swiss guards in glittering armour, chamberlains in their beautiful black and Spanish dresses with ruffs and swords, attend- ants in scarlet and purple costumes, and the guardie nobili in their red dress uniforms. Nothing could be more striking than this group. It is the very type of the Church, — pompous, rich, splendid, imposing. After them follow the dragoons mounted, — first a company on black horses, then another on bays, and then a third on grays ; foot-soldiers with flashing bayonets bring up the rear, and close the procession. As the last soldiers enter the church, there is a stir among the gilt equipages of the cardinals which line one side of the piazza, — the horses toss their scarlet plumes, the liveried servants sway as the carriages lumber on, and you may spend a half-hour hunting out your own humble vehicle, if you have one, or throng homeward on foot with the crowd through the Borgo and over the bridge of Sant' Angelo. This grand procession strikes the key-note of all the others ; and in the afternoon each parish brings out its banners, arrays itself in its choicest dresses, and with pomp and music bears the ostia through the streets, the crowd kneeling before it, and the priests chanting. During the next ottava, or eight days, all the processions take place in honour of this festival ; and the week i84 ROBA DI ROMA. having passed, everything ends with the Papal procession in Saint Peter's piazza, when, without music, and with uncovered heads, the Pope, cardinals, monsignori, canons, and the rest of the priests and officials, make the round of the piazza, bearing great Church banners. One of the most striking of their celebrations took place this 3'ear at the church of San Rocco in the Ripetta, when the church was made splendid with lighted candles and gold bands, and a preacher held forth to a crowded audience in the afternoon. At Ave Maria there was a great procession, with banners, music, and torches, and all the evening the people sauntered to and fro in crowds before the church, where a platform was erected and draped with old tapestries, from which a band played constantly. Do not believe, my dear Presbyterian friend, that these spectacles fail deeply to affect the common mind. So long as human nature remains the same, this splendour and pomp of processions, these lighted torches and ornamented churches, this triumphant music and glad holiday of religion will attract more than your plain con- venticles, your ugly meeting-houses, and your compromise with the base-viol. For my own part, I do not believe that music and painting and all the other arts really belong to the Devil, or that God gave him joy and beauty to deceive with, and kept only the ugly, sour, and sad for Himself We are always better when we are happy ; and we are about as sure of being good when we are happy, as of being happy when we are good. Cheerfulness and happiness are, in my humble opinion, duties and habits to be cultivated ; but, if you don't think so, I certainly would not deny you the privilege of being wretched ; don't let us quarrel about it. Rather let us turn to the Artists' Festival, which takes place in this month, and is one of the great attractions of the season. Formerly, this festival took place at Cerbara, an ancient Etruscan town on the Campagna, of which only certain subterranean caves remain. But during the revolutionary days which followed the disasters of 1848, it was suspended for two or three years by the interdict of the Papal government, and when it was again insti- tuted, the place of the meeting was changed to Fidenas, the site of another Etruscan town, with similar subterranean excavations, MAY— ARTISTS' FESTIVAL. 185 which were made the head-quarters of the festival. But the new railway to Bologna having been laid out directly over this ground, the artists have been again driven away, and this year the festa was held, for the first time, in the groves of Egeria, one of the most beautiful spots on the whole Campagna, — and here it is to be hoped it will have an abiding rest. This festival was instituted by the German artists, and, though the artists of all nations now join in it, the Germans still remain its special patrons and directors. Early in the morning, the artists rendezvous at an appointed osteria outside the walls, dressed in every sort of grotesque and ludicrous costume which can be imagined. All the old dresses which can be rummaged out of the studios or theatres, or pieced together from masking ward- robes, are now in requisition. Indians and Chinese, ancient warriors and mediaeval heroes, miUtia-men and Punches, generals in top-boots and pig-tails, doctors in gigantic wigs and small- clothes, Falstaffs and justices "with fair round belly wdth good capon lined," magnificent foolscaps, wooden swords with terrible inscriptions, gigantic chapeaux with plumes made of vegetables — in a word, every imaginable absurdity is to be seen. Arrived at the place of rendezvous, they all breakfast, and then the line of march is arranged. A great wooden cart adorned with quaint devices, and garlanded with laurel and bay, bears the president and committee. This is drawn by great white oxen, who are decorated with wreaths and flowers and gay trappings, and from it floats the noble banner of Cerbara or Fidense. After this follows a strange and motley train, — some mounted on donkeys, some on horses, and some afoot, — and the line of march is taken up for the grove of Egeria. What mad jests and wild fun now take place it is impossible to describe ; suffice it to say, that all are glad of a little rest when they reach their destination. Now begin to stream out from the city hundreds of carriages, — for all the world will be abroad to-day to see, — and soon the green slopes are swarming with gay crowds. Some bring with them a hamper of provisions and wine, and, spreading them on the grass, lunch and dine when and where they will ; but those who would dine with the artists must have the order of the mezzo i86 ROBA DI ROMA. baiocco hanging to their buttonhole, which is distributed previously in Rome to all the artists who purchase tickets. Some few there are who also bear upon their breasts the nobler medal of iroppo 7?ierito, gained on previous days, and these are looked upon with due reverence. But before dinner or lunch there is a high ceremony to take place, — the great feature of the day. It is the mock-heroic play. This year (1858) it was the meeting of Numa with the nymph Egeria at the grotto ; and thither went the festive procession ; and the priests, befilleted and draped in white, burned upon the altar as a sacrifice a great toy sheep, whose wool "smelt to heaven;" and then from the niches suddenly appeared Numa, a gallant German in spectacles, with Egeria, a Spanish artist with white dress and fillet, who made vows over the smoking sheep, and were escorted back to the sacred grove with festal music by a joyous, turbulent crowd. Last year, however, at Fidenae, it was better. We had a travesty of the taking of Troy, which was eminently ludicrous, and which deserves a better description than I can give. Troy was a place enclosed within paper barriers, about breast-high, painted "to present a wall," and within these were the Trojans, clad in red, and all wearing gigantic paper helmets. There was old Priam, in spectacles, with his crown and robes ; Laocoon, in white, with a white wool beard and wig ; Ulysses, in a long, yellow beard and mantle ; and ^neas, with a bald head, in a blue, long-tailed coat, and tall dickey, looking like the traditional Englishman in the circus who comes to hire the horse. The Grecians were encamped at a short distance. All had round, basket-work shields, — some with their names painted on them in great letters, and some with an odd device, such as a cat or pig. There were Ulysses, Agamem- non, Ajax, Nestor, Patroclus, Diomedes, Achilles, " all honourable men." The drama commenced with the issuing of Paris and Helen from the walls of Troy, he in a tall, black French hat, girdled with a gilt crown, and she in a white dress, with a great wig dropping round her face a profusion of carroty curls. Queer figures enough they were, as they stepped along together, carica- turing love in a pantomime, he making terrible demonstrations of MAY— TAKING OF TROY AT FIDENJi. 187 his ardent passion, and she finally faUing on his neck in rapture. Hiis over, they seated themselves near by two large pasteboard rocks, he sitting on his shield and taking out his flute to play to her, while she brought forth her knitting and ogled him as he played. While they were thus engaged, came creeping up with the stage stride of a double step, and dragging one foot behind him, Menelaus, whom Thersites had, meantime, been taunting by pointing at him two great ox-horns. He walked all round the lovers, pantomiming rage and jealousy in the accredited ballet style and suddenly approaching, crushed poor Paris's great black hat down over his eyes. Both, very much frightened, then took to their heels and rushed into the city, while Menelaus, after shaking Paris's shield in defiance at the walls, retired to the Grecian camp. Then came the preparations for battle. The Trojans leaned over their paper battlements, with their fingers to their noses, twiddling them in scorn, while the Greeks shook their fists back at them. The battle now commenced on the " ringing plains of Troy," and was eminently ludicrous. Paris, in hat and pantaloons {d, la mode de Farts), soon showed the white feather, and incontinently fled. Everybody hit nowhere, fiercely striking the ground or the shields, and always carefully avoiding, as on the stage, to hit in the right place. At last, however, Patroclus was killed, whereupon the battle was suspended, and a grand tableau of surprise and horror took place, from which they soon recovered, and the Greeks prepared to carry him off" on their shoulders. Terrible to behold was the grief of Achilles. Homer himself would have wept to see him. He flung himself on the body, and shrieked, and tore his hair, and violently shook the corpse, which, under such demonstrations, now and then kicked up. Finally he rises and challenges Hector to single combat, and out comes the valiant Trojan, and a duel ensues with wooden axes. Such blows and counter blows were never seen, only they never hit, but often whirled the warrior who dealt them com- pletely round ; they tumbled over their own blows, panted with feigned rage, lost their robes and great pasteboard helmets, and were even more absurd than any Richmond and Richard on the country boards of a fifth-rate theatre. But Hector is at last i88 ROBA DI ROMA. slain and borne away, and a ludicrous lay figure is laid out to represent him, with bunged-up eyes and a general flabbiness of body and want of features, charming to behold. On their necks the Trojans bear him to their walls, and with a sudden jerk pitch him over them head first, and he tumbles in a heap into the city. Ulysses then harangues the Greeks. He has brought out a quarteruola cask of wine, which, with most expressive pantomime, he shows to be the wooden horse that must be carried into Troy. His proposition is joyfully accepted, and accompanied by all he rolls the cask up to the walls, and, flourishing a tin cup in one hand, invites the Trojans to partake. At first there is confusion in the city, and fingers are twiddled over the walls, but after a time all go out and drink and become ludicrously drunk, and stagger about, embracing each other in the most maudlin style. Even Helen herself comes out, gets tipsy with the rest, and dances about like the most disreputable of Maenades. A great scena, however, takes place as they are about to drink. Laocoon, got up in white wool, appears, and violently endeavours to dissuade them, but in vain. In the midst of his harangue long strings of blown-up sausage-skins are dragged in for the serpents, and suddenly cast about his neck. His sons and he then form a group, the sausage-snakes are twined about them, — only the old story is reversed, and he bites the serpents, instead of the serpents biting him, — and all die in agony, travestying the ancient group. All being now drunk go in, and Ulysses with them. A quantity of straw is kindled, the smoke rises, the Greeks approach and dash in the paper walls with clubs, and all is confusion. Then ^neas, in his blue, long-tailed circus-coat, broad white hat, and tall shirt- collar, carries off old Anchises on his shoulders with a cigar in his mouth, and bears him to a painted section of a vessel, which is rocked to and fro by hand, as if violently agitated by the waves. ^2neas and Anchises enter the boat, or rather stand behind it so as to conceal their legs, and off it sets, rocked to and fro constantly, — ^olus and Tramontana following behind, with bellows to blow up a wind, and Fair Weather, with his name written on his back, accompanying them. The violent motion, however, soon makes ^^^neas sick, and as he leans over the side in a helpless and MAY— IN THE VILLAS. 189 melancholy manner, and almost gives up the ghost, as well as more material things, the crowd burst into laughter. However, at last they reach two painted rocks, and found Latium, and a general rejoicing takes place. The donkey who was to have ended all by dragging the body of Hector round the walls came too late, and this part of the programme did not take place. So much of the entertainment over, preparations are made for dinner. In the grove of Egeria the plates are spread in circles, while all the company sing part-songs and dance. At last all is ready, the signal is given, and the feast takes place after the most rustic manner. Great barrels of wine covered with green branches stand at one side, from which flagons are filled and passed round, and the good appetites soon make direful gaps in the beef and mighty plates of lettuce. After this, and a little sauntering about for digestion's sake, come the afternoon sports. And there are donkey-races, and tilting at a ring, and foot-races, and running in sacks. Nothmg can be more picturesque than the scene, with its motley masqueraders, its crowds of spectators seated along the slopes, its little tents here and there, its races in the valley, and, above all, the glorious mountains looking down from the distance. Not till the golden light slopes over the Campagna, gilding the skeletons of aqueducts, and drawing a delicate veil of beauty over the mountains, can we tear ourselves away, and rattle back in our carriage to Rome. The wealthy Roman families, who have villas in the immediate vicinity of Rome, now leave the city to spend a month in them and breathe the fresh air of spring. Many and many a trades- man who is well to do in the world has a little vineyard outside the gates, where he raises vegetables, grapes, and other fruits ; and every y^^^^day you will be sure to find him and his family out in his little villetta, wandering about the grounds or sitting beneath his arbours, smoking and chatting with his children around him. His friends who have no villas of their own here visit him, and often there is a considerable company thus collected, who, if one may judge from their cheerful countenances and much laughter, enjoy themselves mightily. Knock at any of these villa-gates, I90 ROBA DI ROMA. and, if you happen to have the acquaintance of the owner, or are evidently a stranger of respectability, you will be received with much hospitality, invited to partake of the fruit and wine, and overwhelmed with thanks for your gentilezza when you take your leave ; for the Italians are a most good-natured and social people, and nothing pleases them better than a stranger who breaks the common round of topics by accounts of his own land. Every- thing new is to them wonderful, just as it is to a child. They are credulous of everything you tell them about America, which is to them in some measure what it was to the English in the days of Raleigh, Drake, and Hawkins, and say '''' Per Bacco !^^ to every new statement. And they are so magnificently ignorant, that you have carte blanche for your stories. Never did I know any one staggered by anything I chose to say, but once, and then I stated a simple fact. I was walking with my respectable old padrone Nisi, about his little garden one day, when an ambition to know something about America inflamed his breast. "Are there any mountains?" he asked. I told him " Yes," and, with a chuckle of delight, he cried, — " Per Bacco ! And have you any cities ? " " Yes, a few little ones." He was evidently pleased that they were small, and, swelling with natural pride, said, — " Large as Rome, of course, they could not be ; " then, after a moment, he added, interrogatively, "And rivers too, — have you any rivers ? " " A few," I answered. " But not as large as our Tiber," he replied, — feeling assured that, if the cities were smaller than Rome, as a necessary con- sequence, the rivers that flowed by them must be in the same category. The bait now offered was too tempting, and I was foolish enough to say, — "We have some rivers three thousand miles long." I had scarcely said these words when I regretted them. He stood and stared at me, as if petrified, for a moment. Then the blood rushed into his face, and, turning on his heel, he took off his hat, said suddenly, " Buona sera" and carried my fact and his A/A V— VELLINTONI^ COL UMB US. 1 9 1 opinions together up into his private room. I am afraid that Scr Pietro decided, on consideration, tliat I had been taking unwar- rantable hberties with him, and exceeding all proper bounds, in my attempt to impose on his good-nature. From that time forward he asked me no more questions about America. And here, by the way, I am reminded of an incident which, though not exactly pertinent, may find here a parenthetical place, merely as illustrating some points of Italian character. One fact and two names relating to America they know universally, — Columbus and his discovery of America, and Washington. " SI, S/g/iore," said a respectable person some time since, as he was driving me to see a carriage which he wished to sell me, and therefore desired to be particularly polite to me and my nation, — "a great man your Vashintoni! but I was sorry to hear, the other day, that his father had died in London." - "His father dead, and in London?" I stammered, completely confounded at this extraordinary news, and fearing lest I had been too stupid in misunderstanding him. '• Yes," he said, " it is too true that his father Vellintoni is dead. I read it in the Diario di Roma^ The Italians have also a sort of personal pride in America, on the ground that it was discovered by an Italian, without whom, c/n sa if we should ever have been discovered, and also, if they happen to know the fact, because Botta wrote a history of it. In going from Leghorn to Genoa, I once met a good-humoured Frate, who, having discovered that I was an American, fraternised with me, kindly offered me snuff, and at once began, as usual, a dis- course on Columbus. So he informed me that Columbus was an Italian, and that he had discovered America, and was a remark- able man ; to all of which I readily assented, as being true, if not new. But now a severe abstract question began to tax my friend's powers. He said, " But how could he ever have imagined that the continent of America was there ? That's the question. It is extraordinary indeed ! " And so he sat cogitating, and saying, at intervals, " Curioso ! Str aor dinar io !'' At last "a light broke in upon his brain." His face lightened, and, looking at me, he said, 192 ROB A DI ROMA. " Oh ! he must have read that it was there in some old book, and so went to see if it were true or not." Vainly I endeavoured to show him that this view would deprive Columbus of his greatest distinction. He answered invariably, ^^ Si / Si/ ma, via. But without having read it, how could he ever have known it ? " — thus putting the earth upon the tortoise and leaving the tortoise to account for his own support. Imagine that I have told you these stories sitting under the vine and fig-tree of some little villa, while Angiolina has gone to call the padrone, who will only be too glad to see you. But, ecco ! at last OUT padrone comes. No, it is not th.^ padrone, it is the vignaruolo, who takes care of his grapes and garden, and who recognizes us as friends of the padrone, and tells us that we are ourselves padroni of the whole place, and offers us all sorts of fmits. One old custom, which existed in Rome some fifteen years ago, has now passed away with other good old things. It was the cele- bration of the Fravolata or Strawberry- Feast, when men in gala- dress at the height of the strawberry season went in procession through the streets, carrying on their heads enormous wooden platters heaped with this delicious fruit, accompanied by girls in costume, who, beating their ta?7ibureni, danced along at their sides and sang the praises of the strawberry. After threading the streets of the city, they passed singing out of the gates, and at different places on the Campagna spent the day in festive sports and had an out-door dinner and dance. Through time out of mind May is not the month to marry in, yet it is undoubtedly the approved month to make love in.* Marry in June was the ancient rule, for June was consecrated to Juno, who presided over marriages, but love in May, when the earth is breaking forth into blossom, leaf, and flower, and honours are paid to the Bona Dea. This beautiful month was formerly celebrated by many festivals and games, not all of them of a very decorous character, when Fescennine verses were recited or sung in alternation by the peasants, and reminiscences of some of them may still be recognized in various parts of Italy ; one of them, for instance, may * " Mense malas Majo nubere vulgus ait," — says Ovid, MA Y—INFIORA TA—SALTERELLO. 193 be seen in the " Infiorata," or Flower-festival, which is celebrated every May in the picturesque town of Genzano that lies over the old crater now filled by the still waters of Lake Nemi. It takes place on the eighth day of the Corpus Domini, and is supposed to receive its name from the popular custom of spreading flowers upon the pavements of the streets so as to represent heraldic devices, figures, arabesques, and all sorts of ornamental designs ; but in fact it seems only a relic of the ancient Eloralia, or Ludi Florales^ formerly celebrated in honour of Flora during five days, beginning on the 28th of April and ending on the 2nd of May. The ancient goddess has scarcely changed her name, and under her Catholic baptism of Madon7ia del Fiori she still presides over these rites; but the licen- tiousness which formerly characterized this festival has passed away, and only the fun, the flowers, and the gaiety remain. On this occasion the people are all dressed in their eff'ective costumes, — the girls in bodices and silken skirts, with all their corals and jewels on, and the men with white stockings on their legs, their velvet jackets dropping over one shoulder, and flowers and rosettes in their conical hats. The town is then very gay, the bells clang, the incense steams from the censer in the church, where the organ peals and mass is said, and a brilliant procession marches over the strewn flower-mosaic, with music and crucifixes and Church-banners. Hundreds of strangers, too, are there to look on ; and on the Cesarini Piazza and under the shadow of the long avenues of ilexes that lead to the tower are hundreds of handsome girls, with their snowy tovaglie peakqd over their heads. The rub and thrum of tambourines and the clicking of castanets are heard, too, as twilight comes on, and the saltcrello is danced by many a group. This is the national Roman dance, and is named from the little jumping step which characterizes it. Any number of couples dance it, though the dance is perfect with two. Some of the movements are very graceful and piquant, and particularly that where one of the dancers kneels and whirls her arms on high, clicking her castanets, while the other circles her round and round, striking his hands together, and approaching nearer and nearer, till he is ready to give her a kiss, which she refuses. Of course it is the old story of every national dance, — love and repulse, love and repulse, o 194 ROB A DI ROMA. until the maiden yields. As one couple panting and rosy retires, another fresh one takes its place, while the bystanders play on the accordion the whirling, circling, never-ending tune of the Taran- tella, which would " put a spirit of youth in everything." If you are tired of the festival, roam up a few paces out of the crowd, and you stand upon the brink of Lake Nemi. Over oppo- site, and crowning the height where the little town of Nemi perches, frowns the old feudal castle of the Colonna, with its tall, round tower, where many a princely family has dwelt, and many an un- princely act has been done. There, in turn, have dwelt the Colonna, Borgia, Piccolomini, Cenci, Frangipani, and Braschi, and there the descendants of the last-named family still pass a few weeks in the summer. On the Genzano side stands the castellated villa of the Cesarini Sforza, looking peacefully across the lake at the rival tower, which in the old baronial days it used to challenge, — and in its garden pond you may see stately white swans " rowing their way with oary feet " along. Below you, silent and silvery, lies the lake itself, — and rising around it, like a green bowl, tower its richly-wooded banks, covered with gigantic oaks, ilexes, and chestnuts. This was the ancient grove dedicated to Diana, which extended to L'Ariccia ; and here are still to be seen the vestiges of an ancient villa built by Julius Caesar. Here, too, if you trust some of the antiquaries, once stood the temple of Diana Nemor- ensis,* where human sacrifices were offered, and whose chief-priest, called Rex Ne?nof'ensts, obtained his office by slaying his prede- cessor, and reigned over these groves by force of his personal arm. Times have, indeed, changed since the priesthood was thus won and baptized by blood ; and as you stand there, and look, on the one side, at the site of this ancient temple, which some of the gigantic chestnut-trees may almost have seen in their youth, and, on the other side, at the campanile of the Catholic church at Genzano, with its flower-strewn pavements, you may have as sharp a contrast between the past and the present as can easily be found. Other relics of the ancient Floralia exist also in various places, * The better opinion of late seems to be that it was on the slopes of the Val d'Arricia. But " who shall decide, when doctors disagree ? " MAY—MAGGI. 195 and particularly among the mountains of Pistoia, where the people celebrate the return of spring on the first of May, and sing a peculiar song in honour of the month of flowers, called a Alaggio- On the last evening of April the festivities commence. Bands of young men then gather together, and with singing and music make a procession through the villages and towns. Some carry a leaf-stripped tree, adorned with flowers and lemons, called the Maio, and others carry baskets filled with nosegays. These, as they march along, they distribute to the matrons and maids, who, in return, present wine, eggs, and a kind o^ Jumble cake, called Berlingozzo, cut in rings and decorated with red tassels. Money is also given, all of which is dedicated to masses and prayers for the souls in purgatory. The Maggi they sing have existed so long that the memory of man runneth not to the contrary, and are as follows : — '* Siam venuti a salutare Questa casa di valore, Che s' e fatta sempre onore ; E pero vogliam cantare — Salutiam prima il padrone, Poi di casa la sua sposa — Noi sappiam ch' egli e in Maremma ; Dio lo sa, e ve lo mantenga ! " And also this other : — ** Or e di maggio, e fioritoe il limone ; Noi salutiamo di casa il padrone. Or e di maggio, e gli e fiorito i rami ; Salutiam le ragazze co' suoi dami. Or e di maggio, che fiorito e i fiori ; Salutiam le ragazze co' suoi amori." These may roughly be Englished thus : — " We come our salute to bring To this brave house and good, Whose honour unshaken has stood, And therefore we come to sing : And first we salute the master, And then his excellent wife ; We know he's in the Maremma ; God grant them a good long life \ " 196 ROBA DI ROMA. *' May is come, and the lemon's in bloom ; Health to the master here in his home ! May is come, and the branches swell ; Health to the girls, and their lovers as well t May is come, and the flowers are in blossom ; Health to the girls, with love in their bosom ! " Sometimes in these processions of the Maggio the peasants, accompanied by oxen gaily decorated with branches of olive, silken ribbons, sheafs of grain, and silver bells, went through the fields, singing and reciting verses to invoke good luck and full harvests ; and in some places a band of women, preceded by one of their company richly dressed, and called La Maggta, made the tour of the town or village, and accepted the gifts which on all sides were then presented in honour of the occasion ; or men and women gaily dressed, and accompanied by music, visited the palaces of the nobility, carrying banners with their arms em- broidered or painted on them. Just as in the time of Athenseus ancient Greek lovers garlanded the doors of Grecian maids, so peasant lovers in Italy used, on the first of May, to go early in the morning to the houses of their sweethearts, and plant before the door a branch of laburnum or olive, or flowering shrub, and sing their Maggi; and the maidens and girls with their lovers used to assemble in some grove, and dance and sing together on this festival. One of these Maggi, written by Angelo Poliziano, may be found in a collection of songs by him and Lorenzo dei Medici, which is very pretty and graceful. In the frontispiece of the edition of 1568 there is an engraving representing twelve damsels in a ring, holding each other's hands and singing, while beside them stands La Maggia with the Majo in her hand ; and near her, another woman, who is asking for the customary vail. The Maggio is as follows : — Ben venga Maggio E '1 gonfalon selvaggio ; Ben venga Primavera Che ognun par che innamori ; E voi Donzelle a schiera Con vostri amadori, Che di rose e di liori Ve fate belle il Maggio, MAY—MAGGIO BY POLTZJANO. 197 Venitc alia frescura Dclli verdi arboscelli ; OgTii bella h sicura Fra tanti damigelli ; Che Ic fiere e gli uccelli Ardon d* amore il Maggio. Chi e giovane, chi h bella, Deh ! non sia punto acerba. Che non si rinnovella L' et^, come fa 1' erba ; Nessuna stia superba Air amadore il Maggie. Ciascuna balli e canti Di questa schiera nostra ; Ecco e' dodici amanti Che per voi vanno in giostra ; Qual dura allor si mostra Fara sfiorire il Maggie. Per prender le donzelle Si son gli amanti armati ; Arrendetevi, o belle, A vostri innamorati ! Rendete i cuor furati, Non fate giierra il Maggio. Chi 1' altrui core invola, Ad altri doni il core ! Ma chi e quel che vela ? E' r angiolel d' amore Che viene a far onore Con voi, donzelle, il Maggio. Amor ne vien ridendo, Con rose e gigli in testa : E vien a voi caende, P'ategli, o belle, festa ; Qual sara la piii presta A dargli il fior di Maggio ? Ben venga il peregrine ! Amor che ne commandi ? Che al sue amante il crino Ogni bella ingrillandi, Che le zittelle e i grandi S' innamoran di Maggio. 198 ROB A DI ROMA. Welcome, May, and welcome, Spring, With your gonfalons of green, Waking love in everything Where your festive shapes are seen. Maidens, here your lovers bring, And with flowers and roses gay, Come, adorn yourselves for May. Come into the cool green shade. To the leafy grove repair ; No one need be here afraid, 'Mid so many maidens fair. Beasts on earth, and birds in air. All are filled with love by May. Who is young, and who is fair, Let her not be harsh and sour ; Youth, once vanished from us, ne'er Blooms again as blooms a flower : And let no one at this hour Nourish a hard heart in May. Come, — let all our little band Join in festive song and dance ; Here a dozen lovers stand. Who for you would break a lance. And let none with sneers'or taunts Spoil for us our merry May. Here, all around you, lovers stand, Ready each his maid to take ; Come, surrender heart and hand. Yield to them for love's sweet sake. Since your hearts they've stolen, make No defensive war in May. Who has filched another's heart. Let her give to him her own ; So to steal, who has the art, But the angel Love alone ? Love, oh damsels, be it known. Comes with you to honour May. Love, who smiling comes and wears Roses, lilies, on his brow, Here in search of you repairs ; Unto him all honour show. Who'll be first to give him now. Gentle maids, the flower of May ? MAY—MAGGIO. 199 Welcome, Love, oh, pilgrim dear, Say what sweet command is thine ? — Let each maiden round the hair Of her love a garland twine ; Young and old, oh, maidens mine, Love each other all in May. CHAPTER VIII GAFFES AND THEATRES. Italians are a (Td^^^-frequenting and a theatre-going people. No city is so small that it has not its theatre, and no town so insignificant as to be without its cafft. As the lion has its jackal, the shark its pilot-fish, the crab its pinna, so the theatre is sure to have its one caffe at least stuck to it, and living upon it. The caffe is the social exchange of the country towns. There every evening may be seen groups of the middle classes gathered about little marble-topped tables, interchanging small talk in loud voices, playing dominos, smoking, sipping coffee or bibite^ and speUing out the little miserable sheets which are the apologies of the government for newspapers, and which contain nothing you wish to know, and much you wish not to know. The waiters are always crying out " Vengo, vengo, subito,'^ and thrusting with a clash metal trays, covered with cups and glasses, on to marble tables. The visitors are as constantly crying out for the " bottega " (for so the waiter is euphuistically called), and rapping on the tinkling glasses to attract his attention. In Rome the number of caffh is legion ; no street is without them ; and each of these has its special class of regular customers. There is the Caffe dei Scacchi, where chess-players go and discuss this game theoretically and practically ; the Caffe of the Liberali, who show their liberal views principally by going there, and speaking sotto voce; the CafF^ of the Codini, where queues and tricornered black hats gather, and speak in louder and more assured tones ; the Caff^ Nazzari, where strangers meet and pay a third more than is paid elsewhere, simply because they are strangers ; and the Caff^ Greco, where artists meet and discuss subjects of art, pictures, CAFFES AND THEATRES. 201 and statues, read the French newspapers and Galignam', and fill the air of the crowded little rooms with tobacco-smoke. There you may see every night representatives of art from all parts of the world, in all kinds of hats, from the conical black felt, with its velvet ribbon, to the stiff French stove-pipe ; and in every variety of coat, from the Polish and German nondescript, all befrogged and tagged, to the shabby American dress-coat, with crumpled tails ; and with every cut of hair and beard, from that of Peter the Hermit, unkempt and uncut, to the moustache and pointed beard of Anthony Vandyck. Peeping in there, one is sometimes tempted to consider philosophically what innate connection there is between genius for art, and long uncombed hair, and untidy beards. This question I have never answered satisfactorily to myself, and I recommend the subject to some German friend, who will go to the root of the matter. The caffh and theatre are to the mass of Italians of the present day what the iogge were to their ancestors in the great days of Tuscany. In the public iogge the people met and discussed their affairs as on a social or political exchange. But times have changed, and the caffe has usurped the place of those magnificent old Iogge, which still form so striking a feature of many of the Italian cities. The people who thronged under the noble arches of Orgagna's " Loggia dei Lanzi," at Florence, now meet at Doney's, and have surrendered the place to the Perseus of Cellini, the Rape of the Sabines, by Giovanni di Bologna, and other aged com- panions in marble and bronze. So, too, at Siena, opposite to the " Casino Nobile," whose loggia, rich with carving and statues, forms one of the most imposing features of that curious mediaeval city, stands the Caffe Greco of to-day, and disputes precedence with it successfully. In like manner, the box at the theatre has taken the place of the private ioggia, which was once attached to every noble's palace, and beneath whose shade the Signoria received their friends in summer and transacted their business. Some of these iogge were celebrated for these social amusements and for the sharpness of their epigrams, scandal, and satire. At some, gambling was carried on to such excess, that the government at 202 ROBA DI ROMA, last was forced to interfere, and prohibit the practice. Others, again, as the " Loggia degli Agolanti," achieved a reputation for match-making, so that it was said of it, '■'' Si potea star sicuro di non far casaccia /z" — one may be sure of not making a bad match there. Such was the number of happy marriages there arranged, that the site of the house received at last the name of the " Canto del Paretitado " — the marriage corner. At the " Loggia del Rucellai," on the contrary, the leading spirits of the age met to discuss questions of politics and philosophy. There, too, were hatched dangerous plots against the State. The master mind of all who frequented the gardens and Loggia dei Rucellai was Nicolo Macchiavelli, who in the shadow of his own private con- victions, unknown then as now, discussed in the coterie there assembled the principles which have given so sinister a character to his name. Here also might be seen Jacopo Pitti, the senator, and author of the ^' Istoria Fiorentina," together with his fellow- historian and Senator Filippo de' Nerli, to whom Macchiavelli dedicated his lines on Opportunity, and to whose family Dante alludes in these lines : — ** E vidi quel de' Nerli e quel del Vecchio Esser contenti alia pella scoverta, E le sue donne al fuso ed al pennecchio. " These gardens still exist under the name of the Orti Orcellari, though the voices of the past are heard there no more. And should any wandering ghost by chance revisit his old haunts, he would surely be scared away by the shrill whistle of the locomotive as it rattles through them on its way from Florence to Pistoia. But if those famous assemblies no longer meet at the logge to talk scandal, make visits, arrange matches, and discuss politics, modern society in Rome meets for similar purposes in the loge of the theatre. And here the various classes are distinguished and separated by different theatres, as well as different tiers in the same theatre. To the Italians, not only " all the world's a stage," but every stage is a world. For high and low, rich and poor, prince and peasant, there is a theatre ; and no one need deprive CAFFES AND THEATRES IN ROME. 203 himself of this amusement so long as he has two baiocchi in his pocket. First, comes the Apollo, or Tor di Nona Theatre, which is exclusively devoted to the opera, and the masked balls of Carnival; then follow the Valle and Aliberti, where prose and music alternate, and the drama is played by an excellent com- pany ; the Argentina, which is a degree lower, and dedicated to comedy, farce, and a second-rate opera; the Capranica, where melodrama raves, and jugglery throws its highest balls ; and the little Metastasio, where tragedy and comedy are performed ; some- times by a French, and sometimes by an Italian company. Besides these, are theatres of a lower grade for the people : the Vallino, where one can hear tolerable acting, in a small, but clean house, for five baiocchi^ and where actors make their dcbui in Rome, and train for the higher boards ; the Emiliano in the Piazza Navona, where puppets perform; and last, and lowest of all, the Fico, which is frequented solely by the lowest classes. The prices of a seat vary very much, and depends not only on the theatre but on the season. The amusement is, however, cheap ; — even at the largest and most fashionable, a numbered seat in the pit only costs three pauls (thirty cents), and a box, holding four or five persons comfortably, may be ordinarily obtained for two or three scudi\kv^ night, or for from fifty to sixty scudi the season. The boxes in all the theatres are completely separated from each other by partitions from floor to ceiling, and must be taken entire, no single seats being sold in them, as in the French and American theatres, where the tiers are open. The Apollo, or, as it is commonly called, the Tor di Nona, is the most fashionable theatre in Rome, and here alone, of all the Roman theatres, full dress is required. The second tier of boxes, called the ordiiie nobile^ is occupied exclusively by the nobility, ambassadors, and ministers, who have the right of choice, according to their rank, and precedency of title and appointment. The distribution of boxes among them is, it may well be imagined, anything but easy, and the impresario is often put to his wits' end to satisfy the demands of all. As the practice is not to vary the opera every evening, but to give only a fixed number of operas during the season, and to repeat the same for many consecutive 204 ROBA ni ROMA. nights, a box every night is not generally desired by any one, and it is the custom to take only a half or quarter box. By this is intended, however, not a portion of a box every night, but a whole box for one or two nights out of every four. By this arrangement, quarter boxes may be taken at several theatres for the same price that a whole box would cost at one, and the amusement is in this way varied. The first and third nights are generally taken by the nobility, and for these there is a great struggle among those who are not originally entitled to them, great diplomacy being used to obtain them, and heart-burnings often following want of success. Not only the ordine nobile is ahomte for the season, but also the principal boxes in the other tiers, and many of the seats in the pit. When the company is good, and the operas promised are favourites, the best boxes and seats are all taken before the season com- mences. The abonnes of the pit are young men about town — artists, shopkeepers, and generally any single person, from the guardia nobile to the barber. No lady sits in the pit ox parquet, and if one be seen there she is at once recognized as a stranger, not aware of the etiquette of a Roman theatre. She will, how- ever, be always treated with courtesy, and will never imagine from the bearing of the people towards her that she is out of place. Women of the lower classes in Rome are constantly seen there. The great mass, however, are men who, in the intervals between the acts, are levelling with white-gloved hands the opera-glasses they have hired at the door at all the boxes from floor to ceiling. During the performance they have a vile custom of humming audibly the airs which are sung on the stage, keeping about a note a-head of the singer, as if they were prompting, but this does not seem to annoy their neighbours, unless the latter happen to be strangers or accidental visitors. The seats here are narrow, hard, uncushioned, and by no means comfortable ; but the Italians neither complain of this, nor of the terrible smoke of oil-lamps, which have not yet given way to gas in some of the theatres. There is this odd peculiarity among Italians, that though they are not sensitive to bad odours, such as the smoke of an oil-lamp, the hot, thick human odour of a crowd, or the reek of garlic, yet they THEATRES— BOXES. 205 have a general dislike to what we call " perfumes," which they rarely use, and are fastidious even about the scent of flowers, which they consider to be neither agreeable nor wholesome in a close room. If you have foolishly (for the Italians are right in this) placed a bouquet of flowers in your sleeping-room, it is nine chances to one that your chamber-maid will throw it at once out of the window, without even consulting you. It is not ordinarily difficult to procure a box for a night at any of the theatres, unless there be some very unusual attraction, for when- ever the owners of boxes have other engagements for the evening, as it happens to a certain number nightly, they send the key of their box to the oflice to be sold on their account ; and, on even a night of special interest, the houses are so large that it is rare to find all the boxes on the second and third tiers occupied. The boxes are ill-furnished, with common straw-bottomed chairs without arms, sometimes a mirror, and generally a velvet cushion in front on which to rest the elbow or arm or to place the opera- glass; no carpets are on the brick floors, which, in the winter season, numb one's feet with cold. One of the servants of the theatre, however, always comes to the box to offer footstools, for the use of which he asks a few baiocchi. But comfort is not an Italian word, nor an Italian thing ; and if you are dissatisfied, and begin to grumble at the desolate and cold boxes, and contrast it with the cushioned and carpeted ones at home, please to pause and count the cost of that comfort, and remember, that here you pay three sixpences and there a guinea to hear the same singers. I was never so struck by this as once on coming from Italy into France. I had just been hearing the '' Trovatore " sung by the troupe, in which were Beaucarde, Penco, and Goggi, for whom it was written ; and when the season came on in Paris nearly the same company were advertised to sing the same opera there. I was inclined to hear them again, but after having heard them six months before for three pauls, I experienced a decided sense of unwillingness to pay ten francs for identically the same singing, merely because my seat was an arm-chair well-padded and covered with velvet. So, too, after for years purchasing the privilege of listening to Ristori and Salvini for two pauls and a half, or a 2o6 ROBA DI ROMA. shilling English, I rebelled in London against paying half-a-guinea for the same thing ; the chair in this case being scarcely more comfortable, and the house much more close and stuffy. Once in Florence, being at a loss how to amuse myself for the evening, I determined to go to one of the little theatres, where I had heard that there was a good tenor singer and by no means a bad company. I found, certainly, no luxury there; the scenery was bad, the orchestra meagre ; but I heard Beaucarde sing in the " Sonnambula," and paid a half-paul for the entertainment. A cup of coffee and a roll at Doney's and a cigar after that finished my evening, which I had particularly enjoyed, and on counting up the cost, I found I had only expended a paul for both opera and supper. I think I never had so much for little money. With the French, English, and Americans, the opera is an exotic, for which one must pay dearly. In Italy it is common as oil and wine, and nearly as cheap. The discomfort naturally goes with the cheapness, but is amply compensated for by it. The scale of everything connected with its expenses is low ; the actors and singers have small salaries, the orchestra get a few pauls apiece, and nobody makes a fortune out of it; but the people have a cheap amusement, and this is an enormous gain. All the world goes to the theatre ; it is an amusement which never tires the Italians, and despite the heats of summer and the cold of winter the boxes and pit are always well filled. Nothing short of a revolution would empty them. Once, however, during the year 1848, being at Naples, I agreed with a friend to pass the evening at the San Carlino, celebrated for its humorous and ad- mirable acting. On our arrival at the door we found a crowd gathered in the piazza talking excitedly together, and evidently in agitated expectation of something. On inquiry, we found there had been an outbreak among the lazzaroni during the afternoon ; and though it was at once suppressed, there was some fear lest another disturbance might arise, and the troops again fire on the people as they had done only a week before. The orchestra, actors, and all the supernumeraries were collected in the piazza and around the door ; and we said to each other, " There will be no representation to-night, of course." Our doubts were, how- SAN CARLINO IN THE REVOLUTION 207 ever, speedily dispelled by the ticket-seller, who answered our inquiries as to whether there was to be a performance by a ''Siciiro, sicuro ; favorisca. Che posto vuole ? " (Certainly, certainly ; be kind enough to come in. What seats?) So we purchased our tickets and went in. The theatre was quite dark, only one or two tallow-candles burning on the stage and in the orchestra seats. Not a human being was to be seen. We looked at our watches ; the time for the commencement of the play had passed ; and, after waiting five minutes, we determined that there would be no performance, and sallied forth to retake our money and surrender our tickets at the door. The ticket-holder, however, strenuously insisted that the performance was to take place. " Non dubitino. Signer i. SI far a, si far a. Favoriscaiio.^' (Do not doubt. There will certainly be a performance. Please walk in.) Then with a loud shriek he sent his voice into the piazza to summon the di- rector and the actors, who, with unwilling steps, came up to the door, shrugged their shoulders, and said, ^^ Eh T' But the director bowed in the politest manner to us, assuring us that there would be a performance, diVid favorisca' d us back into our seats. It was as black as ever. In a few minutes, however, the curtain dropped ; one lamp after another was lighted; the orchestra straggled in, urged forward by some one in authority who bustled about and ordered right and left. In about ten minutes matters were com- pletely arranged ; the orchestra took their seats and began to play. We looked round the theatre and found that we constituted the entire audience. At first we felt rather awkward, but expected every moment to see the seats fill. No one, however, came in. At last up went the curtain, and the play began to us as regularly as if the theatre were thronged. Vainly we protested ; the actors enjoyed the joke, played their best, and made low bows in recog- nition of the plaudits which the whole audience, consisting of Nero and myself, freely bestowed upon them. Never did I see better acting. Nor did the joke wear out. The curtain fell after the first act, and we were still alone. We made a renewed pro. test, which had no effect ; save that a couple of boys, probably engaged behind the scenes, were sent into the pit ; and thus the whole play was performed. When the curtain finally dropped 2o8 ROBA DI ROMA. there were only about fifteen persons in the house, and they, as far as we could judge, belonged to the theatre, and came in to enjoy the joke. I doubt whether a complete performance ever was given before or after at any theatre to an audience consisting of two persons for the sum of one piastre ; nor do I believe that even at San Carlino, renowned as it is, more humorous and spirited acting was ever seen. At the first night of the season at the opera it is a point of eti- quette for all the proprietors of the boxes to be present ; and a brilliant spectacle it is, the house being uniformly crowded, and every one in an elegant toilette. On this occasion the impresario sends ices and refreshments to all the boxes. Instead of receiving at home, the Romans generally receive in their loge at the opera. Each family takes a box, and as only two or three of the chairs are occupied, there is ample accommodation for visitors. No entrance fee is required except for the pit, and no expense is therefore incurred in making a visit from the out- side. A large collection of friends and acquaintances is always to be' found in the theatre, and these lounge about from one box to another to pay visits and to laugh and chat together, not only between the acts, but during the performance. Yn^x^ palco is in itself a private conversazio7ie, the members of which are constantly changing. Each new visitor takes a place beside the lady, and yields it in turn to the next comer. Often there are five or six visitors all animatedly talking together, and amusing themselves in a most informal way — the music all the while being quite dis- regarded, and serving merely as an accompaniment. The same at- tention to the opera itself cannot of course be expected from those who have heard it night after night as would be given were it fresh and new. The inferior portions are therefore seldom listened to ; but when the prima donna, teno7'e, or basso, advance to sing a favourite air, sccna, or concerted piece, all is hushed to attention. The husband is rarely to be seen in his box when other visitors are there — taking then the opportunity to slip out and make his ound of visits. The body of the house is illuminated solely by a chandelier, the chief light being concentrated on the stage. The interior of the THEATRES— OPERA AND BALLET 209 box is consequently so dark that one may shrink back into it, so as to be entirely concealed from view, and take coffee or ices (furnished from the caffl close by), or press his mistress's hand, and whisper love into her ear, " untalked of and unseen." Connected with the private box of Prince Torlonia is an interior one, hand- somely furnished, where friends may lounge and chat at their ease and take refreshments. All the other boxes are single. Much as the Italians like the opera, they like the ballet still more. This is often interpolated between the acts of the opera, so that they who do not wish to stay to a late hour may enjoy it. The moment the curtain draws up and the ballet commences all is attention ; talking ceases, lorgnettes are levelled everywhere at the stage, and the delight with which the mimi and the dancers are watched is almost childish. The Italian ballet-dancers are generally heavy and handsome ; and, though they want lightness of movement and elegance of limb, they make up for it by the beauty of their faces and busts. This heaviness of make is, how- ever, peculiar to the Romans. In the north they are slenderer and lighter. As Italy gives the world the greatest singers, so it supplies it with the most fascinating dancers. Ferraris, Carlotta Grisi, Rosati, Cerito, and Fuoco, are all ItaHan. They are even more remarkable as pantomimic actors, or mimi as they are called here. The language of signs and gestures comes to them like Dogberry's reading and writing — by nature. What the northern nations put into words the Italians express by gestures. Their shrugs contain a history ; their action is a current commen- tary and explanation of their speech. Oftentimes they carry on conversations purely in pantomime, and it is as necessary for a stranger to learn some of their signs as to study his dictionary and grammar. The lazzaroni at Naples cheat you before your face in the simplest way by this language of signs, and, passing each other in their calessino, they have made an agreement to meet, informed each other where they are going, what their fare pays, given a general report of their family, and executed a commission, by a few rapid gestures. No Italian ever states a number without using his fingers, or refuses a beggar without an unmistakable movement of the hand. , This natural facility in pantomime is p 2IO ROB A DI ROMA. strikingly shown at the institution in Rome for the education of the deaf and dumb. Comparatively little is done by the tedious process of spelling ; but a whole vocabulary of gestures, simple, intelligible, and defined, serves these mutes as a short-hand lan- guage. The rapidity with which they talk, and the ready intel- ligence they show in their conversation, is surprising. Their communications are often more rapid than speech, and it is seldom that they are driven to the necessity of spelhng. The head of this establishment, who is a priest, has devoted himself with much zeal and skill to the education of these poor unfortunates, and they seem greatly to have profited by his instruction. But what struck me more than anything else, was the simple and ingenious system of pantomimic conversation adopted, and, I believe, in- vented by him. The mimetic performances on the Italian stage are remarkable. The mimi seem generally to prefer tragedy or melodrama, and cer- tainly they "tear a passion to rags" as none but Italians could. Nothing to them is impossible. Grief, love, madness, jealousy, and anger, convulse them by turns. Their hands seem wildly to grasp after expression ; their bodies are convulsed with emotion ; their fingers send off electric flashes of indignation ; their faces undergo violent contortions of passion ; every nerve and muscle becomes language ; they talk all over, from head to foot : — ** Clausis faucibus, eloquent! gestu, Nutu, crura, genu, manu, rotatu." In this love of pantomimic acting, the modern Italians are the blood descendants of their Roman ancestors. The ancient pantomimists were both dancers and mimics. Generally, though not always, they performed to music, expressing by gestures alone their meaning ; and from their universal and perfect representation of everything they received their name oi Pantoniiini.* Their art, though of very ancient origin, attained its perfection in the age of Augustus, and this emperor, out of regard to ^^ Mcecenas^ * Sidon. ApoUin. in Narbon. Suetonius in Calig., c. 54, et in Neron, ch. xvi. 54. Aristot. Poet. sub. init. THEATRES— ANCIENT PANTOMIMISTS. 211 atavis edite regibus,'' who was a great admirer of a celebrated panto- mimist named Bathyllus, often honoured his performances by his imperial presence, and thus gave great vogue to this entertainment. It is indeed contended by some writers that these pantomimic dances were invented by Pylades and Bathyllus in the reign of Augustus, there being no anterior record of them discoverable. But this is at least doubtful.* Sometimes a single actor performed all the characters, as it would seem from the account given by Lucian of a skilful pantomimist in the time of Nero, who, to persuade a Cynical philosopher averse to these performances, showed such skill in his representation as to elicit from the Cynic the declaration, that "he seemed to see the thing itself, and not an imitation of it, and that the man spoke with his body and hands." The people were mad for this entertainment and often fell in love with the actors, and after the performance was over fell upon their necks, and not only kissed them, but also their thyisi and dresses. Galen relates a story of a female patient whose sole dis- ease was a violent passion for the pantomimist Pylades, conceived only through seeing him act. The public favour for these actors was participated in by the Court to such an extent, that when the Emperor Constantius drove out of the city all the philosophers on account of the deamess of the " anno7tce,'' he allowed three thou- sand dancers and as many pantornimists to remain — at which Ammianus Marcellinus cannot restrain his indignation. The prices paid them were enormous, and Seneca was greatly scandalized by the fact that twenty thousand crowns of gold were given to one of these female dancers on her marriage. Some of them were known to leave fortunes of three hundred thousand crowns after living in the greatest luxury all their lives. The profession seems to have been as lucrative then as now ; and some of the old stories show the same madness for the ancient dancers that in our days we have seen and felt, perhaps, for Fanny Ellsler and Cerito. The art of the ancient pantomimists was not confined to the theatre, but at dinners and festive entertainments the meats were * See Tacitus, Ann. i. 54. 212 ROB A DI ROMA. carved by actors, who, flourishing their knives, performed this service with dancing and gesticulation to the sound of music. To them Juvenal alludes in these lines : — " Structorem interea ne qua indignatio desit, Saltantem spectes et chironomonta volanti Cultello." Such men as Cicero raised in Rome the dignity of actors, and gave repute to the genius of ^sopus and Roscius. The latter actor obtained such a hold of the Roman people, and became such a favourite, that he received a thousand denarii every day that he performed ; while yEsopus left his son a fortune of two hundred thousand sesterces acquired solely by his profession. Lucian has composed a treatise on pantomimes, and Macrobius tells a story of two pantomimists, Hylas and Pylades, which is interesting as showing the spirit which they threw into their per- formances. When Hylas was dancing a Hymn which ended with the words, " the great Agamemnon," he drew himself up and assumed an erect attitude, endeavouring thereby to express their literal meaning, but Pylades censured this as ill-conceived, saying, " You make him tall, but not great." The audience thereupon called upon Pylades to dance the same hymn, and when he came to this passage he assumed a posture of deep meditation. An example of the pantomimic plays is furnished by Apuleius (1. lo, Miles, p. 233), in which he gives a full description of a performance where the whole story of the Judgment of Paris was told by dance and gesture. Not only stories of this character were danced, but also tragic histories and incidents ; and Appianus Alexandrinus mentions a pantomime play founded on the slaughter of Crassus and the destruction of his army by the Parthians. Even the emperors did not always occupy the seats of spectators, but joined in the acting. And Suetonius relates that Nero, when labouring under a severe disease, made a vow, in case of his recovery, to dance the story of Turnus in the ^neid. Ferrarius, who has written a learned dissertation on this subject,* * De Mimis et Pantomimis Dissertatio, 1714. See also Nicolaus Calliachus, De Ludis Scenicis. THE A TRES—MA TTA CCINL 2 1 3 asserts that in his time (17 19) vestiges of these pantomimes still existed in Italy almost in their ancient form; and that certain dances performed in Lombardy by the Mattaccmi were merely the old pantomimic dances of the Luperci. These dancers were clothed in a tight-fitting dress completely showing their figures, and wore the mask of an old man with a prominent chin and no beard. They ran through the streets dancing, holding their hands to their foreheads, and beating the persons they met with '^ ecourgees^' like the ancient Luperci. They were very agile, run- ning before carriages when at full speed, climbing up walls of houses, and entering through windows. They counterfeited various trades, such as those of barber and shoemaker, and performed mock combats, in which, after a certain time, one would fall and pretend to be dead, on which his comrade would lift him up and carry him off dancing. Apropos of this, Ferrarius tells a story of two young men who fell in love with the same girl. One of them finally won her hand ; and on the day of his wedding, while sur- rounded by his friends, he was visited by a company of persons in masks pretending to be Mattaccmi, who at once began to dance. One of these approached the bridegroom and whispered in his ear, when he at once arose and without suspicion mixed in the masquerade. After dancing with them, he engaged m a feigned combat with one of the party, and finally, pretending to be killed, dropped down as if dead, according to the usual custom of this dance. The others immediately lifted him up and carried him off on their shoulders into a neighbouring chamber, dancing to a sad air as if they were attending a funeral. The jest was admirable, and all the company were much diverted. But after the dancers had all disappeared the bridegroom did not return, and his guests, finally becoming alarmed, sought for him in the chamber where he had been carried by the Mattaccini, and there they found him on the floor — dead — strangled by his rival, who had been one of the dancers. For these pantomimic performances the Italians show their ancient madness. An inferior opera they will bear with tolerable patience, but they know not how to put up with the disappoint- ment of a bad ballet and pantomime. In both, however, they 214 ROB A DI ROMA. are severe but just critics, and express their disapprobation at false singing or inferior execution in the openest way ; sometimes by loud laughter, and sometimes , by remorseless hissing. Many a time have I seen them stop a bad performance by strong expre? sions of displeasure, such as crying out to the hjipresario, jeering the unfortunate actor, and at times refusing to allow him to proceed in his part This is more intelligible when it is considered that the audience are for the most part abonnes for the season, and cannot revenge themselves on the offending person by withdrawing from all future representations — for by so doing they would merely throw away at once their money and their amusement. When, therefore, an actor or singer does not please them, they let the impresario know the fact very unmistakeably, and he always has the good sense to remove the offence. When it is the play or the opera itself to which they object, they await the falling of the curtain in the ent7^acle, or at the close of the piece, and then assail it with a storm of hisses and groans. With equal enthusiasm they express their satisfaction at an admirable performance or with a favourite actor or singer. Repeti- tions, however, are not generally allowed in the opera, and " Bis, bis,'" meets with no other result than renewed courtesies and bows. When the curtain falls, if they are particularly pleased, loud cries oi^^ Fuori^fiiori'^ (out, out) are heard, which the main actors or singers acknowledge by making their appearance again with bows and courtesies. This is sometimes repeated when they are greatly pleased as many as six or eight times. It is so constant a practice that, to save the necessity on such occasions of raising the whole drop scene, a large opening is cut in the centre, with flying curtains on either side, through which the actors enter to answer the congratulations and bravos of the audience. Nothing can be either published or performed in Rome without first submitting to the censorship, and obtaining the permission of the " Custodes morum et rotulorimi" Nor is this a mere form ; on the contrary, it is a severe ordeal, out of which many a play comes so mangled as scarcely to be recognizable. The pen of the censor is sometimes so ruthlessly struck through whole acts and scenes .that the fragments do not sufficiently hang together to make the THEATRES— ALTERATIONS BY THE CENSOR. 215 action intelligible, and sometimes permission is absolutely refused to act the play at all. In these latter days the wicked people are so ready to catch at any words expressing liberal sentiments, and so apt to give a political significance to innocent phrases, that it behoves the censor to put on his best spectacles. Yet such is the perversity of the audience, that his utmost care often proves unavailing, and sometimes plays are ordered to be withdrawn from the boards after they have been played by permission. The same process goes on with the libretti of the operas ; and although Rome has not yet adopted the custom first introduced by that delicate-minded guardian of public morals, King Ferdinand of Naples, surnamed Bomba, of obliging the ballet-dancers to wear long blue drawers and pantalets, yet some of its requirements recall the fable of the ostrich, which, by merely hiding its head, fondly imagines it can render its whole body invisible. In this way, they have attempted to conceal the offence of certain well-known operas, with every air and word of which the Romans are familiar, simply by changing the title and the names of the characters, while the story remains intact. Thus, certain scandalous and shameful stories attaching to the name of Alexander VI. and to the family of the Borgia, the title of Donizetti's famous opera of " Lucrezia Borgia " has been altered to that of " Elena da Fosco." Under this name alone is it permitted to be played, and in the famous bass-song of the Duke, the words — " Non sempre chiusa al Popolo Fu la fatal laguna '* are not permitted on the stage, but have been softened into— " Non sempre fra le nuvole Ascosa va la luna," although there is not a gamin in Rome who does not know every word of the principal songs by heart. In like manner, " I Puritani " is whitewashed into " Elvira Walton ; " and in the famous duo of Suoni la tromba, the words gridando liberta become gridando lealtd. This amiable government also, unwilling to foster a belief in devils, rebaptizes "■ Roberto il Diavolo " into " Roberto 2i6 ROB A DI ROMA. in Picardia," and conceals the name of " William Tell " under that of "Rodolfo di Sterlink." " Les Huguenots," in the same way, becomes in Rome " GH Anglicani," and " Norma " sinks into " La Foresta d' Irminsul." Yet, notwithstanding this, the principal airs and concerted pieces are publicly sold with their original names at all the shops. A most absurd instance of the manner in which operas are altered by the censorship occurred a year or two ago, when Gounod's "Faust" was first brought out on the Roman stage. Of course it was a scandal to represent Mephistopheles in Rome, but the difficulty was how to give the piece without him. At last, however, the affair was happily arranged. Mephistopheles was changed into a homoeopathic doctor, who, by administering certain wonderful medicines to Faust, effected in him a sudden and amazing transformation from age to youth. The first difficulty being avoided, it was comparatively easy to obliterate all the other diabolical features, though the Romans very naively asked at first why the maestro should have given such a peculiar style of music to the homoeopathic doctor. Nor does the censor only undertake to alter the words and characters of an opera. It even re-writes the verses of Dante, and lately the Signora Vitaliani, having asked permission to recite at the Theatre Valle the famous episode of " Ugolino " from the " Inferno," every word of which is as " familiar as his garter " to every Roman, it was granted, but the line — " E questo I'arcivescovo Ruggieri," was altered by the censor to — " Quest' e degli Ubaldin I'empio Ruggieri," SO that the fact of his being an archbishop might be concealed. But the audience, who knew the real line, broke into such a storm of hisses and cries that it was impossible for the Signora Vitaliani to proceed with her recitation. Of the theatres for the drama the best is the Valle, where there is generally an admirable company. The Italians are good actors, and entirely without that self-consciousness and inflated affecta- tion which are the bane of the English stage. Everything with THEATRES— ITALIAN ACTING. 217 us is exaggerated and pompous. We cannot even say ''How do you do?" without mouthing. There is no vice against which Hamlet warns the players that is not rampant in our theatres. The Italians, on the contrary, are simple and natural. Their life which is public, out of doors, and gregarious, gives them con- fidence, and by nature they are free from self-consciousness. The same absence of artificiality that marks their manners in life is visible on their stage. One should, however, understand the Italian character, and know their habits and peculiarities, in order fitly to relish their acting. It is as different from the French acting as their character is different from that of the French. While, at the Theatre Frangais, in Paris, one sees the most perfect representa- tion of artificial life, society, manners, and dress, — on the Italian stage there is more passion, tenderness, pathos, and natural sim- plicity. In high comedy, where the scene is in the artificial sphere of fashionable life, the French are decidedly superior to all other people ; but where the interest of the piece is wholly apart from toilette, etiquette, and mode (three very French words and things), the Italians are more natural and affecting. They gene- rally seem quite unconscious of their audience, and one, at times, might easily imagine himself to be looking into a room, of which, without the knowledge of the occupant, one wall is broken down. There is none of that constant advancing to the footlights, and playing to the pit, which is so unpleasant a characteristic of the English stage. The tone of the dialogue is conversational, the actors talk to each other and not to the house, and in their move- ments and manners they are as easy and nonchalant as if they were in the privacy of their own home. In tragedy their best actors are very powerful ; but ordinarily speaking their playing is best in affecting drama of common life, where scope is given to passion and tenderness. In character-parts, comedy and farce, too, they are admirable ; and out of Italy the real buffo does not exist. Their impersonations, without overstepping the truth of natural oddity, exhibit a humour of character and a genial sus- ceptibility to the absurd which could scarcely be excelled. Their farce is not dry, witty, and sarcastic, like the French, but rich, and humorous, and droll. The brillante, who is always rushing 2i8 ROB A DI ROMA. from one scrape to another, is so full of chatter and blunder, ingenuity, and good-nature, that it is impossible not to laugh with him and wish him well ; while the heavy father or irascible old uncle, in the midst of the most grotesque and absurdly natural imitation, without altering in the least his character, will often move you by sudden touches of pathos when you are least prepared. The old man is particularly well represented on the Italian stage. In moments of excitement and emotion, despite his red bandanna handkerchief, his spasmodic taking of snuff, and his blowing of his nose, all of which are given with a truth, which, at first, to a stranger, trenches not slightly on the bounds of the ludicrous — look out — by an unexpected and ex- quisitely natural turn he will bring the tears at once into your eyes. I know nothing so like this suddenness and unexpected- ness of|"pathos in Italian acting as certain passages in "Uncle Tom's Cabin," which catch you quite unprepared, and, expecting to laugh, you find yourself crying. The system of starring, so destructive to the interests of the drama, is unknown in Italy. The actors are enrolled into dra- matic companies by the various iinpresarti, and, instead of being changed every season, are engaged for years at annual salaries, with an agreement to travel abroad at their will on certain established conditions. The different actors in a troupe thus become habituated to each other's playing, and an effect is pro- duced which could result from no other system. As each one has his own special class of characters, his role in every play naturally determines itself, and jealousies and heart-burnings are thereby to a great extent avoided. In this way Ristori and Salvini were engaged, and for years made the circuit of the principal cities in Italy with the company to which they belonged. Season after season the same company returned to the Teatro Valle at Rome ; and here Ristori made herself a warm favourite among the Romans long before she left Italy to win a European fame. Many and many a time in '48 and '49 have I seen her act on the boards of this theatre. Her 7'dle then was principally in comedy, in which she was more admirable than in tragedy, and in such parts as the Locandiera of Goldoni she had no equal. At this THEATRES— RISTORT AND RACHEL. 219 period, too, I remember with special delight her acting in the character of Elmire, in Moliere's ''Tartuffe." Indeed, the company to which she was attached performed this play with a perfection 1 never again expect to see ; and after which, the traditional acting of it, at the Theatre Fran^ais, good as it was, was a disappoint- ment. Tartuffe is essentially an Italian part. He cannot be understood in Paris as in Rome, where he daily walks the street ; and the Tartuffe of the Roman interregnum of '48 was not only a terrible satire on the priestcraft, but perfectly true to nature in all its details. How the audience and the actors relished it ! what enthusiasm there was in those days ! Since the return of the Pope from Gaeta, Tartuffe is banished from the stage, if not from Rome. Ristori was at this time in the very flower of her youth, and a more beautiful person one could not easily see, even in Italy. It was not until she had become a little passee for La Locandiera that she took to tragedy and made her visit to France. Since then her whole style has changed, and she does not please the Romans so much as in her earlier days. She is now more stately, elabo- rate, and calculated in her art ; then she was more simple, natural, and impulsive. She has been within the circle of Rachel and has felt her influence, though she is in nowise her imitator. Comedy she rarely plays \ but in tragedy she has achieved great distinc- tion. One is always tempted to compare her with Rachel; but they are very different in their powers. Rachel was a La?ma — a serpent woman, and her greatness was in the representation of wicked and devilish passions. Love and tenderness were beyond her faculties ; but rage, revenge, and all demoniac emotions she expressed with unequalled power. In scenes of great excitement that pale slender figure writhed like a serpent ; and the thin arm and hand seemed to crawl along her rich draperies, and almost hiss, so subtle and wonderfully expressive was its movement. What a face and figure she had, capable of expressing all the venom of the characters she loved to play ! Ristori, on the con- trary, excels in the representation of the more womanly and gentle qualities. Her acting is more of the heart — lov£, sorrow, noble indignation, passionate desire, heroic fortitude, she expresses ad- 220 ROBA DI ROMA. mirably. The terrible parts of Myrra and Medea she softens by the constant presence of a deep sorrow and longing. The horror of the deed is obscured by the pathos of the acting and the exi- gencies of the circumstances. Rachel seemed to joy in the doing of horrible acts ; Ristori to be driven to them by violent impulses beyond her power to control.. Her Medea is as affecting as it is terrible ; her Judith, so heroic and inspired that you forget her deed in the self-sacrifice and love of country which prompted it Bravely as she carries herself, there is always apparent an under- current of womanly repulsion which she is forced to overcome by great resolution. The objection to her acting is that it is too formal and self-conscious. She is never carried away herself, and, therefore, fails to carry away her audience. Admirable as she is, she lacks the last highest quality of genius in an actor — she acts, — she gives a little too much stress to unimportant details ; and as she grows older grows more mannered. The influence of the foreign stage has been injurious to her, and deprived her of that simplicity which is the great charm of Italian acting. At the Valle, also, Salvini has played for consecutive years as a member of the Dondini corps, both before and since his triumphs in France and England have won for him an European name. Here, too, years ago, Modena might be seen, before his liberalism and love of country exiled him from Italy after the sad reverses of '48, and deprived the stage of the greatest of Italian actors. I had never the good fortune to see him but once, but then he per- formed one of his great parts, that of Louis XI. His representa- tion of this wicked, suspicious, sensual, and decrepit old king was terrible for its power and truth to nature. Though a young man, his " make up " was so artistic that, even by the aid of a strong opera-glass, it was impossible to believe that he was painted. There were the seamy parchment forehead, the deeply-chan- nelled cheeks, the dropping jaw, rheumy eyes, and silvery blotched complexion of eighty ; his back was curved, one shoulder higher than the other, and the whole frame marked with infirmity; his walk was stiff and cramped, his gesture spasmodic, his hands trembhng and clutching constantly at his dress; his voice was weak and harsh, and in violent paroxysms of passion, when most THEATRES— MODENA AND SALVINL 221 actors, forgetting their feigned weakness, raise their voice, his tones became extinguished and convulsive, bursting only now and then into a wiry scream. Never for a moment did he forget the character he was acting ; or rather, so completely had he fused himself into it, that he himself seemed no longer to exist. So ghastly a picture of blasted, passionate, and sensual old age, where empty desires had outlived their physical satisfaction, and the violence of internal passions, paralyzing the impotent body, ended in convulsion, I never saw before or after. Salvini, who is of the same school of acting as Modena, has almost an equal genius. His Saul is a wonderful performance, worthy to stand beside the Louis XI. of Modena. The mixture of rage and insanity in this tormented spirit — his trances when the facts of the world around him disappear before the terrible visions conjured up by his brain — the subsequent intervals of painful weakness and senile sorrow — are expressed as only an actor or great imagination could express them. So, too, his Othello, in another way, is quite as remarkable. The tragedy moves on with an even and constantly accelerating pace from beginning to end. The quiet dignity of the first scenes, where he shows the gentle manliness of his love, and pleads his cause — the turbulent changes of passion when, stung by the poisonous insinuations of lago, he tortures himself by doubts, and writhes at last in the toils of jealousy and madness — the plaintive sorrow and pathos of his suffering — the fierce savageness of his attack on lago, when, in a moment of revulsion, he seizes him by the throat, and, flinging him to the ground, towers over him in a tempest of frightful rage — his cruel, bitter taunting of Desdemona, when, wrought upon by lago, he believes her guilty — and the last fearful scene before the murder, where he bids her confess her sins and pray, are given with a gradation and power, compared with which all Eng- lish representations seem cold and artificial. Nothing is European in his embodiment of Othello ; it is the inflammatory passion of the East bursting forth like fire, and consuming a noble and tor- tured nature — it is the Moor himself, as Shakespeare drew him. In the last interview with Desdemona, Salvini is wonderful. Like a tiger weaving across his cage, he ranges to and fro along 222 ROBA DI ROMA. the furthest limits of the stage, now steaHng away from her with long strides and avoiding her approaches, and now turning fiercely round upon her and rolling his black eyes, by turns agitated by irresolution, touched by tenderness, or goading himself into rage, until at last, like a storm, he seizes her and bears her away to her death. In all this Salvini never forgets that the Moor, though maddened by jealousy, acts on a false notion of justice and not of revenge : — " Oh I were damned beneath all depth in hell But that I did proceed upon /z^^/ grounds To this extremity." After the deed has been accomplished, what can exceed the horror of his ghastly face as he looks out between the curtains he gathers about him when he hears Emilia's knock — or the anguish and remorse of that wild, terrible cry as he leans over her dead body, after he knows her innocence — or the savage rage of that sudden scream with which he leaps upon lago ? But this is the last outburst of passion. Henceforward to the end nothing can be more imposing than Salvini's representation of the broken- hearted Moor. He resumes his original bearing. He is calm in his resolution and dignified in his despair. Nothing remains but death, and he will die as becomes his great nature. His last speech is grand, simple, and calm. After these words : — " I took by the throat the circumcised dog And smote him — " he pauses, raises himself to his full height, and looks proudly round \ then hissing out " Thus," he suddenly draws his curved knife across his throat, and falls backward dead. The Italians at the theatre are like children. The scene repre- sented on the stage is real to them. They sympathize with the hero and heroine, detest the villain, and identify the actor with the character he plays. They applaud the noble sentiments and murmur at the bad. When Othello calls lago " honest " there is a groan over the whole house, and whenever lago makes his THEATRES—SYMPATJJ y OF THE AUDIENCE. 223 entrance a movement of detestation is perceptible among the audience. Scarcely will they sit quietly in their seats when he kneels with Othello to vow his " wit, hands, heart to wronged Othello's service," but openly cry out against him. I have even heard them in a minor theatre hiss an actor who represented a melodramatic Barbarossa who maltreated the Italians, giving vent to their indignation by such loud vociferation, that the poor actor was forced to apologize by deprecatory gestures, and recall to their minds the fact that he was acting a part. So openly is the sympathy of the audience expressed that it is sometimes difficult to induce an actor to take the villain's role. On one occasion I was present at the Cocomero Theatre in Florence, when a French play was performed, founded on the murder of the Duchess de Praslin. Strong disapprobation was exhibited during the first acts ; but when finally the assassin issues from behind the curtain after committing the fatal act, with a bloody dagger in his hand and his clothes stained with blood, the whole audience rose as a single man, and, with a loud groan of disgust, drove the actor from the stage and refused to allow the performance to continue. The other afternoon, in the Mausoleum of Augustus, I was listening to a play in which one of the characters was a heartless, hypocritical money-lender, without bowels of compassion for his poor debtors, and who was privately endeavouring to ruin a poor woman, for whom he publicly expressed his sympathy. On his declaring, in one of the scenes, that he was ready to assist her in every way, for his heart was too tender to deny anything to the poor and suffering, my neighbour suddenly broke out in a loud voice with startling protest, — " Brutto pagliaccio, che ti piglia un accidente" (Rascally harlequin, may an apoplexy take you !) " Eh, dawero," was the sympathetic reply of all around. It is not three months ago that a new play was brought out at the Correa. The story was one of seduction, drawn from a French plot, but the people would not hear it. " E infatne. E pur iroppo questo. E indeg?iOy' was heard on all sides. Men who might perhaps have secretly followed the course of the seducer in real life were indignant at its representation on the stage. They 2 24 JROBA DI ROMA. would not permit art to be dragged down into the filthy kennels of sensual vice. Nor is this solely the case with the stage. Their poetry, their romance, their literature is opposed at all points to that of the French. It may be dull, but it is always decent, al- ways moral Whatever life may be, art is a sanctuary, and not, as in many French novels of the present day, a neutral ground of assignation and seduction. When summer comes on and the days grow long there are theatrical representations in the open air at the Mausoleum of Augustus, or, as it is more popularly called, the Correa, beginning at five and ending at half-past eight o'clock. The theatre itself is built into the circular walls of the ancient mausoleum of Augustus that fire, siege, and the efforts of barbarians have failed to de- molish; and its popular name is founded on the fact that the entrance is through the cortile of the Palazzo Correa, on the ground floor of which the tickets of admission are sold. You pass through the gloomy archway of this palace, which stands at the lower part of the Via dei Pontefici, near the Tiber, picking your way over a dirty pavement, which, nevertheless, if you examine, you will find to be composed of beautiful fragments of serpentine grimed with filth and age, which once were trodden by the im- perial feet of the Caesars ; thence issuing into a shabby, irregular cortile^ you see before you the outer shell of the old mausoleum, with its reticulated brick-work and drapery of vines ; and passing on through a doorway over which is inscribed the words ^^Mau- soleo (T Augusto^' you ascend two flights of stairs to a landing on a level with the arena, where you give up your ticket. Here your eyes are arrested by a number of marble slabs let into the wall, on which are celebrated, not the visits of emperors and kings, as you expected, but the famous feats of circus riders and actors who have delighted the modern Romans in the arena, and the won- derful intelligence of the far-famed " Elefantessa, Miss Babb.^^ One of these is worth copying for magniloquence : — " Cessa la loqiiace tromba della fama ove non giiinga il nome di Giovanni Guillamne^ supcrbo frenatore dei destrieri^ cui straordi- nariamente plaudiva la Citta del Tebro nei autunni 185 1 e 1852." THEATRES— MAUSOLEUM OF AUGUSTUS 225 From this landing we enter at once the circular arena, enclosed within lofty walls and open above to the sky. Five tiers of brick steps, receding all around to an arcade of sixty-one arches, over which is an open terrace guarded by an iron railing, constitute the permanent seats — and one-half the arcade is divided into private boxes, which are sold to the gentry. On one side is erected a covered stage, with curtain, drop-scene, and coulisses, and in front of this a portion of the open space of the arena is temporarily railed off and filled with numbered chairs, where the great mass of the audience sit. The price of a seat within this enclosure is fifteen baiocchi, but outside the railing and on the brick steps the price is only one paul. The boxes in the arcades cost a few baiocchi more ; but as they are distant from the stage they are but little occupied, except when the arena is used for circus perform- ances, in which case the stage and the railed-off enclosures are removed, and they become the chief places. The outer walls are so high that by five o'clock the arena is quite in shadow, and there one may pass an hour or two most agreeably in the summer afternoon, smoking a cigar and listening often to admirable act- ing. The air is cool and fresh ; there is no vile smell of streaming lamps ; the smoke from the cigars ascends into the open sky and disturbs no one ; great white clouds drift now and then over you ; swallows hurtle above, darting to and fro incessantly in curving flight, and the place is in all respects most enjoyable. If you do not choose to listen, you may stroll outside the railings in the arena, or ascend into the open arcade and chat with your friends. Are you thirsty, you find a subterranean caffe beneath the brick steps, with tables spread out before it, where you may order to be brought to you beer, wine, bibitc of oranges, lemons, syrups of strawberries, cherries, violet, all sorts of rosolj, and, if your taste is more craving of excitement, aqua-vitce. and rhum. Cigar vendors are also wandering about ; and between the acts you hear on all sides the cry of ^^ Sigan, sigari sceltiy The scenery is very poor, and without the illusion of lamplight everything looks tawdry; but, when the acting is good, the imagination supplies the material de- ficiencies. It is only when the acting is bad that the scenery becomes ludicrous. Given Shakespeare, a blanket will suffice ; Q 226 ROBA DI ROMA. but Charles Kean requires all the splendour and pomp of scenic effect as a background. A barrel is a throne for a king ; but Christopher Sly is not a lord even in " the fairest chamber hung round with wanton pictures." Now and then a very odd effect takes place. In a scene of passionate emotion, when the lover is on his knees ; when the father is lifting his hands to curse his child ; when the mother is just about to clasp her new-found daughter ; when two rivals are crossing swords — clang, clang, clang, suddenly peal the bells of the neighbourhood, and the actors, whose voices are drowned in the din, are forced to stop and walk about the stage, and wait until the noise ceases. The audience growls and laughs, the actors smile and drop into their real characters, everybody shrugs his shoulders, and not a few say, " accidente.^^ But the grievance is soon over, and the scene goes on. Sometimes a cloud draws darkening over the sky, and a sudden clap of thunder with a few large preliminary drops brings all the audience to their feet, and a general scramble takes place for the covered loggie. The play still continues, however ; and queer enough is sometimes the aspect of the place. A few venturous spirits, determined to hear as well as to see, and knowing that the pit is the only really good spot, still bravely keep their places under the green, purple, and brown domes of their umbrellas — others braver than they, who have not had the foresight to bring umbrellas, seize a chair, and turning it upside down, and holding it by one leg, improvise an umbrella. The last spectacle of this kind at which I was present, showed pluck beyond this — at the first drops the greater part of the audience fled to the loggie, and there jeered the few who resolutely remained under their um- brellas. But the rain came heavier and heavier, and threatened to outlast the play, and one by one all left the pit, except a sturdy Englishman of middle age in gold spectacles, and an Italian woman. They had made up their minds never to give it up — and there they stayed alone, and side by side, despite the shouts and laughter of the audience. The woman, after the fashion of her sex, was in crinoline, which was freely exposed as she turned up her skirts to keep them dry. Her feet were THEATRES— GHOSTS IN THE MAUSOLEUM. 227 planted on the upper rungs of a chair, in front of her, with her knees on a level with her bosom, an inverted chair was spread over her dress, on either side of her, and in her lap was a third, through the rungs of which she had thrust her arms so as to support still a fourth chair above her head, and crouched beneath this, she listened with the greatest calm to the play. At her side, and unwilling to be outdone, sat the Englishman, with his trousers rolled up, and similarly arranged in all respects, save that he had a great green umbrella instead of a chair over his head. The pit swam with water, the thunder pealed, the rain poured in torrents ; but there, with the utmost sang froid^ they sat, neither turning aside to encourage each other, but both looking stedfastly before them at the stage. At last the cloud broke up, the shower passed over, and the audience began to pour back. The Englishman never moved, until an Italian got before him, and upon the falling of a few supplementary drops seized a chair and held it over his head, so as to impede the Englishman's view of the stage. This human patience could endure no longer. He dropped his great umbrella and gave the Italian obstacle a punch with the great brass ferrule in the middle of the back, making signs that he was in his way — whereupon the obstacle shrugged his shoulders and laughed, and moved aside. Often before the play is over, the shadows of twilight deepen in the arena, and the stars begin to twinkle overhead. Then lamps are lighted on the stage and around the theatre, and the contrast of the yellow lights below and the silvery star-points above, in the deep abyss of the sky, is very striking. As one looks around, in the intervals of the acting, the old reminiscences of the place will sometimes very forcibly strike the mind ; and the imagination, running down the line of history with an electric thrill, will revive the ghosts of the old days, and people the place with the shapes of the Caesars, whose bodies were here laid in solemn burial eighteen hundred years ago. Why should not their spirits walk here after the shadows have begun to fall, and the mists from the river to steal over their tomb ? The place is creepy after twilight,— but let us linger a few moments and give a glimpse into the past, or, if you wish to 228 ROBA DI ROMA. have a sensation, let us walk into one of these damp subterranean passages, and raise a spirit or two. Strabo tells us that this mausoleum, which was built by Augustus to be the last resting-place for the ashes of his family, originally consisted of a huge tumulus of earth, raised on a lofty basement of white marble, and covered to the summit with ever- green plantations in the manner of a hanging garden. On the summit was a bronze statue of Augustus himself, and beneath the timiulus was a large central hall, round which ran a range of fourteen sepulchral chambers, opening into this common vesti- bule. At the entrance were two Egyptian obelisks, fifty feet in height. One of these obelisks now stands on the Quirinal beside the Dioscuri, attributed with little foundation to Phidias and Praxi- teles. It was placed there by Pius VI. All around was an extensive grove, divided into walks and terraces. In the centre of the plain, opposite to the mausoleum, was the bustu??i, or funeral pile, where the bodies were burnt. This was also built of white marble, surrounded by balustrades, and planted inside with poplars. Its site has been recently ascertained to be close by the church of St. Carlo in Corso. The young Marcellus, whose fate was bewailed by Virgil in lines that all the world knows, was its first occupant, and after him a long Caesarian procession laid their ashes in this marble chamber. Here was placed Octavia, the mother of Marcellus, the neglected wife of Antony, whom Cleopatra caught in her " strong toil of grace." Here lay Agrippa, the builder of the Pantheon and husband of the profligate Julia ; Caius and Lucius, the emperor's nephews ; Livia, his well- beloved wife ; and beside them, Augustus himself Here, too, the poisoned ashes of the noble Germanicus were borne from Syria by Agrippina, while crowds of mourning Romans followed her, invoking the gods to spare to them his children. Here the young first Drusus, the pride of the Claudian family, and at his side the second Drusus, the son of Tiberius, were laid. Plere the dust of Agrippina, after years of exile and persecution, was at last permitted to repose beside that of her husband Germanicus. Here Nero, and his mother Agrippina, and his victim Britannicus ; here Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and all the other Caesars down THEATRES—STORY OF THE MAUSOLEUM. 229 to Nerva, found their burial-place ; and then the marble door was closed, for the sepulchral cells were full. The next Cscsar, Trajan, found his burial-place in his Forum ; then Hadrian built his colossal mausoleum, where were placed all the subsequent emperors down to Marcus Aurelius ; and subsequently with Sep- timius Severus begins the list of those who found their last resting- place in the tombs on the Via Appia and near the Porta Capena. A long blank space now occurs in the history of the mausoleum. Centuries went by, while the ashes of the Csesars reposed undis- turbed in their marble sepulchres. Then came a thunder over their heads ; when Alaric, in the fifth century, overwhelmed Rome with his hordes of Visigoths, broke down the gate of the mausoleum, plundered the tombs of the Caesars, and scattered their ashes to the winds. Wild weeds and ivy then covered with green the ruins of their ravage. Centuries again went by without a change, save that of time, and lizards and serpents slid in and out unmolested. At last the Colonna took possession of it, and rebuilt it into a fortress. But, enraged with their treachery after the repulse of the Romans at Tusculum, the populace destroyed all that was destructible of this great mausoleum. It was too strong for them, however. The mortar and cement of centuries had hardened to stone. Its massive walls resisted their attacks ; and Montfaucon tells us in his pilgrimage to Rome in the thirteenth century, that he saw over one of the arches of the mausoleum the funeral inscription of Nerva : " Hcec sunt ossa ei cmis Nervce. Imperatorisy^ Again the Colonna occupied them, rebuilt them into a fortress, and there withstood the assaults of Gregory IX. Then came a day when a new burial took place here. It was of Rome's last tribune. Murdered at the foot of the Capitol, his dead body was dragged thence by the Jews, under the orders of Jugurtha and Sciaretta Colonna, and on the ruins of the mausoleum was seen the first funeral pyre since that of Nerva. Every Jew in Rome was there, feeding with dry thistles the fire that consumed Rienzi's body, and his ashes were blown about by the wind. * Liber de Mirab. Rom. Ap. Montfaucon. Diarium Italicum, p. 692. 230 ROBA DI ROMA. '' Cost quel corpo fit arso, fu ridotto in polvere e no7i ne 7'imase cica "* But Caesars and Tribune are alike vanished, and not a memorial of them remains. The sarcophagus which contained the ashes of Agrippina, daughter of Marcus Agrippa and wife of Germanicus, is one of the few relics which now remain of the pomp of this splendid mausoleum. The very stone on which the inscription was graven to her memory was afterwards used as the measure for three hundred-weight of corn ; and it may still be seen in the court of the Conservators' Palace, on the Capitoline Hill, with the arms of the modern senate sculptured on its side, and beneath an inscrip- tion setting forth its " base modern uses." This resting-place of Csesars, this fortress of mediaeval princes, was afterwards hollowed out into a vineyard, and Santi Bartoli, in his work on Gli Antichi Sepolchri, gives us a picture of it in this state. It was then made into a circus for bull-fights, which were only abolished a few years ago; and now it is devoted to the alternate uses of a circus and a day theatre. Where the grand imperial processions of death once paused, the parti-coloured clown tumbles in the dust, and, flinging out both his arms, cries, ^^ Eccomi qua.^^ In the chambers where once were ranged the urns of Augustus and Germanicus, stand rows of bottles contain- ing beer, liquors, and bib He ; and the only funeral pyres we burn there now are the cigars we smoke as we look at the play of Julius Caesar. Tempora mutantur. * " Biography of Rienzi," by Tommaso Fortifiocca. CHAPTER IX. THE COLOSSEUM. Of all the ruins in Rome none is at once so beautiful, so imposing, and so characteristic as the Colosseum. Here throbbed the Roman heart in its fullest pulses. Over its benches swarmed the mighty population of the central city of the world. In its arena, gazed at by a hundred thousand eager eyes, the gladiator fell, while the vast velarium trembled as the air was shaken by savage shouts of " Habet^' and myriads of cruel hands, with up- turned thumbs, sealed his unhappy fate. The sand of the arena drank the blood of African elephants, lions, and tigers, — of Mirmillones, Laqzieatores, Rdiarii, and Andabatce^ — and of Christian martyrs and virgins. Here emperor, senators, knights, and soldiers, the lowest populace and the proudest citizens, gazed together on the bloody games — shouted together as the favourite won, groaned together fiercely as the favourite fell, and startled the eagles sailing over the blue vault above with their wild cries of triumph. Here might be heard the trumpeting of the enraged elephant, the savage roar of the tiger, the peevish shriek of the grave-rifling hyena, while the human beasts above, looking on the slaughter of the lower beasts beneath, uttered a wilder and more awful yell. Rome — brutal, powerful, bloodthirsty, imperial Rome — built in her days of pride this mighty amphitheatre, and, out- lasting all her works, it still stands, the best type of her grandeur and brutality. What St. Peter's is to the Rome of to-day was the Colosseum to the Rome of the Caesars. The Baths of Caracalla, grand as they are, must yield precedence to it. The Caesars' palaces are almost level with the earth. Over the pavement where once swept the imperial robes now slips the gleaming 232 ROBA DI ROMA. lizard, and in the indiscriminate ruins of these splendid halls the coniadino plants his potatoes and sells for a paid the oxidized coin which once may have paid the entrance fee to the great amphi- theatre. The golden house of Nero is gone. The very Forum where Cicero delivered his immortal orations is almost obliterated, and antiquarians quarrel over the few columns that remain. But the Colosseum still stands : despite the assault of time and the work of barbarians, it still stands, noble and beautiful in its decay — yes, more beautiful than ever. But what a change has come over it since the bloody scenes of the Caesars were enacted ! A supreme peace now reigns there. Thousands of beautiful flowers bloom in its ruined arches, tall plants and shrubs wave across the open spaces, and Nature has healed over the wounds of time with delicate grasses and weeds. Where, through the podium doors, wild beasts once rushed into the arena to tear the Christian martyrs, now stand the altars and stations that are dedicated to Christ. In the summer afternoon the air above is thronged with twittering swallows ; and sometimes, like a reminiscence of imperial times, far up in the blue height, an eagle, planing over it on wide-spread motionless wings, sails silently along. Here, as you lie towards twilight, dreaming of the past, upon some broken block of travertine, you will see a procession wending its way between the arches, preceded by a cross-bearer and two acolytes. It is composed of a Franciscan friar in his brown serge and cowl, accompanied by the religious confraternity of the "Lovers of Jesus and Maria," and followed by a group of women in black, and veiled. They chant together a hymn as they slowly approach the cross planted in the centre of the arena. There they kneel and cry, " Adoi-amus ie, Christe, et benedici77ius /^," with the response, " Quia per sa?icta??i cruce?n tuam redemisti munduju^ Then the monk ascends the platform before one of the altars, plants his crucifix beside him, and preaches a sermon. This finished, the procession makes the round of the stations and again passes out of the arena. As he advances to the first station he chants : — THE COLOSSEUM AT TWILIGHT 233 ** L' orme sanguigne Del mio Signorc, Tutto dolore Seguiter6. " And the people respond : — ' ' Vi piego, o Gesu buono, Per la vostra passione Darmi il perdono ! " It is Strange to hear this chant and sermon in a place once dedi- cated to blood — Strange to hear the doctrine of love and forgive- ness on the spot where the gladiator fell and the martyr suffered for his faith. As you dream over this change, the splendour of sunset blazes against the lofty walls, and transfigures its blocks of travertine to brown and massive gold ; the quivering stalks and weeds seem on tire ; the flowers drink in a glory of colour, and show like gems against the rough crust of their setting ; rose clouds hang in the open vault above, under which swift birds flash incessantly, and through the shadowed arches you see long molten bars of crimson drawn against a gorgeous sky beyond. Slowly the great shadow of the western wall creeps along the arena ; the cross in the centre blazes no longer in the sun ; it reaches the eastern benches, climbs rapidly up the wall, and the glory of sunset is gone. Twilight now swiftly draws its veil across the sky, the molten clouds grow cool and grey, the orange refines into citron and pales away to tenderest opaline light, and stars begin to peer through the dim veil of twilight. Shadows deepen in the open arena, block up the arches and galleries, confuse the lines of the benches, and shroud its decay. You rise and walk musingly into the centre of the arena, and, looking round its dim, vast circumference, you sud- denly behold the benches as of old thronged with their myriads of human forms — the ghosts of those who once sat there. That terrible circle of eyes is shining at you with a ghastly expression of cruel excitement. You hear the strange, exciting hum of confused voices, and the roar of wild beasts in the caverns below. You are yourself the gladiator, who must die to make a Roman holiday, or the martyr who waits at the stake for the savage beasts 234 ROBA DI ROMA, that are to rend you. A shudder comes over you, for the place has magnetized you with its old life — you look hurriedly round to seek flight, when suddenly you hear a soprano voice saying, " Francois, where did the Vestal Virgins sit ? " and you wake from your dream. Later still the moon shines through the arches and softens and hallows the ruins of the old amphitheatre ; an owl plaintively hoots from the upper cornice, and from the grove near by you hear the nightingale's heart throbbing into song ; voices are talking under the galleries, and far up a torch wanders and glimmers along the wall, where some enterprising English party is exploring the ruins. The sentinel paces to and fro in the shadowy entrance, and parties of strangers come in to see the " Colosseum by moonlight." They march backward and forward, and their " guide, philosopher, and friend," the courier, in broken English answers their questions. They are very much interested to know how long, and how broad, and how high the amphitheatre is, and how many persons it would hold, and where the beasts were kept, and, above all, where the Vestal Virgins sat ; and every Englishman quotes the passage from "Manfred," in which Lord Byron describes the Colosseum, and listens with special attention for the owls and the watch-dog, and is rather inclined to think he has been cheated unless he does happen to hear them; and every truly sentimental young lady agrees with the poet, when he says that the moonlight makes **The place Become religion, and the heart run o'er With silent worship of the great of old, " who played such pretty pranks here some eighteen hundred years ago. . Such is the Colosseum at the present day. Let us go back into the past, and endeavour to reconstruct it. We are in the beginning of the reign of the great Julius, and the stormy populace of Rome has no amphitheatre for its gladiatorial games and combats with wild beasts. When they take place, they are exhibited in the Forum, and there the people throng and crowd the temporary seats by which a small arena is enclosed. But this THE COLOSSEUM— EARLY AMPHLTHEATRES. 235 is soon felt to be insufficient and inconvenient, and Julius for the first time now erects in the Campus Martius a great wooden structure, to which is given the name of amphiiheairum. Before this we have only had theatres, which were invariably semicircular in form, the seats of the spectators fronting the stage, which occu- pied the line of the diameter. We have now, for the first time, an amphitheatre in the form of an ellipse, in which the arena is entirely enclosed with tiers of seats, and this is the shape which henceforward all amphitheatres are destined to take. This wooden amphitheatre, however, in the reign of Augustus gives way to an amphitheatre of stone, which at the instance of the emperor is built in the Campus Martius by Statilius Taurus, It was too small, however, to satisfy the wishes of the people, and Au- gustus seems to have entertained at one time a prospect of building one still larger on the very spot now occupied by the Colosseum ; but among his various schemes of embellishing the city, this was abandoned. Tiberius seems to have done nothing in this respect. Caligula, however, began to build a large stone amphitheatre, but he died before it had made much progress, and it was not continued by his successor. Still later, Nero built a temporary amphitheatre of wood in the Campus Martius, where were represented those remarkable games at which he was not only a spectator but an actor. Here at times he might be seen lounging on the sug- gestus in imperial robes of delicate purple, that flowed loosely and luxuriously about him, his head crowned with a garland of flowers, and looking so like a woman in his dress, that you might easily be deceived as to his sex, were it not for that cruel face with his hawk nose and small fierce eyes, that looks out under the flowers. Here, at other times, half naked and armed like a gladiator, he fights in the arena, and woe be to him who dares to draw the imperial blood ! If we could look in at one of the games given in this amphitheatre, we should see not only the emperor playing the gladiator's part on the arena, but at his side, and fighting against each other, at times no less than four hundred senators and six hundred Roman knights. Here, too, this mad artist played his harp, made recitations from the poets, and acted, mixing with the populace, and winning their golden opinions. Scorned and 236 ROBA DI ROMA. hated by the upper classes, he was certainly loved by many in the lower ranks, and for many a year upon his tomb was daily found the offering of fresh flowers. Meanwhile, Nero has built his golden house on the Palatine Hill, with its gorgeous halls, theatres, and corridors, thronged with marble statues ; and at its base is an artificial lake, fed by pure waters brought from the mountains, in which at times he cele- brates his naumachiae. This occupies the very spot on which the Colosseum is afterwards to be built, but it is only a lake during the reigns of Galba, Otho, and Vitellius. When Nero set the torch to Rome, among the many buildings which were consumed was the old amphitheatre of Statilius Taurus, and Rome had only that of the Campus Martins, in which the brutal and gluttonous Vitellius could carry on those gladiatorial games which were necessary for the popularity of the emperor and the peace of the people. But when Titus and Vespasian return after the conquest of Jerusalem enriched with spoils, a great change takes place. The populace cries out for " Panem et Cir censes,'''' and there is no amphitheatre in which they can fitly be given. Then it is that the Lake of Nero is drained, and out of the Jewish captives who have been brought to Rome to grace the imperial triumph, twelve thousand of those unhappy slaves whose descendants still burrow in the Ghetto, are driven, in the year 72 a.d., under the smack of the whip, to lay the first stones of the Amphitheatrum Flavium, which now goes by the name of the Colosseum. For long years these poor wretches toiled at their work ; but when they had reached the third tier of seats Vespasian died. Titus then con- tinued the construction, and dedicated the amphitheatre, in the year 80 a.d., but it was not completely finished until the reign of Domitian. At the dedication by Titus there was a magnificent spectacle. The games lasted for one hundred days. Fifty wild beasts were killed every day, and no less than 5000 were slaughtered in the arena. According to the tradition of the Church, the design of the amphitheatre was made by Gaudentius, a Christian architect, who afterwards suffered martyrdom within its walls. The building is at last finished, and a magnificent structure it is. Looking at it from the outside, we behold a grand eleva- THE COLOSSEUM IN ANCIENT DAYS. 237 tion of four stories, built of enormous blocks of travertine, that glow like rough gold in the sunlight. The lower story is Doric, the second Ionic, the third Corinthian, and the fourth Composite ; the lower three being composed of arches with en- gaged columns, and the upper being a solid wall pierced with square openings, and faced by pilasters. High up against the blue sky is drawn the curved cornice of its summit, with huge projecting brackets on which the poles supporting the velariiwi, or awning, are fixed.* The two middle rows of arches are thronged with marble statues, and over the principal entrance is a great triumphal car drawn by horses. Just before it is the " meta sudans,^^ over whose simple cone, fixed upon a square base, the water oozes through a thousand perforated holes, and streams into a basin below, f Above, on the Palatine, are the splendid porticoes and pillars of the golden house, with its green hanging gardens, and beyond, on the Via Sacra, is the grand triumphal arch of Titus, and afterwards of Trajan. It is a holiday, and games are to be given in the amphitheatre- The world of Rome is flocking to it from all quarters. Senators and knights with their body-guards of slaves and gladiators, soldiers, glittering with silver and gold, youths with their peda- gogues, women, artizans, and priests, companies of gladiators marshalled by Lanisice, cohorts with flashing bucklers and swords, and masses of freedmen, slaves, and the common populace of the city, are pouring down the Via Sacra, and filling the air with a confused noise and uproar, in which shouts of laughter and cheering are mingled with the screams of women and the clash of swords. At times the clear piercing shriek of a trumpet or the brazen clash of music rises above this simmering cauldron of noise, and here and there, looking up the human river that pours down the slope of the Via Sacra, you see grey sheaves of bristling spears lifted high above the crowd, or here and there a golden * The velarium with which Juhus covered the Forum was reputed to be of silk, says Dion, and possibly this was of the same material ; though, when we remember that silk, according to Vopiscus, was then worth its weight in gold, it would seem very improbable. t It is thus represented in two medals struck by Titus and Domitian. 238 ROBA DI ROMA. eagle that gleams and wavers in the sun, where some Roman legion sharply marches through the loitering mass of people. We push along with the crowd, and soon we arrive at the amphi- theatre, where we pause and struggle vainly to read the libellum or programme, which the " editor " or exhibitor has affixed to the walls, to inform the public of the names of the gladiators, and the different games and combats of the day. The majestic por- ticoes which surround the whole building are filled with swarms of people, some lingering and lounging there till the time shall come for the games to begin, or looking at the exquisite designs in stucco with which they are adorned,* and some crowding up the " vojnitoricB,'" which at regular distances lead up to the seats. Here we procure our tickets for a numbered seat, and soon push up the steps and come into the interior circle of the mighty amphitheatre, glad enough at last to be jostled no longer, and under the direction of a locarms, to get our seat. Already the lofty ranges of benches are beginning to be filled, and at a rough guess there must be even now some 50,000 persons there. But many a range is still empty, and we know that 87,000 persons can be seated, while there is standing room for 22,000 more. The huge vela7'ium is bellying, sagging, and swaying above our heads, veined with cords, and throwing a transparent shadow over the whole building. How it is supported, who can tell? But we may congratulate ourselves that we are on the shady side, where the sun does not beat; for the mad emperor, when the games have not been fierce and bloody enough to please him, has many a time ordered a portion of the velariiwi to be removed, so as to let the burning sun in upon those who were unlucky enough to' be opposite to it, and then prohibited any one from leaving his place under penalty of instant death. Looking down we see surrounding the arena a wall about 15 * These still remained in the fifteenth century, and were copied and engraved by Giovanni da Udine, in the time of Leo X. This painter, who was the first to revive the use of stucco, after the manner of the ancient Romans, in decora- tion and arabesque, was employed by Raffaelle to make the stucco of the Logge, in the Vatican, the designs of which were taken, in a great measure, from those which were found in the Baths of Titus and in the Colosseum. THE COLOSSEUM IN ANCIENT DAYS. 239 feet in height, faced with rich marbles, and intended to guard the audience against the wild beasts. This is sometimes called the podium, though the term is more appropriately applied to the ter- race on the top of the wall, which extends in front of the benches, and is railed round by a trellis-work. This, in the amphitheatre of Nero, was made of bronze, but Carinus afterwards substituted golden cords, which were knotted together at their intersections with amber. There is the seat of honour, and three or four ranges of chairs are set apart for persons entitled to the distinction of the curule chair. Those, taking their seats in them now, are, or have been, some of them, praetors, and some consuls, curules, aediles, or censors. There, too, is the Flamen Dialis. Opposite to the praetors, that group of white-robed women, also in the podium, is the Vestal Virgins ; and there, on the raised tribune, is the seat of the editor who exhibits the games. Above the podiu?n are three tiers, called the mceniana, which are separated from each other by long platforms running round the whole building and CdXl^d pr^Ecinctiones. The first of these, consisting of fourteen rows of stone and marble seats, is for the senators and equestrian orders, and they have the luxury of a cushion to sit upon. The second tier is for \hQ populus, and the third, where there are only wooden benches, is occupied by the ''^ pullati^' or common people of the lower classes. Above these is a colonnade or long gallery set apart for women, who are ad- mitted when there is to be no naked fighting among the gladiators. But as yet the seats are empty, for the women are not admitted before the fifth hour. On the middle seats where the plebeians sit there is not a single person in black, for this was prohibited by Octavius Caesar, and it was he also who ordered that the ambassadors should not stand, as they used to do, in the orchestra or podium, and that the young nobles should always be accom- panied by their pedagogues. While we are looking round we can hear the roar of the wild beasts, which are kept in great caves under the pavement of the arena ; and sometimes we see their fierce glaring faces through the arched doors with which the walls of the podium were pierced. They are now protected by portcullises, which later will be drawn 240 ROBA DI ROMA. up by cords to let the beasts into the arena, and these, which may be seen raging and roaring behind them now, will have to fight for their lives to-day. The arena where the combats will take place, is sunken firom 13 to 15 feet below the lowest range of seats, and is fenced around with wooden rollers turning in their sockets, and placed horizontally against the wall, so as to revolve under any wild beast, in case he should attempt to reach the audience by leaping over the boundary wall. For public security, all around the arena are the euripi, or ditches, built by Caesar, and flooded, so as to protect the spectators against the attacks of elephants, which are supposed to be afraid of water. The floor of the arena originally was strewn with yellow sand (and from this its name was derived), so as to afford a sure footing to the gladiators, but Caligula afterwards substituted borax, and Nero added to the borax the splendid red of Cinabar, with which it now is covered. Underneath this is a solid pavement of stones closely cemented so as to hold water; and when the naumachice- or naval battles are given, there are pipes to flood it, so as to form an artificial lake on which galleys may float. Near the northern entrance you will see a flight of broad stairs, through which great machines are sometimes introduced into the arena. The air is filled with perfumes of saflron infused in wine, and balsams, and costly tinctures, and essences, which are carried over the building in concealed conduits, and ooze out over the statues through minute orifices, or scatter their spray into the air. Lucan, you remember, describes this — ** When mighty Rome's spectators meet In the full theatre's capacious seat, At once by secret pipes and channels fed, Rich tinctures gush from every antique head — At once ten thousand saffron currents flow, And rain their odours on the crowd below. " * There is now a sudden stir among the people, and the amphi- theatre resounds with the cry of '-''Ave Imperator^' as the emperor * Rowe's translation, Lucan, Book ix. THE COLOSSEUM— GLADIATORS. 241 in his purple robes, surrounded by his lictors and imperial guard, enters and takes his seat on the elevated chair called the suggestus or cubicidu?n^ opposite to the main entrance. Then sound the trumpets, and the gladiators who are to fight to-day enter the arena in a long procession, and make the tour of the whole amphitheatre. They are then matched in pairs, and their swords are examined by the editor, and even by the emperor, to see if they are sharp and in good condition. After this comes a pra- liisio or sham battle with modern swords and spears. There is the Retiarius clothed in a short tunic, his head, breast, and legs uncovered, and a net upon his arm with which he will strive to entangle his adversary ere he dispatches him with that sharp trident at his side. Near him is his usual adversary, the Myrmtllo, armed with his oblong curving shield and long dagger, and wearing on his head the helmet with the sign of the fish [juop^vpo^), from which he derives his name. There, too, is the Laqueaior with his noose ; the Andabata with his close helmet, through which there are no eyeholes, and who will fight blindfold ; and all the other gladiators, with the Lanistce who accompany them to see that all is fair, and to excite their spirit in the combat. They are now matched and ready. The prcelusio is over ; the trumpet again sounds, and the first on the list advance to salute the emperor before engaging in their desperate contest. In the museum of San Giovanni in Laterano is a large mosaic pavement, taken from the Baths of Caracalla, on which are repre- sented colossal heads and figures of some of the most celebrated gladiators of the day. Their brutal and bestial physiognomies, their huge, over-developed muscles, and Atlantean shoulders, their low, flat foreheads and noses, are hideous to behold, and give one a more fearful and living notion of the horror of those bloody games to which they were trained, than any description in words could convey. They make one believe that of all animals, none can be made so brutal as man. It is very probable that some of these were the favourite gladiators of Caracalla, and made a part of the imperial retinue. They completely throw into the shade all our modern prize-fighters. Deaf Burke, Heenan, and Tom Sayers could not hold a candle to any of them. R 242 ROBA DI ROMA. The famous picture of Gerome, the French artist, gives one a vivid notion of what the spectacle in the Colosseum was at this moment. The fat, brutal, overfed figure of Domitian is seen above in the imperial chair, and in the arena below a little group of gladiators is pausing before him to salute him with their accus- tomed speech. ^^ Ave, Imperator, morituri te salutant I" The benches are crowded row above row with spectators, eager for the struggle that is to take place between the new combatants. They have already forgotten the last, and heed not the dead bodies of man and beast, that slaves are now dragging out of the arena with grappling-irons. A soft light, filtering through the huge tent-like velar hint overhead, illumines the vast circle of the amphitheatre. Thousands of eager eyes are fixed on the little band, who now only wait the imperial nod to join battle, and a murmurous war of impatience and delight seems to be sounding like the sea over the vast assembly. Looking at this picture, one can easily imagine the terrible excitement of a gladiatorial show, when 100,000 hearts were beating with the combatants, and screams of rage or triumph saluted the blows that drank blood, or yelled his fate to the wretched victim as he sank in the arena, and the benches swarm before him. Or take, to aid the imagina- tion, the graphic and vigorous description of this scene given by Amphilochius, in an epistle in verse, to Seleucus, and thus admir- ably translated by Mrs. Browning : — '* They sit, unknowing of these agonies, Spectatoi-s at a show. When a man flies From a beast's jaw, they groan, as if at least They missed the ravenous pleasure, like the beast. And sat there vainly. When in the next spring The victim is attained, and, uttering The deep roar or quick shriek between the fangs, Beats on the dust the passion of his pangs, — All pity dieth in that glaring look. They clap to see the blood run like a brook ; They stare with hungry eyes, which tears should fill, And cheer the beasts on with their soul's goodwill ; And wish more victims to their maw, and urge And lash their fury, as they shared the surge, Gnashing their teeth, like beasts, on flesh of men." COLOSSEUM— VENATIONES. 243 The accounts of the venationes or battles with wild beasts, and of the gladiatorial shows, exhibited in the Colosseum and elsewhere by the ancient Romans, are so amazing as to be scarcely credible- The people seem to have been insatiable in their thirst for these bloody games. They were introduced originally by Lucius Metellus, in the year 251 b.c, when he brought into the circus 142 elephants taken by him in his victory over the Cartha- ginians. This, however, was scarcely a venatio in the sense of later days, for the elephants were killed, as it would seem, only to get rid of them. In the year 186 B.C., however, a real venatio was introduced by M. P'abius, when lions and panthers were exhi- bited. The taste once formed, grew apace, and at a venatio given by Pompey, in the year 55 B.C., upon the dedication of the temple of Venus Victrix, an immense number of animals were slaughtered, among which were six hundred lions and eighteen or twenty elephants. Gsetulians fought with the latter, and drove them to such fury with their javelins, that the enraged beasts strove to break down the railings of the arena and revenge themselves on the audience. Julius Caesar also distinguished himself by his magnificent vetiationes, one of which lasted for five days. In the course of these he introduced giraffes, then for the first time seen in Europe. Titus, as we have seen, on the dedication of the Colosseum, exhibited for slaughter no less than the alrnost in- credible number of 5000 beasts ; * and in the latter days pf Probus there is an account of one of these spectacles, whsre 1000 ostriches, 1000 stags, 1000 boars, besides great numbers of wild goats, wild sheep, and other animals, were destroyed in the circus, for the satisfaction of the Roman people. t So excited and fasci- nated did the audience sometimes become, that they were allowed to rush into the arena among the animals and slay as they chose. On some occasions the arena was planted with large trees so thickly as to resemble a forest, and among them the animals were turned loose, to be hunted down by the people. At another show, Probus exhibited 700 wild beasts, and 600 gladiators. These * Suetonius, Life of Titus. t These are the numbers stated by Vopiscus, in the Life of Probus, p. 233, Hist. Aug. edit. 15 19. 244 ROBA DI ROMA. numbers seem monstrous, and almost lead one to suppose that these beasts could not have been all introduced at once ; yet Suetonius directly tells us that Titus exhibited 5000 beasts " uno die,'' on one day. Indeed, it has been calculated that no less than 10,779 wild beasts might stand together in the arena.* The slaughter of animals at these venationes was not so terrible as that which took place at the gladiatorial shows, where human life was brutally wasted for the amusement of the people. These games are said to have originated in an ancient Etruscan custom of slaying captives and slaves on the funeral pyres of the dead. They were first introduced into Rome by Marcus and Decimus Brutus, at the funeral of their father in the year 264 B.C.; and on the death of P. Lucinius Crassus, Pontifex Maximus, one hundred and twenty gladiators fought for three days, and raw meat was distributed among the people. These games at first were restricted to funerals, but they soon began to be exhibited in the amphitheatre ; and under the empire the taste for them had grown to such madness, that no family of wealth was without its gladiators, and no festival took place without deadly contests between them. Even while the Romans were at their banquets, gladiators were introduced to fight with each other, the guests looking on and applauding, as they sipped their wine, the skilful blows that were followed by blood. Blood was the only stimulant that roused the jaded appe- tites of a Roman, and gave a zest to his pleasures. In the amphitheatres the numbers that fought together almost surpass belief. At the triumph of Trajan over the Dacians more than ten thousand were exhibited, and to such an enormous number had the gladiators increased under the Caesars, that sixty thousand of them are said to have fallen under Spartacus. At last the rage for these games became so great, that not only freemen, but dwarfs, knights, senators, the emperor himself, and even women fought as gladiators, and esteemed it no dishonour.! And such * T. P. Nolli, et Marangoni delle Memorie Sac. et Prof, del Amphit. Flav., PP- 33> 34- t Suetonius, in his Life of Domitian, says, "Venationes gladiatoresque et noctibus ad Lychnuchos dedit ; nee virorum mode pugnas, sed et foeminarum ; " THE COLOSSEUM— NAUMACHI^. 245 was the terrible loss of life in the cirena that Justus Lipsius affirms that no war was ever so destructive of the human race. " Credo, immo scio, nullum bcllum tantain cladetfi vastitiemque generi huma7io iniulisse quam hos ad voluptatem ludos.^^* At times the arena of the Colosseum was flooded with water deep enough to float vessels, and engagements took place where two miniature fleets, laden with gladiators, fought together to represent a naval battle. These iiauviachice were attended with an enormous loss of life, and were exhibited on a scale of great grandeur and magnificence. In one of the sea-fights exhibited by Nero, sea monsters were to be seen swimming round the artificial lake ; in another, by Titus, some 3000 men fought ; and in another, exhibited by Domitian, the ships engaged were almost equal in number to two real fleets. One of the most famous of these naumachtce took place in the reign of Claudius, on the occasion of the draining of Lake Fucinus. In this spectacle the contest was between vessels representing the Rhodian and Sicilian fleets, each consisting of twelve triremes, and having, as Tacitus tells us, 10,000 combatants. These were for the greater part compulsory gladiators {sontes), composed of slaves and captives of war. As they passed the spot where the emperor sat, before engaging, they hailed him with the cry of " Ave, Imperator, morituri te salutant P^ — " Hail, Caesar, those who are to die salute thee ! " To which he responded, " Avete vos,^' — " Health to you ; " — a phrase which they interpreted as an absolution by the emperor from the necessity of exposing their lives for his amuse- ment, and refused to engage. When a message to this effect was brought to Claudius, he sat for a time, as Suetonius tells us, in deep meditation, pondering whether he should destroy them all by setting fire to the vessels and burning them alive, or should allow them to kill each other by the sword. At last he decided upon the latter course, and descending from his seat, he ran with arid Tacitus, in his 12th Book, says, *' Foeminarum senatorumque illustrium plures per arenam foedati sunt. " * Just. Lips. Saturn. Sermon, lib. ii. cap. 3. Any one who is desirous to know more of the gladiators will find an interesting account of them in this curious and learned essay. 246 ROBA DI ROMA. a. vacillating graceless gait {non sine foeda vacillatione discurrens)^ around the borders of the lake, and partly by persuasion, and partly by threats, persuaded them to fight. A circle of beams was built around a vast inclosure, so as to prevent any of these wretched victims from flight, and not only all the ground was guarded by large numbers of horse and infantry, but on the lake itself were covered vessels laden with armed soldiers to keep order. The spectacle must have been magnificent. The banks of the lake, the hill-sides, and mountain- tops were thronged by an enormous crowd, which had flocked to see the battle from Rome and from all the adjacent country. The emperor, robed in imperial purple, presided over the games, and at his side sat Agrippina, in a golden mantle. In the midst of the lake rose from the water, by machinery, a silver triton, who blew a trumpet to sound the attack. The combatants fought with great bravery, and it was not until a large number had been slain that the signal for separation was given. Constantine, and his son Constans, first issued edicts prohibit- ing these gladiatorial shows ; but the appetite for them had become too craving to be denied gratification, and notwithstanding these prohibitions, they continued to flourish, and survived the ancient religion more than seventy years. St. Augustine relates in his "Confessions,"* that about the year 390 a certain Alipius, one of his fellow-students, who had been baptized into the Christian religion at Milan, came to Rome. Here he was strongly urged by his friends to go and see the gladiatorial shows in the Colosseum. At first he refused, but finally yielded to their persuasions, and agreed to accompany them, resolving internally, at the same time, to keep his eyes shut, so as not to see the atrocities which he knew were committed there. This resolution he kept for some time, but at last, startled by a great shout of the people on the occasion of some remarkable feat of skill, poor Alipius, overcome by curiosity, opened his eyes. It was then all over with him; he could not shut them again ; but from moment to moment his excitement grew fiercer and fiercer, until at last his voice was * Ch. viii. lib. 6. COLOSSEUM— MARTYRDOM OF TELEMACJIUS. 247 heard shouting madly with the rest. From that time forward, these games became a sort of insanity in him, and he not only returned to them constantly, but exhorted everybody he knew to accompany him. " Clamavit^ exarstt, abshdit secum insaniam qua stimularetur redire ei alios trahens'^ This story, related by St. Augustine, clearly shows that the gladiatorial games con- tinued in his time; and the verses of Prudentius, written against Symmachus, the prefect of Rome, also prove that they existed in the time of the emperors Valentianus, Theodosius, and Arcadius. On the Kalends of January, in the year 404, a remarkable incident occurred in the Colosseum on the occasion of a gladia- torial show, which is recorded by Theodoret and Cassiodorus.* While, in the presence of an immense crowd of spectators, the gladiators were fighting in the arena, a monkish figure, clothed in the dress of his order, was suddenly seen to rush into the midst of the combatants, and with loud prayer and excited gesture endeavour to separate them. This was an Eastern monk, named Telemachus or Almachius (for such is the chance of fame, that his name is not accurately recorded), who had travelled from the East with the express design of bearing his testimony against these unchristian games, and sacrificing his life, if necessary, to obtain their abolition. The Prgetor Alybius, however, who was pas- sionately attached to them, indignant at the interruption, and excited by the wild cries of the audience, instantly ordered the gladiators to cut the intruder down, and Telemachus paid the forfeit of his life for his heroic courage. But the crown and the palm of martyrdom were given him, and he was not only raised to a place in the calendar among the saints, but accomplished in measure the great object for which he had sacrificed himself; for, struck with the grandeur and justness of the courageous protest which he had sealed with his blodd, the Emperor Honorius abolished the gladiatorial games, and from that time forward * Theod. Hist. Eccles., cap. xxiv. lib. 5. Cassiod. Ix. c. 11. See also Justus Lipsius, Saturn. Serm., lib. ii. cap. iii. Baronius ad Ann., et in Notis ad Martyrol. Rom., i Jan. Augustin. Confess., lib. vi. cap. 8; lib. i. cap. 12. 248 ROBA DI ROMA. no gladiator has fought in the Colosseum against another gladiator. Combats with wild beasts still however continued, as is plain from rescripts of Honorius and Theodosius, ordaining that no one not specially appointed by the imperial ministers should have the right to hunt wild beasts to secure them for the public games, but should only be allowed to kill them in self-defence or in defence of the country. Those venationes in the Colosseum continued down to the death of Theodoric, in 526, when they fell into disuse, and the edict of Justinian absolutely abolished them. Up to this period there is every reason to suppose that the Colosseum was in perfect preservation. Cassiodorus, who de- scribes the games held there in the time of Theodoric, makes no mention of any injury, as he certainly would have done had there been any of importance.* Heretofore it had been kept in repair to serve for the exhibition of gladiatorial shows, but the edict of Justinian, prohibiting all games therein, rendered it useless as an amphitheatre and sealed its fate. Thenceforward it was abandoned to the assaults of time and weather, and to the caprice of man ; and their injuries were never repaired. The earthquakes and floods of the seventh century undoubtedly shook it and destroyed it partially. Barbarians at home and from abroad preyed upon it, boring it for its metal clamps, plundering it of every article of value, defacing its architecture, and despoiling it of its ornaments of silver and gold as well as of its poorer metals. In almost every one of its blocks of tavertine is now to be seen a rudely excavated hole, by which the ingenuity of antiquarians has been greatly exercised ; but it now seems to be agreed on all sides that these holes were made for the purpose of extracting the iron bolts with which the stones were originally clamped together. Still, it would seem to have been entire, or nearly so, as late as the. beginning of the eighth century, when the Anglo-Saxons visited Rome, and, gazing at it with feelings of awe and admiration, * Cassiod., lib. v. Var. Ep. 24; See also Pietro Angelo Barges, in his learned Epistola de Privatorum ^Edif. Urbis. Evcrsoribus. Grasvius Antiq. Rom., torn. 4. COLOSSE UMSPOLIA TIONS. 249 broke forth into the enthusiastic speech recorded by the venerable Bede : " Qiiamdiu stabit Colysceus, stabit et Roma. Quafido cadct^ Colyscetts, cadd et Roma. Quando cadet Roma, cadet et ?nundus.^' Thus Enghshed by Byron : — " While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand ! When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall ! And when Rome falls — the world ! " From this time forward exposed to tumult, battle, and changes of ownership, now occupied as a fortress by the Frangipani, now by the Annibaldi, and wrested from both in turn by pope and emperor, it fell rapidly into ruin, and its walls began to crumble and fall into decay. As early as the year 1362, the Bishop of Orvieto, legate to Pope Urban V., wrote to inform the Pontiff that the stones of the Colosseum had been offered for sale, but no one had proposed to purchase them save the Frangipani family, who v/anted them to build a palace. The government at this period, not placing any value on the Colosseum as a memorial of antiquity, but regarding it merely as a quarry of stone, were in the habit of granting permissions to excavate travertine therefrom to any princely family who could afford to pay for them. Donatus tells us that Paul II. (1464 to 147 1) used the blocks of travertine taken from the ruins of the Colosseum to build his palace of San Marco ; and a monstrous hole was made in it when the great Farnese palace was built out of its spoils.* Nor was this the worst treatment which this noble structure was to suffer. Not only were blocks of travertine removed, but all the marble was torn down and biurnt into lime ; f and to such an extent were the spoliations of this period carried on, as to render it only surprising that anything now remains. This was not the only building thus barbarously served. Poggius relates that, when he first went to Rome, the Temple of Concord was perfect — ^'- op ere ma?'iJioreo admodu7n speciosoj'^ — but that soon after, the * "Per fabbricare il Palazzo Famese gran guasto diede al Anfiteatro di Tito," says Muratori, in his Annals ad An. 1549, torn, x, p. 335. See also Memoires de I'Acad. des Inscrip., torn, xxviii. p. 585. t "Ob stultitiam Romanorum majori ex parte ad calcem redactam," says Poggius, in his Essay De Variet. Fortun. 250 ROBA DI ROMA. whole building, with its splendid marble portico, was pulled down and burnt for lime. The marble of the tomb of Cecilia Metella met the same sad fate ; and Eneas Sylvius, who afterwards became Pope under the title of Pius II., in an epigram written by him, and preserved by Mabillon, expresses a fear that these barbarous practices will finally lead to the destruction of all the ancient monuments : — '* Oblectat me Roma tuas spectare ruinas Ex cujus lapsa gloria prisca patet — Sed tuus hie populus muris defossa vetustis Calceo in obsequium marmora dura coquit. Impia tercentum si sic gens egerit annos Nullum hie indieium nobilitatis erit." Sadly enough, the mausoleum of the great Carian king, Mau- solus, one of the wonders of the ancient world, suffered the same fate. Not only the marble of the architecture, the massive stairs, the splendid columns, but the masterpieces of Greek sculpture, wrought by Scopas and his scholars, were broken to pieces and burnt into lime by the knights of St. John, to build the castle of Budrum.* Marangoni tells us that there was a sale of the stones of the Colosseum in 153 1, and a century afterwards some of them were used in the building of the Campidoglio. Even at the very period of the revival of the arts it would thus seem that no regard was paid to the preservation of the ancient temples. Michael Angelo himself built the Farnese Palace and the Campidoglio, and even he seems not to have protested against this barbarity. Urban VIII. also built, out of the quarry of the Colosseum, the facade of the Barberini Palace, tore the brass plates from the Pantheon to build the hideous baldacchino of St. Peter's, and threatened to serve the remains of the tomb of Cecilia Metella in like manner. * That the last fragments of these noble works have been saved is due to the energy and spirit of Mr. Charles T. Newton, who has thus rendered a valuable serviee, not only to his own eountry, but to the universal republic of art. Mr. Newton has recently published a history of his discoveries at Haliear- nassus, Cnidus, and Branchidae, with extensive illustrations, which is most interesting and instructive. THE COLOSSEUM— DESPOILING OF IT. 251 But the sins of Urban VIII. were small in comparison to those of the Farnese Pope. He spared nothing, levying his exactions not only upon the Colosseum, but ako on the arch of Titus, the baths of Constantine and Caracalla, the forum of Trajan, the temple of Antoninus and Faustina, the theatre of Marcellus, and other buildings, stripping them ruthlessly of their precious marbles and splendid columns. The accounts of the apostolic chamber show a sum of no less than 7,317,888 scudi expended between 1 541 and 1549 on the Palazzo del Campo dei Fiori. Truly, as Gibbon says, " every traveller who views the Farnese Palace may curse the sacrilege and luxury of these upstart princes." To check these abuses, Eugenius IV. is said to have surrounded the Colosseum with a wall, and by a charter long extant, to have granted the grounds and edifice to the monks of a neighbouring convent. But if this wall ever existed, which seems rather doubt- ful, it was overthrown after his death in a tumult of the populace, and no traces of it now remain.* In 1585, Sextus V. endeavoured at once to check this barbarism of destruction and to utilize the Colosseum by establishing in it a woollen manufactory. For many years it had served as the arena for all sorts of fairs, and possibly this fact suggested the notion of making it subservient to some practical use. But after spending on the project 15,000 sciidi^ he abandoned it as impracticable. Let us not grieve ; for from all that can be collected of the plan from the designs of the architect, Fontana, it was the Pope's intention to wall up the arches and arcades, which would simply have ruined the building. A century later, Clement XL revived the project, and went so far as to inclose the lower arcades and establish a manufactory of saltpetre. But this scheme, also, fell through. But better days were now coming. In the year of the Jubilee, 1675, Clement X. set apart the whole building to the worship of * Gibbon, who makes this statement, founds it upon Montfaucon, who received it from Flaminius Vacca, who lived a century after Eugenius, and reported the fact on the testimony of the Olivetan monks of Sta. Maria Nuova. But Marangoni states that, on examining their archives, he found in them no record of such a fact. 252 ROBA DI ROMA. the martyrs. And on the nth February, 1742, Benedict XIV. again consecrated the Colosseum to the memory of the Christian martyrs who had suffered there, and made it a church in 1744. He then erected the cross in the centre of the arena, repaired the altars established by Clement XI., and cleared the place of the robbers and prostitutes by which it had previously been haunted. This act was the salvation of the Colosseum. Taken into the fold of the church it was now cared for, and from this time forward every pains was used to preserve it, and the injuries of time have been constantly repaired. Parts of it, however, were in a very dangerous condition, and in the year 18 13 one of the arches fell to the ground. To prevent the tottering fragments around it from falling, the wall supporting the north-west angle was built by Pius VII., and his successors have faithfully lent their aid to the preservation of the building. It is said that the trembling stones were so threatening that convicts under sentence of death and imprisonment for life were employed to build up this wall, with the promise of pardon if they succeeded ; but whether this state- ment be actually true I cannot affirm. Pius IX. has also made very material restorations, and perhaps in some cases carried them too far ; thus detracting from the an- tique character of the ruins. He has constructed a gigantic but- tress at the southern end, to support the lofty wall, which threat- ened to fall ; and some of the arches and interior walls he has entirely rebuilt. ■ Since the French have taken possession of Rome they have placed a nightly guard at the Colosseum with the object of keep- ing it clear of robbers and thieves, who are said to infest it, and no one now is allowed to pass without a special permission. To ensure safety in the Colosseum by a police is praiseworthy, but strictly to require of all strangers and under all circumstances a special permit, is annoying and unnecessar)^ Tempted by the beauty of the full moon, if you stroll down to the Colosseum for- getful of this regulation, and thinking to pass a pleasant half-hour in its arena, you are suddenly stopped at the entrance by the French sentinel, and all your romantic hopes are dashed by three interrogative words : " Voire per mis, Monsieur V Vainly you pro- COLOSSEUM— FRENCH PROTECTION. 253 test that you are strangers and not robbers, that your objects are most peaceful, and that such rules cannot apply to you. You have only the short irritating rejoinder, " On ne pent pas passer^ sans un permis^'' — and to this the sentinel will stick with sullen obstinacy. No offers of money or cigars, no bland words, no expressions of disappointment, no reasonings avail to move him. He gives you no sympathy, curtly prohibits your coming in, and leaves you to console yourself as you can — while he marches up and down under the dark arches. Of course, you go away irritated and vexed, and in a mood crossly to criticize the French and their occupation of Rome. You become very unreasonable, and do not perceive that, without this occupation, the "legitimate in- fluence of France," whatever that may happen to be, could not be sustained in the Eternal city — that it is better to have an annoying police than to run the risk of being assaulted and robbed in the Colosseum — that among so bloodthirsty and violent a people, as the Romans are said to be, it would be impossible for your life and property to be safe in the hands only of a Roman police, — and that the Romans are very unreasonable in their dislike of the French, who have done so much for their civilization by introducing plate- glass in some of the shops in the Condotti and Corso, importing their hats, bonnets, and crinoline to take the place of the fooHsh old costumes which used to be seen in the streets, opening a num- ber of little wine shops; and new cafes, amusing the promenaders on the Pincio by their bands, enlivening the streets by their soldiers, playing incessantly on that charming instrument, the drum, along the Via Sacra and around the Palace of the Caesars, and more than this, by keeping the city safe with their nightly patrol of soldiers. If the Emperor have not fulfilled the pledges contained in the famous letter to Edgar Ney, the French Com- mandant has given many receptions and balls, where one could have the privilege of meeting a number of French officers, whom one might not otherwise have met in society. The French, it is true, have not learned to speak Italian, but is it no advantage that they have taught the Italians to speak very bad French ? Surely the Romans are no longer open to the reproach made to them by a French officer a few years ago, who said " Comme Us sont betes, 254 ROBA DI ROMA. ces Italiens, il y a dix ans que nous sommes id, et Us ne savent pas encore parler le Franfais^ * After the edict of Justinian, prohibiting the celebration of any games, either of gladiators or of wild beasts, these exhibitions fell into discredit, and for a long period the Colosseum was entirely- abandoned. But from time to time in succeeding centuries, efforts were made to revive the exhibitions of wild beasts in the arena, and bull-fights were not unfrequent. The last of these seems to have taken place in the year 1332, and Ludovico di Bonconte Monaldeschi has quaintly described it in his annals of the period, printed in the apppendix to the great work of Muratori.f Though his narrative is probably taken from the account of others rather than from his own memoiy, he having been only five years of age when the exhibition took place, yet it bears the stamp of truth deeply impressed on it in every part. " This festival took place," he says, " on the 3rd of November. All the matrons of Rome were present standing in the balconies, which were lined with scarlet. There was the beautiful Savella Orsini and two others of her family ; and there were the Donne Colonnesi, though La Giovane could not be present because she had broken her foot in the garden of the tower of Nero ; and there was also there the beautiful Jacova di Vico, or Rovere ; and these ladies led all the beautiful women of Rome. The Rovere leading the Trasteverine women, the Orsini those of Piazza Navona and San Pietro, and the Colonnesi all the rest. All the noble ladies were in one circle, all the ladies of lower rank in another, and the combatants in a third ; and the huntings were by lot, drawn by old Pietro Jacovo Rossi, from St. Angelo in Pes- cheria. The first cacciatore was a foreigner from Rimini, named Galeotto Malatesta, who was dressed in green, with a rapier in his hand, and on his iron helmet was inscribed this motto, ' Solo to come Oratio^ (I alone like Horatius ;) and he rushed forward to meet the bull, and wounded him in the left eye, so that the bull took to flight. He then gave the beast a blow behind, and received * The French have now gone (1870), but the passage may stand as a record of the past. f Muratori Script. Rerum. Ital., torn. xii. pp. 535, 536. BULL-FIGHTS AND PASSION FLAYS. 255 therefor a kick on his knee, which knocked him over, but the bull continued to flee and did not attack him. Then, greatly excited (tuito tnjieriio), Cicco della Valle rushed forth, dressed in half black and half white, and the motto he carried on his helmet was ' lo son Enca per Lavinia^' (I am ^neas for Lavinia) ; and this he did because the daughter of Messer Jovinale, of whom he was desperately enamoured, was named Lavinia. While he was fighting valiantly with the bull another was let in, which was attacked by Mezzo Stallo, a stout youth dressed as a negro ; his wife being dead, he bore the motto ' Cost sconsolato vivo,' (Thus, disconsolate I live) ; and he bore himself bravely against the bull." A crowd of other nobles also were there with various emblems and escutcheons, a number of which are given by this old author, — " besides many," he continues, " whom I should weary to enume- rate. Each assaulted his bull, and eighteen of the combatants were killed and nine wounded, while only eleven bulls were killed. Great honours were paid to the bodies of the dead, which were carried to Sta. Maria Maggiore and San Giovanni in Laterano to be buried. The nephew of Camillo Cencio having been thrown down in the crowd, through the fault of the son of Count An- guillara's sister, Cencio gave him a blow on the head, which instantly killed him, and a great tumult ensued. There was a great crowd at St. Giovanni to see the burial of those who were killed at the games." During the fifteenth century it was the custom from time to time to represent passion plays or mysteries on a broad platform over the Colosseum steps, just above the site where, a century later, the chapel was founded. Every Good Friday the death and burial of our Saviour was performed to an audience as large, if we may credit the words of Pancirolus,* as that which formerly attended the antique games. This " mystery " was in oitava rima, rudely composed in the commonest dialect of the people, with an intermezzo of various little airs which were probably sung. Two examples of these are to be found, says Marangoni, in the library of the Marchese Alessandro Capponi. The " sacra farsa " — the * Tesori Nascosti. See Marangoni, Mem. Sac. et Prof., p. 59. 256 ROB A JDI ROMA. Holy Farce of the Resurrection (for so Tiraboschi calls it,)* written by Julian Dati, a Florentine, was also performed here. These plays continued until the reign of Paul III., who prohibited them, apparently for no other reason than that they impeded him in robbing the Colosseum of marble and stones for building. After this, for more than a century, there was no public amuse- ment in the Colosseum, saving for those who employed that time in plundering it. But in 167 1 permission was granted by the senate and Cardinal Altieri to represent bull-fights in the arena for six years. This raised a great outcry, and Carlo Tommassi wrote a tract to prove the sanctity of the spot, and to urge the impropriety of reinstating such barbarous usages; which so affected the mind of the pope, Clement X., that he prohibited them, and took measures to prevent them by blocking up the lower arches and consecrating the place. In 17 14 Clement XI, established the altars of the Passion, and shortly after were painted the pictures of Jerusalem and the Crucifixion that are now seen over the southern entrance. I have hitherto not spoken of the martyrs who perished for their faith in the Colosseum. These are generally supposed to have amounted to thousands ; but Marangoni, who is a careful man and not disposed to exaggerate facts, puts the number of martyrs known, and not merely conjectured, to have suffered in this arena at only twenty-four. Of these, eighteen were men, beginning with St. Ignatius and ending with Telemachus ; and six were women. Of the latter, three — ^Sta. Martina, Sta. Italiana and Sta. Prisca — were exposed to lions, who, instead of devouring them, licked their feet. And one, Sta. Daria, wife of St. Crisanto, according to Marangoni, " was under the vaults (sotte le volte) of the Amphitheatre, where her chastity was defended by a lion." Da un leonefu difesa la sua castita.-\ * Storiadell. Litt. Ital,, vol. vi. p. 3; Lib. iii. p. 814. t Leones, as Lord Broughton suggests, may, perhaps, be better read lenonesy for it is well established that ^^ sotte le volte''' was a place devoted to brothels, where a woman was more in danger of panders {lenones) than of lions {leones) ; and in fact the very word "fornicators" is derived from ''fornices," the places under the vaults. Her chastity needed not the defence of any one in the arena, THE COLOSSEUM— MARTYRS, 257 Besides these, there were two hundred and sixty anonymous soldiers under Claudius, who, after digging an arena outside the Porta Salara, were killed, and placed among the records of the Christians as martyrs. Doubtless, however, says Marangoni, there were many others besides those mentioned, whose names we do not know, who were exposed to death under the cruel orders of Diocletian, as is evident from the testimony of Tertullian.* The manner in which Christian martyrs were exposed to the wild beasts is shown by some small rilievi in bronze found in the catacombs, where the lions are represented as chained to a pilaster, and the martyrs lie naked and unarmed at their feet. It seems also that the sacrifice of the Christians generally ended the day's sport. When the other shows were over, the condemned Christians were brought into the arena through files of the hunters of the wild beasts, who beat them with rods as they passed. Some of the women were stripped and exposed in nets, and some were tortured because they would not assume the ceremonial robes worn in the worship of the pagan divinities. Every refinement of cruelty was undoubtedly practised upon a sect who were supposed to worship an ass, and who were thought to plot against the state. It would seem, however, that the Christians, so long as they did not meddle with political questions, but confined themselves to their religious doctrine and duties, were left unmolested. In Rome all creeds were free — and any one might with complete impunity- worship Isis, Bacchus, Moses, Appollonius, Mythras, Simon of Gitton, or any other divinity or prophet. But the Christians did not confine themselves within their sphere of worship and faith — they were aggressive, and sought to turn into ridicule and con- tempt the religion of the state, if not the state itself. It was this that led to their persecution. They deemed it to be their duty to overthrow this religion and to defame it, believing it to be de- grading and wicked. But it should always be borne in mind that however it might below the vaults ; and the old well-known proverb Christiani ad hones, virgines ad leones — seems to favour this view of the martyrdom of Sta. Daria. * Cap. 42, Apologia. See also Arringhi Roma Sotter, lib. ii. cap. i ; tom. i, p. 197, edit. 1651. S 258 ROB A DI ROMA. their martyrdom in these ancient days resulted from their aggres- siveness and not the intolerance and bigotry of the Romans. Undoubtedly many were falsely accused, and many who were innocent suffered ; but the accusation was of treason against the state, and so many Christians had attempted its overthrow, that, at last, to be a Christian was to be a suspected traitor. When we speak with horror of that ferocious spirit which dragged to torture and death the innocent and virtuous, merely because they differed from the religious dogma of the day, and refused to bow down before the pagan gods, we speak without book. This was not the ground of accusation but the test of loyalty, — and let us also remember that the Catholic Church in later days, when it had attained a power as extensive as that exercised by Imperial Rome, was guilty of fouler wrong and more infamous cruelty, and that the numbers of victims that were sacri- ficed by the Inquisition in the single reign of Philip II. out- number by thousands those who perished under the Roman Em- perors. Nor let us plume ourselves too much on our religious tolerance even at the present day. The horrors of the past would not, thank God ! be now within the bounds of possibility ; but bigotry and persecution have by no means ceased, and infidel and atheist are words which are widely and generally thrown against those who differ in their creed from the established church. Pius V. used to say that whoever desired to obtain a Christian or Catholic relic, should take some earth from the arena of the Colosseum, where it had been cemented by so much holy blood ; and whenever the Cardinal Ulderico Carpegna passed the spot, says Marangoni, this pious gentleman always stopped his carriage, gratefully to commemorate the names of the holy martyrs who had suffered there. Such are some of the memories which haunt the crumbled shell of the Colosseum. After all the bloodshed, and murder, and battle, arid martyrdom, how peaceful and tranquil it seems ! Above us wheel the swallows, that build their ''procreant cradles" far up upon the jutting frieze and buttress of the lofty walls, where the air is delicate. There sound the clanging crows, flying blackly THE COLOSSEUM. 2 so along when "night thickens." There flocks of doves build and breed among the ruins and sail out into the blue deeps. All the benches are draped with weeds and grasses, and festooned with creepers and flowers. Many a strange and curious plant may here be seen, peculiar to the place, and these have been recorded in a little volume by Dr. Deakin on the " Flora of the Colosseum." The place remembers not its ancient horrors, as it sleeps in the full sunlight of an Italian day, — but when the shadows of night come on, and the clouds blacken above, and the wind howls through the empty galleries and arches, and the storm comes down over the Colosseum, the clash of the gladiators may still be heard, the roar of the multitudinous voices crying for blood rise on the gale, and those broken benches are thronged with a fearful audience of ffhosts. CHAPTER X. MIMES, MASKS, AND PUPPETS. *' Andad con Dios, buena Gente, y hazad vuestra fiesta, porque desde muchacho fui ajicionado a la Caratula, y en mi mocedad se ne ivan los ojos tras la Farandula." — Don Quixote. From the earliest times the Romans distinguished themselves as Minii and Fantomimi. These were divided into two distinct classes ; the Mimt being farcers who declaimed, while the Panto- mimic as we have seen, only gesticulated. Some of these characters still remain in Italy. The Sanniones are clearly our modern clowns of the circus, with their somewhat doubtful jokes, their exaggerated grimacing, and the ears on their caps. The Plani- pedes in many respects resemble Harlequin, and particularly in their long dresses, shaved heads, painted faces, and coats of various colours. The lihyphalli and Fhallophori, thank heaven ! have utterly disappeared. But Pulcinella is a direct descendant of the old and famous family of the Aicllance. If you may trust Capponi, and other learned Italians who have investigated his origin, his pedigree may be clearly traced to these farcers, who were the Ciarlatani of Rome in the early days of Tarquin. They were Oscans, and came from the town of Atella, now St. Elpido, only five or six miles from Naples, and the very head-quarters of the real Pulcinella. Thus, for more than twenty-four hundred years, he has clung to his native soil and followed in the footsteps of his famous ancestor, Maccus. If you disbelieve this pedigree, Pulci- nella will show you his ancestral statues in bronze dug out of Herculaneum, and his ancestral portraits on the walls of Pompeii ; and Capponi, pointing out to you their beaked or chicken nose, — a family peculiarity which their descendant still retains in his MIMES AND MASKS— PULCINELLA. 261 mask, — will explain that the modem name is merely a nickname derived therefrom — pullus being a chicken, and pidlicinus a little chicken, and Pullicindlns or Pulcinella, a little chicken-nosed fellow. In like manner, the word Ciarlatini may be a mere cor- ruption of Atcl/ance. These AiellaiicB Fabulce, or Ludi Osd, were plays performed by the Oscans on planks and trestles, before the invention of the regular theatres ; and Maccus, then priino co7?u'co, great ancestor to our Ftdchidla, from under his mask amused the ancient Romans with his wit and satire. When these mimes spoke, they grimaced like modern buftbons, and jested to the delight of Livy and Cicero. Their parts were often woven into dramas, to which they did not properly belong, as Livy tells us ; and in this respect, also, they performed precisely the part of Piddnella, who is a constant inter- loper in plays, in which his character is entirely interpolated. Such was their repute, that even Sylla, the bloody dictator, is said to have written plays for them ; and it is quite clear that they were favourites during the days of the Caesars. The well-spring of fun in Puldnella is Artesian and inexhaustible. He will never die, — never till fools are no more and we are all wise and wretched. In Rome, as well as in Naples, he is a great favourite ; though to be seen to advantage he should be visited in his native country. In his long loose white jacket and panta- loons, his beaked mask covering the upper portion of his whitened face, Ptddnella is for ever intriguing, doctoring, bringing lovers together, creating imbrogd, and laughing at his victims with the utmost impertinence. He is always married, — his wife and mother-in-law are in a chronic state of quarrel, — and his house is a constant battle-field of humour and absurdity. In one of the plays of Puldnella he has a struggle with the devil, whom he catches at last by the tail. This he pulls at fiercely, when, to his great astonishment, it comes off, and the father of evil vanishes, leaving it in his hands. At first he is dumb and confounded with amazement, all of which is expressed by the most extraordinary grimace. Finally, he smells at the end of it, and a grin of satisfaction widens his mouth. Again he smells, indicating by expressive pantomime that the odour is un- 262 ROBA DI ROMA. commonly good. At last an idea seizes him, he pulls out his knife, and, slicing off a piece as if it were a sausage, puts it into his mouth. Now his delight knows no bounds, but, with absurd expressions of satisfaction, he continues to cut off slice after slice, offering them first to the audience, and then, repenting of his generosity, slipping it into his ov/n mouth, until he has eaten up the whole tail. Stenterello^ the Tuscan type of humour, is also a favourite on the Roman stage, and he, together with Fulcinella, hold their high quarters at the Capranica Theatre, alternating with music and juggling, ballet and pantomime, and sometimes with serious opera, tragedy, and high comedy, in delighting the crowd of Romans. Sten- terello is of the illustrious family of the queues. His face is painted in streaks, one front tooth is wanting in his mouth, and he wears the old tricornered hat and long-tailed coat and breeches. He is an embodiment in caricature of the worst defects of the Tuscan character, and derives his name probably from his excessive par- simony. The lower Florentines live meanly, are given to saving, deny themselves in the quantity and quality of their food, and exist, according to the Tuscan idiom, ''''a ste^ito" — and hence, pro- bably, the name of Stenterello. This trait is so well established that the almanacs of Florence, circulated among the common people, contain advice not to be thrifty and saving, but to live more liberally. Stenterello^ therefore, on the stage, carries this vice to its extreme, and by his ludicrous efforts at saving, convulses the audience. Another of his characteristics is low cunning. He is always wishing to marry for the sake of money, but laughs at the notion of love, — is penny wise and pound foolish, — will not spend a paul in hand for the hope of a thousand in the bush, and says to his mistress, " I would not leave you and lose the marriage for — for — for — '■ sette crazie^" (seven farthings). He stirs the laughter of the people, too, by his filthy habits, puts his comb and shoe-brush into his pocket with his cheese, and when he hears his bride is coming (for he is always on the point of marriage) he wipes his shoes with his sleeve, and then polishes off his mouth and whiskers with it. Besides this he is a great coward, and it is a common jest to make a soldier of him. Nothing will rouse his courage but an attempt MIMES AND MASKSSTENTERELLO. 263 upon his money. Yet he hkes to set other persons by the ears and see them fight, at which he laughs uproariously, but is seized with a ludicrous terror when his own turn comes. He often has a servant, " Stoppino^' whom he keeps at the starving point, and whose name signifies a meagre thin taper. In the quality of cowardice he resembles Pulcindla ; but our Neapolitan friend does not deny his stomach its gratification, for the Lazzarone is a gourmand, while the Florentine is not. One of the most celebrated of the actors of Stcnterello is, or rather was, Lorenzo Cannelli ; but he is now past the time of acting. When the Austrians took possession of Tuscany he was so bitter in his sarcasms that he often paid for them by bastonate. Nothing, however, would rule his tongue. The audience, just before the last act, used to call him out to improvise '' otiave,'' and, after walking up and down the stage for a few minutes, he would pour forth with volubihty verses full of spirit and humour. The old Fiano Theatre, which was to Rome what the San Carlino is to Naples, exists no more, and the once famous Cassan- drino and Rugantino have disappeared with it. Cassa?idrmo was to the Romans what Piildnella is to the Neapolitans and Stente- rello to the Tuscans. He was dressed, '■^alla Spagmiola,'' m black, was pretentious and boastful, thought the women were all in love with him, and was constantly vaunting his great exploits, that had no existence out of his imagination. But it was for his satire that he was particularly noted, for the Roman is by nature a satirist. His constant lampoons against the government and the priests bit so deeply that he was suppressed by Gregory XVI. After Pius IX. came to the Papal throne he was again permitted to act ; but the French finally suppressed him when they brought back the Pope from Gaeta. The Teatro Fiano was at the corner of the Piazza San Lorenzo in Lucina and the Corso, in the old Fiano Palace. Before the portone, every night, stood a fellow with a trumpet, who sounded a call, and cried out to the passers-by to come and buy their tickets. *' Vcnite, vaiite tutii^' he cried, " a sentire Cassandrino. Se cotnprate higlictti — grazie — se non'' — here a pause, and '' accidente'' was added in a low voice. 264 ROB A DI ROMA. Cassandrino was a superior or noble Riigantino, with more bombast and swell of pretension, but less menacing and defiant. One was a satire on the nobility, and the other the buffoon of the people. Riigajitino (the growler) was so called because he was always complaining of his fate, always maltreated, always threaten- ing revolt, and always bearing any amount of oppression with dogged patience. He was a short swaggering fellow, in a long dress coat, tricornered hat and wig, carried a great sword with which he was always threatening to do great exploits, ail alone, — talked in big words, to give an idea of blood-thirstiness and courage, but in moments of danger took to his heels in the most abject manner. Each of these characters speaks in the lowest popular dialect of his countiy — Stenterello in pure Tuscan /^/^/i-, Fulcinella in the Lazzaroni Neapolitan, and Cassa?idrino in the Trastevere dialect. These dialects of Italy are very different. The Venetian is soft and whispering ; one of its chief peculiarities being in the constant use of the x, s, or z, which have usurped the place of the harder consonants. The Genoese is peculiarly harsh and unpleasant, abounding in the nasal tones of the French. The Neapolitan mumbles his truncated words, while the letters m and n seem to be constantly running about and getting between their legs. The Florentine and Sienese are in the same sad case with the letter h; it is omnipresent, forcing itself headlong into the body of words where it has no business, and usurping the place of c, ch, and qu. The pronunciation of the Sienese is, how- ever, far more agreeable than that of the Florentines ; and even among the common people a purity and richness of language is preserved, which is quite remarkable. The Roman patois is different from all, but its features are not so strongly marked. Dante, in his book, " De Vulgari Elo- quentia," calls it the most unpleasant of all Italian dialects ; but I fear there was a little Tuscan jealousy in this judgment. The Florentines were always violent upon the subject of their own dialect, and their judgment may fairly be questioned, when we recall the persecution to which Girolamo Gigli was subjected by the Academia della Crusca, because he dared in his celebrated '' Vocabolario Cateriniano" to put forward the claims of his MIMES AND MASKS— ITALIAN DIALECTS. 265 native Siena, in opposition to those of Florence. For this offence he was not only expelled from the Academy, but a suit was insti- tuted against him, and he was prohibited from continuing to print his vocabolario when he had reached the letter R. Nor were the Academicians satisfied with this — they went so far as to induce the Grand Duke to order all the copies of his book to be burnt by the public executioner, and to exile the author, until he was driven by the pressure of poverty and threats of further persecution to make a forced retractation. We may, therefore, take the judgment of Dante, perhaps, as not free from a certain prejudice in favour of his own Florence. In its vocabulary, the Tuscan is undoubtedly richer than the Roman, but the slow open utterance of the Romans is so universally admitted to be the most agreeable in Italy, as to have passed into the saying Lingua Toscana in hocca Romana. No one passing directly from Naples, Genoa, or Florence to Rome can fail to experience a certain relief in the change from the thick confused utterance of the one to the clear enunciation of the other. Nor are there wanting those who affirm that the Roman dialect retains more of the Latin than is to be found in the Tuscan, which, though fuller in its vocabulary, is more of a patois. If you would hear the Trastevere dialect, go to the Teatro Emiliano, where there are theatrical performances every night, and you will hear it as it is spoken by the lowest classes in Rome. The peculiar characteristic of the Roman dialect, as of the Roman humour, is its satire. It abounds in proverbial utterances, in transferred phrases, in odd similes and metaphors, in vivid impersonations, and satirical nicknames of persons and things. Consonants are misplaced, gi'ammar upset, and words are often ludicrously mispronounced, but there is a sharpness and wit in their idiomatic speech which stings and tickles. Nothing can exceed their picturesqueness of utterance. Let any one offer for anything an inadequate price, the answer will as likely as not be ^'' 7ion pozzumus ;'' ripped and gaping shoes they call " Le scarpe che rideno ; " a footman in livery, behind a carriage, is ^^ un uditor di Roia ;'^ the back of the head is " /^ memoria;'' a turnkey, " U7i servo di Pilato ; " a princely or papal palace, 266 ROBA DI ROMA. ^^ un miracolo di S. Pietro ;^^ one's children, "^r sanque mio ;^'' a soldier is " er zor tajja-calli ; " a chatterer is a " capo cf abisser To spit blood is ^^ Fare il cardinali in petto. ^^ Their phrases to denote astonishment are of the oddest character, — as '■^ Baccon- naccio! Capper i ! Christog-gesumaria f^ Their " spropositi " are equally absurd — digestion becomes ^' rindigestione ;'' a lawyer is '■'■ er leggabile ;^^ the pax tecum is ^^ er pasteco ; " any great painter is Raffaelle Bonaroto ; II and del are changed to er and der, and / constantly becomes r, as ^^ concrustotte ^^ for conchismie. The infinitive is always truncated, with the accent thrown forward, as benedt for benedtre, canta for cantare. Whoever would study the dialect of the common people may find it admirably given in the humorous and satirical poems of Giuseppe Belli, which not only are wonderfully true to the utterance of the Romans, but also to their spirit : of course, it must always be borne in mind that this dialect is of the lower and most ignor- ant classes. The following sonnets by Belli will give a notion of his humour and of the Roman dialect. I have j:aken the liberty of simplifying the spelling a little in order to make them more intelligible to my readers. In the first the nurse is showing off the baby : — " Er Pupo. " Che ber truttrii ! oh dio mio ! che ciammellona ! No, prima fate servo a nonno e zio Fateje servo, via, sciumaco mio — E poi sc'e la bella e la buona — Bravo Pietruccio ! — E come fa er Giudio ? Fa aeo ? Bravo Pietruccio ! — E la misciona ? Fa ggnao ? Bravo Pietruccio ! — E quanno sona ? Fa ddindi? Bravo ! — e mo dove sta Iddio? Sta lassu ? Bravo ! Ebbe ? E la Pecorella ? Fate la pecorella a zio e nonno — E pio sc'e la buona e la bella. Oh, zitto, zitto ! via : noo, nu la vonno — Eccolo er cavalluccio e la sciammella .... Eh, si stranisce un po', me e tutto sonno." MIMES AND MASKS— PUPPETS. 267 " Le Fatkhe der Papa. "Ah ! non fa ggncnte er Papa? ah non fa ggniente ! Ah non fa ggncnte, kii, bruttc marmotte? Accusi vi pijasse un accidente ! Come er Papa fatica, giorno e notte ! Chi parla co Dio Padre omnipotente ? Chi assorve tanti fiji de mignotte? Chi va in carozza a benedi la ggente, Chi manna fora 1' indulgenze a botte ? E chi je conta li cotrini sui? Non e lui che ci fa li cardinal! ? Le gabelle, per Dio, non le fa lui ? E quel antra fatica da facchino Li strappa tutto er giorno memoriali E butta Hi a pezzetti in der cestino." If one would see the characteristic theatres of the basso popolo and study their manners, he should go to the Teatro Emiliano in the Piazza Navona, or the Fico, so called from the street in which it is situated. At the former the acting is by respectable puppets ; at the latter the plays are performed by actors, or, ^^ pefsonaggi" as they are called. The love for the acting of burattmt, or puppets, is universal among the lower classes throughout Italy, and in some cities, especially in Genoa, no pains are spared in their costume, construction, and movement, to render them life- like. They are made of wood, are generally from two to three feet in height, with very large heads, and supernatural glaring eyes that never wink, and are clad in all the splendours of tinsel, velvet, and steel. Their joints are so flexible that the least weight or strain upon them effects a dislocation, and they are moved by wires attached to their heads and extremities. Though the largest are only about half the height of a man, yet, as the stage and all the appointments and scenery are upon the same scale of proportion, the eye is soon deceived and accepts them as of life- size. But if by accident a hand or arm of one of the wire- pullers appears from behind the scenes, or descends below the hangings, it startles you by its portentous size ; and the audience in the stage-boxes, instead of reducing the burattini to Lilliputians by contrast, as they lean forward, become themselves Brobding- nagians, with elephantine hands and heads. 268 ROBA DI ROMA. Do not allow yourself to suppose that there is anything ludicrous to the audience in the performances of these wooden burattini. Nothing, on the contrary, is more serious. No human being could be so serious. Their countenances are solemn as death, and more unchanging than the face of a clock. Their terrible gravity when, with drooping heads and collapsed arms, they fix on you their great goggle eyes, is at times ghastly. They never descend into the regions of conscious farce. The plays they perform are mostly heroic, romantic, and historical. They stoop to nothing which is not startling in incident, imposing in style, and grandiose in movement. The wars of the Paladins, the heroic adventures of knights and ladies of romance, the tragedies of the middle ages, the prodigies of the melodramatic world, are within their special province. The heroes that tread the fantoc- cini stage are doughty warriors, who perform impossible feats of prowess, slay armies with a single arm, rescue injured damsels, express themselves in loud and boastful language, utter exalted sentiments, and are equally admirable in love and war. No worthy fantoccino shrinks before an army, or leaves the boards of battle till it is covered with the corpses of his enemies. The audience listen with grave and profound interest. To them the actors are not fantoccini, but heroes. Their inflated and extravagant discourse is simply grand and noble. They are the mighty x which represents the unknown quantity of boasting which potentially exists in the bosom of every one. Do not laugh when you enter, or the general look of surprise and annoyance will at once recall you to the proprieties of the occasion. You might as well laugh in a church. I know no better way of giving an idea of the ordinary per- formances at the Teatro Emiliano, and the Teatro della Muse, as the Fico magniloquently calls itself on the bills, than by an account of an evening I passed at them last June. At each theatre there are two performances, or ca??ierate, every evening; one commencing at Ave Maria, and the other at ten o'clock. We arrive at the Teatro Emiliano just too late for the first, as we learned at the ticket-ofhce. " What is that great noise of drums inside?" asked we. ^' Battaglie" said the ticket-seller. MIMES AND MASKS-FUPPET PLAYS. 269 " Shall we see a battle in the next piece ? " " Eh ! se?npre battaglicy' — ahvays battle, — was the reproving answer. Outside were two hand-carts ; one with refreshments of sherbets, or ^^pappine^^ as they are called in Trastevere dialect, sold at one baiocco the little glass ; and the other filled with oblong slabs of hard stony gingerbread and *' briiscolini,^' or pumpkin seeds salted and cooked in a furnace ; which are the favourite picking of the Roman populace on all festal occasions. The bill pasted outside informed us that the burattini were to play to-night, ^'' La Gratidiosa opera intitolata il Bdisario^ ossia le aventure di Oreste, Ei'silia, Falsierone., Selinguerro ed il terribil Gobbo." " The grandiose opera entitled BeHsarius, or the adven- tures of Orestes, Ersilia, Falsierone, Selinguerro, and the terrible LLunchback.'^ In the names themselves there was a sound of horror and fear. Prices in the platea^ two baiocchi; in the loggiata, three baiocchi. Private boxes are also to be obtained for five baiocchi the seat ; and some of my female friends having taken a box one night, were received by the audience on their entrance with loud cheers. We, however, only allowed ourselves the luxury of a loggiata seat. But there are three-quarters of an hour to wait before the per- formance begins — how shall we pass them? "At the Fico," suggested the ticket-seller. " There you may pass the time toler- ably, though," he added contemptuously, "there are no ^ fantoccini^ there, nothing but ^ personaggi.^ " Acknowledging the inferiority of mere human acting; as compared with that of the puppets, we accepted the advice, which seemed good, and off we set through the narrow damp streets and squares, where great blocks of moon- light and shadow lay cut out on the pavement, and finally arrived before a shabby house, which we recognized as the theatre by the two lanterns hung outside. Some few persons were standing near the door ; and from the open windows of the theatre itself, others, leaning out, cried across the street to the vendors of bruscolini to toss them up a cornetto of seeds. The evening was warm outside, but the air within the loggiata was thick, slab, and steamy with perspiration. The curtain was down. The audience, in a state of extreme dishabille, were, some of them, sprawling on 270 ROBA DI ROMA. the benches; some leaning over the front of the loggiata, and conversing with friends in the pit below. Here were men with by no means immaculate linen, many of them in their shirt-sleeves and bare feet as they had come from their work. Mothers with only a chemise from the waist up, dra\\Ti round the neck, and soothing the fretful babies they held in their arms by the simple and ef&cacious method of giving them the breast. Nothing at all improper was thought or done, but the audience was simply different from what one sees at the Apollo, and less attention had been paid to shoAV — decidedly. In the centre was a three-armed brass chandelier for illumination; all three lights turned up high and in full smoke. In a moment the bell tinkled, and out came an actor before the curtain, nearly touching with his head the top of the stage. He announced, to what he denominated " il culto publico ^^ that the next week was to appear ^^una bella baciochetta^^ and who, having too much " vergogna " to demand the favour of their company herself, had delegated " // geniil invito " to him. The culto publico mani- fested its interest in this announcement by a series of inquiries as to who she was, and when she would appear, and what was her name, and other similar questions ; all of which being answered to their satisfaction, they promised to come ; and the actor, bowing addio, bumped out of sight through the curtain, rather ignominiously. Then the play began. The bill of fare was a pantomime entitled '■^ La Zingarclla^^^ and a comedy, "m diaktto Romanesco^^ called " Peppo ej' Chiavaro e Pepe er mwatore, ovvero er primo giorno della sposalizio alle quattro Fontanel This was unfortunately over, it having been performed at the first camerata — for here, as at the Emiliano, are two performances nightly ; one, the " Lu?iga,^^ at five baiocchi the seat, and the second, the " Corta^' at two baiocchi. We were forced, therefore, to content ourselves with " La Zingarella," which now began. Two " reali person7iaggi^^ the king and the queen, first make their appearance, accompanied by a courtier and a little girl, their daughter. They have come to walk in a garden. There is much gesticulation of pleasure and affection, pressure of both hands on MIMES AND MASKS—PANTOMIME PLAY. 271 the bosom, and wriggling of shoulders, pointing at the child, and making the circuit of their fliccs with their thumb and fingers, and floating out and waving of hands. This over, the " reali person- aggP^ motion addio, and leave the child alone with the courtier, who at once prays her to dance. She is not only ^^ prima bal Icrina^^ but the whole ^^ corps de ballet'^ in her one little person, though she is evidently not more than eight years of age. Never- theless, the audience, which is far from critical, is charmed, and loudly applauds as she finishes a shawl dance with not the freshest gauze mantle, nor, shall I dare to say it {con rispetto) the cleanest or best-gartered stockings. However, that is to be pardoned — they are probably her mother's. The courtier now leaves her alone for a moment, with no other apparent object than to enable two or three Contrabandistas (for of course the scene is in Spain, we knew that from the title of the pantomime) to rush in, seize the little princess, tear off her flower-wreath, and away with her. Immediately on their exit the courtier appears, followed by her royal parents, who, on finding her gone, make terrible pantomime of despair — beating their foreheads and rushing up and down the stage. The courtier then madly plunges through the coulisses, and reappears with the wreath, when a great tableau of horror takes place, and the curtain falls. When the second act opens, ten years have elapsed, as a little gamin at our side assiduously explains, and the little girl has grown into a Zingarella, a fortune-teller. She now comes with the Contra- bandistas, and meets the courtier and the courtier's son, who, naturally, is to be the Deus ex machifid. Ah ! it is a case of love at first sight. She tells his fortune — he gives her a bouquet — and then she is carried away by those cruel Contraba?tdistas. It is evidently all over with him. How he presses his breast, and wriggles, and passes his thumb and finger round the outline of his face, and looks up to heaven deprecatingly ! But the courtier is a hard father — he sternly commands him not to see her. But he escapes and flees to find her. In the next scene the tired Contra- bandistas come in and sleep ; she only wakes — to kiss her bouquet, and press her bosom and wriggles. Ah ! who is this ? — it is — ah ! no I — it is not — yes ! it is . the courtier's son. They meet — what 272 ROBA DI ROMA. rapture ! — he kneels to her — when suddenly the fierce Contra- bandistas awake. There are passionate threats — he protests — swears he loves — points to the third finger of the left hand — im- plores heaven — will marry. All is agitation — when suddenly the reali pe?'S07taggi and the courtier, escorted by two troops, rush in to find the lover. There are no fire-arms or swords used, but a violent wrestling and slinging about takes place, on a stage ten feet • square, until the Contrabandistas give in, and the curtain falls. The audience is now getting excited; already during this act they have cried loudly for cakes and bruscolini and shot their husks right and left in their excitement, and thrown the empty cor- netti on the stage \ now they scream for the limonaro — and he, as he carries round on his tray glasses of sugarless lemonade, with a lump of the lemon floating about in them, cries loudly, " Qui si beve e si mangia per un baiocco.''^ By that he means that one can drink the sour warm water and eat the lemon. Meantime, the babies, getting hot, begin to fret and whine, when tinkle goes the bell behind the stage, open goes the chemise front for the baby's comfort, and up goes the curtain. It is a new scene — the royal apartment. One very dirty and rickety straw-bottomed chair constitutes its sole actual furniture — its throne, — the rest is sup- plied by the imagination. Hung on the lintel of the door is a portrait of a child — and such a portrait ! — shades of Vandyke and Titian ! The king enters and sits in the one chair — for obvious reasons the queen cannot follow his example. There is great sorrow, and weeping and gesticulating at the portrait, in the midst of which the Contrabandistas are brought in with the Zingarella. Aha ! what a wonderful resemblance is this between the portrait and the Zingarella ? It is difiicult for the audience to perceive, but how astounding it seems to the king, queen, and courtier! There is violent gesticulation and pointing from her to the por- trait. Ah ! yes, it is— ah ! no, it is not. " If she be my child, a strawberry mark will be found on her right arm." Agitated un- buttoning of the sleeve. There is the strawberry mark ! — and everybody falls into everybody's arms — she is found at last ! The courtier's son and Zingarella kneel— and, "My blessing on you, MIMES AND MASKS— AT THE FICO. 273 my children," is given. Then, with a fierce gesture, the Con- irabandistas are ordered to execution. But ah ! the Zingarella is at the royal feet, and the royal clemency is shown — at which there is loud applause by the audience, and the curtain goes down. "Stop a moment, gentlemen," says Xht gaimn at our side — "it is not yet finished. Now comes the betrothal." The curtain rises again. There is a great, a magnificent illumination, consisting of five paper lanterns pinned to a curtain, spattered and splashed with green, to imitate foliage, I suppose — it is in honour of the marriage. The king and queen, two courtiers, the bride and bridegroom, are all the company. The music is a fiddle and mandoline. And here a great difference was perceptible between the performances at the Fico and those at the Apollo. The realt personaggi did not sit in the left comer in chairs of state, sadly and stifily looking on at the prima ballerina and the corps de ballet. No ! they and the courtiers did the dancing themselves, and polked and waltzed all together round the little stage; the king with one courtier, the queen with the other, and the Zingarella with her lover. This over, there came a grand tableau, with red Bengal lights blazing and smoking behind the side-scenes, and casting a Der Freischiitz glare over the happy party, — and all was over. Here, by the way, I am reminded of an incident which occurred one night to a friend of mjne at the Fico. The abandoned lover came forward to the foot-lights, clasped his hands, and exclaimed pathetically, " Dove se\ tu, belP angelo della mia vita .? " " ^ San Michele,'^ responded a voice from the pit, "^ San Michele.'' Now at San Michele are the prisons for loose women, who are " aban- doned " in another sense ; and the personaggio on the stage, enraged at this intermption, paused in his part, stopped short, shook his fingers into the pit at the audacious individual, and cried out fiercely, with a racy and opprobrious epithet which I am forced to omit, " Colla iiia sorella — colla tua sorella.^'' Having thus dis- burdened himself of his emotions, he continued his sentimental invocation of his " bell' angelo del mio cor.'''' Delighted with this pantomime, we now retraced our steps to the T 2 74 ROB A DI ROMA, Emiliano. The second cainerata had not begun, and we strolled about the piazza. The great fountain of Bernini rose in the centre, its dark figures crouching under the obelisk that pointed silently its finger to the sky. The moonlight flooded the square and shone on the palaces and church, and the plashing water sounded soothingly as it fell in the marble basin. At a caffe close by we heard a thrumming guitar and a tinkling mandoline, played by two men sitting on a table outside the door; several of the Trasteverini were gathered about, men and women, dancing the saltarello on the rough stones. In the intervals, a sturdy fellow, a little top-heavy with wine, was congratulating himself and his audience on the successes of Garibaldi, news of the taking of Como having just arrived. Then, accompanied by the mandoline and guitar, he began in the intervals of the saltarello to scream out a Neapolitan song, with all the jars and sudden breaks of voice which are so characteristic of their singing, until the piazza echoed. We had listened to him so long that the play had already com- menced when we entered the Emiliano. The audience was small, but the theatre, though devoted to the bicrattini, was larger, better, and cleaner than the Fico. The ^^ grandiosa opera'' of Belisario did not belie the general character of Fantocciiii plays. It was ^^sempre batiagliey The scene when we entered was between two puppets, both dressed in armour, speaking in tremendous voices, and flourishing .gigantic swords. One was a c\i\\di-Fa?ttoccmo — the other probably Selinguerra. No attempt was made to conceal the agency by which the figures and their weapons were moved. Stout perpendicular wires, piercing the head and passing out of sight above the hangings, sustained the figures, and the hands and swords were moved by the same grossly apparent means. Each Fanioccino when it spoke went into a sudden convulsion, as if it were attacked by a fit of St. Vitus's dance, while the sword seemed animated with spasmodic life, and thrashed to and fro in the air with utter disregard to the warrior's anatomy, which it constantly and painfully dislocated with every movement. But no sooner had he ceased speaking than his arms fell into a helpless collapse, his head dropped drunkenly forward, or remained fixed in a dislo- MIMES AND MASKS— IL TERRIBIL GOBDO. 275 cation glaring at nothing, and with liis sword stiffly pointing up to the ceiHng, and his legs hanging in the air or huddled under him, so as to leave him quite out of balance, he awaited impotently the answer of his opponent. It was a violent dispute that was taking place between the youth and Sdiugucn-a and his lieutenant, who were threatening to destroy the castle of the ''^ tcrribil Gobbo^ All these doughty warriors were a couple of inches at least above the floor, which they never descended or condescended to touch, save by. way of emphasis, when down they came on their heels with a sharp wooden rap, and then jerked suddenly up again. The dispute was tremendous. They launched at each other, in loud voices, terrible threats and challenges. SelingiLerra was especially ferocious, and " Chi set iu che ost /^^ he cried to the youth ; but the latter, not to be outdone in boasting and fury, with a wild spasm of sword and dangling about of his arms, exclaimed " Trema ! che son il figlio del terribil Gobbo,'' and then collapsed in silence. ^^ Ah ah" with a roar responded his opponent, ^^ male hai fatto a palesarlo — non posso piii contenere il niio i?n?fienso furor. Pre- paraii a morirl" and with a galvanic twitch and a thundering rap of his heels on the floor, he shook defiance at the bold youth. But the youth now showed himself the true son of the terrible Gobbo. He roused from the collapse in which he had fallen, and coming down with his heels too (as if Antaeus like, to acquire new strength by touching the ground), he jerked his head and limbs, flung out widely one leg, and waved a challenge in the name of St. Vitus. Now, ensued a terrible encounter. Seliftguerra, backed by his lieutenant, attacked the heroic son of the Gobbo^ and all three, rising higher from the floor in their excitement, dashed pro- miscuously together, clashing their swords furiously, and swinging backwards and forwards half the length of the stage, while their helpless legs beat to and fro in the air. All the while a drum behind the scenes was "rolling rapidly." It was encouraging, however, to see how bravely the son of the Gobbo held his own. Despite the terrible blows he received on his head, each of which would have done for ever for a mere '^ pcrsonaggio^' and the excited efforts he made with his arms and legs, he never for a moment lost his courage or wind. His expression never changed, but on his 276 ROB A DI ROMA. countenance might still be seen the same calm supernatural glare, the same unwinking eyes. At last, however, he was brought to his knees, or rather, to be accurate, he was brought half-way down backward, with his legs at an angle of forty-five degrees, sitting on nothing at all, and still shaking the " fragments of his blade" above him. He was now so weak that his endeavours to sit entirely dowm seemed vain, and in one of his attempts to do so a gigantic appari- tion of a superhuman fist appeared like a portent above his head, between the slips. ^^ Freparati a moi'ir!^'' now thundered Selin- guerra, and all seemed over with him, when suddenly the aspect of things was changed. In burst the " terribil Gobbo " himself, " in complete steel," and, striking the floor with a succession of bold knocks, and waving with convulsive jerks his sword, while he sidled dislocatedly along towards Selinguerra with little drifting hops, brought help at the most opportune moment. Well did he sustain in the ensuing conflict his terrible reputation. "Alone, alone he did it." At first it was Selinguerra and his lieutenant who opposed him, but he soon made minced meat of them ; and then the whole army, spasmodically hopping and staggering in sideways to the rescue of their captain, attacked the Gobbo all together. In the rage of the conflict, both he and the army madly swung the whole length of the stage, suspended in the air, smash- ing against each other right and left in the utmost confusion, and cutting each other promiscuously in their attempts to hit him, as if it were a " free fight " in Arkansas. But one by one, and platoon by platoon, they fell before the terrible Gobbo, until at last he hovered above the heaps of slain, sound as ever in wind and limb, and had a spasm of satisfaction over them as they lay there cover- ing the stage, some of them with their legs straight up in the air. But a messenger now arrived. Where is the Gobbo' s spouse ? Oh Die ? and messenger and Gobbo drifted out together, bumping each other recklessly on the way, and disappeared between the slips. It is useless further to follow the doings on this occasion. Suffice it to say, that there was the " serpent-man," ending in a long green tail, and a terrible giant with a huge head and pock-marked face, each of which was a " JDeus ex ??iachind," descending at opportune moments to assist one or the other side, the ^^ uomo serpenfe'' on MIMES AND MASKS— MAGGL 277 one occasion crushing a warrior who was engaged in an encounter with ErsiUa by flinging a great tower on him. What BcHsario had to do with this '' grandiosa opera,'' besides giving it his name, I did not plainly see, as he never made his appearance on the stage. However, the audience seemed greatly delighted with the perform- ance. They ate voraciously of bruscolini and cakes, partook largely of lemonade, and, when I left, the stage was strewn with cornetti, or paper horns, which they had emptied of their see^s. The Fantoccini do not, however, confine themselves to the recitation of plays founded on incidents in romance and profane history — they also devote their powers to the representation of religious moralities, or mysteries, in which they " present " scenes from Scripture history. These " motions," as Ben Jonson calls them, are, for the most part, performed by Fantoccini; but some- times they are represented by living persons, — and there is a species of public plays, called Giostre, or Maggi, which are still performed by the peasants of some of the Tuscan towns. Giuseppe Tigri, in his preface to the " Canti Popolari Toscani," says : — " Some of these I have myself seen, a few years ago, at Campiglio di Cereglio and at Gavinana. The best known, and those which are played nearly every year, are — the story of Joseph ; the sacri- fice of Abraham ; the passion of our Lord, which, in many respects, resemble the ancient mysteries. Besides these — there are Egisto de' Greci ; Bradamante and Ruggero, taken from Ariosto ; Ircano, King of Thrace ; Costantino and Buonafede, or the Triumph of Friendship ; the conversion of St. Giovanni Bocca d'Oro ; Arbino and Micrene, or the persecution of the Christians by a Turkish king of Algeria ; the martyrdom of Sta. Filomena ; the Empress Flavia ; Rosana, the beautiful pagan who is converted to Christi- anity ; Sant' Alessio ; the glorious conquest of Jerusalem by the Christians; Cleonte and Isabella and Stillacore ; the taking of Paris described by Ariosto ; and the death of Louis XVL Their theatre is in the open air, or in the chief piazza of the town, or under the shadow of the chestnut-trees in some wooded valley. On the day of the festival, after vespers, the people of the sur- rounding towns meet together and form a great circle of men and women. Before the play begins there is a messenger (called also 2 78 ROB A DI ROMA. an interpreter or page, as in the mysteries, dressed like an angel, with a flower in his hand,) who, after the custom of the ancient Greek tragedies, sings a prologue, and salutes the audience, de- manding their favour. The heroes of the drama then make their entrance, and with them comes the buffoon, who represents some one of the Italian masks — ^just as in the antique tragi-comedies they were present to temper with their jests the excess of horror or compassion* among the spectators. The men play the women's parts, and are dressed in great mantles, or, as they call it ^ aW eroica,^ and as much as possible in costume. Whenever the dress of the ancient Paladins is required, they have flags and old swords, and carry beautiful lances and halberds in their hands, with which they joust very skilfully, and which are (as I was told at Gavinana) of the period of Ferruccio. They weave together dialogues with- out divisions of acts, chanting them to a regular monotonous song in strophes of eight, repeating the first line of each, and moving from one part of the circle to another. The action is exceedingly simple, without intricacy or any attempt to keep the interest of the hearers in suspense, and the messenger informs them at first what is to be represented. Certain ai-iettes in sevens, interpolated into the drama, play the part of the chorus in the Greek tragedy, and are sung with the accompaniment of the viohn. The cha- racter of this drama is always chaste and moral, and serves ad- mirably to keep alive among the people who delight in them the old chivalric sentiment for the lady of one's love, and for every sacred and magnanimous enterprise." During Easter I have also seen, at Santo Spirito, a mystery play performed by the scholars, and founded upon the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who would not bow down and worship the golden image that Nebuchadnezzar the king had set up. It was performed in the afternoon, within the hospital, and the Cardinal Tosti presided over it. Ordinarily, however, these mysteries are performed by puppets, vv'ho are more dignified and less expensive than '■'■ pefsojiaggi'^ In England, the early plays of this kind were pageants performed in the church, in French or Latin. English, however, soon took the place of all foreign tongues, and they began to be played at the MIMES AND MASKS— MYSTERY PLAYS. 279 corners of the streets or in the public squares. They were gene- rally in the early days exhibited on carts constructed for the pur- pose, with different floors : one for i\\c pater caksiis and the angels, another for the saints, and a third for man. One corner of man's stage was called " hell's mouth," and here burnt a fire, up and down which demons came and went. An old account for repairs done to one of these pageants runs thus: — ^'Payd for mending hell mought ij'l — Item, payd for keepng of fyer at hell mothe iiij''. — payd for setting the world on fire v<^." In the time of Steele, miracle plays were performed by puppets under the arcade of Covent Garden ; and Powell on one occasion promises his audi- ence that his " opera of Susannah, or Innocence betrayed," will be exhibited next week with a pair of new elders. A traveller has not long since described an entertainment of this kind at Lisbon, where, after the expulsion of Eve from Paradise, the Eternal Father came down in great wrath, called for Noah, and told him he was sorry to have created such a set of ungrateful scoundrels, and that he was resolved to drown them altogether. " Here Noah interceded for them, and at last it was agreed that he should build an ark, and he was ordered to go to the king's dockyard in Lisbon, and there he would see John Gonsalvez, for he preferred him to either the French or English builders. (This produced great applause.)" Ben Jonson, in his "Bartholomew Fair," makes one of his puppet showmen say,. " Oh ! the motions that I, Lan thorn Leatherhead, have given light to in my time, since my master Pod died ! Jerusalem was a stately thing, and so was Nineveh, and the City of Norwich ; but the Gunpowder Plot, that was a get-penny." And in " Every Man out of his Humour " he speaks also of "a new motion of the City of Nineveh, with Jonas and the whale." In Germany, also, these mysteries continue to be played, and every ten years there is a great celebration at Ammergau in Bavaria, where the passion of Christ is represented with great elaboration of dresses and scenery. Of late this play has become celebrated throughout Europe, and crowds flock to see it from all quarters. In Italy the principal motions that are now played by the Eaft- 28o ROBA DI ROMA. ioccini are passages from the life of Christ. One of these, the story of Judas Iscariot, I remember seeing several years ago in a little town on the main road to Naples. We had just left our vetiura, and were straying through the streets towards sundown, when a large booth attracted our attention, before which were coarse pictures representing scenes from the life of Judas, with placards underneath, announcing that the well-known and famous company of puppets, so greatly and deservedly admired through- out Italy, would this evening perform the grand Scriptural play of Judas Iscariot, for the small entrance fee of two baiocchi. At the door v/as a man in a thick black beard, who in stentorian tones was crying out to the people of the town to be quick, or they would lose the chance of seeing this justly celebrated, grand, and wonderful exhibition. Prompted by curiosity, we paid our baiocchi and went in. The representation had already begun to an audience of about twenty persons of the lower classes ; but the moment our party entered the performance was suspended, the curtain was dropped, and the padrone appeared, cleared for us the front seats, and announced that in consequence of the arrival of this most distinguished and cultivated company, which he had the honour of seeing before him, he should recommence the play from the very first scene. So, in fact, he did ; and nothing more ludicrous and incorrect could easily be imagined. The kiss of Judas, when, after sliding along the stage, he suddenly turned with a sidelong jerk and rapped the other puppet's wooden head with his own, as well as the subsequent scene, in which he goes out and hangs him- self, beggar description. The audience, however, looked and listened with great gravity, seemed to be highly edified, and certainly showed no signs of seeing anything ludicrous in the performance ; though their attention, I must confess, was at times somewhat divided between "us and the puppets. When we arose to go, the manager again appeared, though the play was not quite over, and warmly thanked us for having honoured him with our presence. At Siena this year, there was a similar exhibition, to which the country people flocked from all the adjacent country, and which had such success that it was repeated every day for weeks. MIMES AND MASKS— PUPPET BALLETS. 281 Sometimes, also, stories from the Old Testament are played, such as the afiflictions of Job ; the sacrifice of Isaac ; the story of Susannah and the Elders ; and the Prodigal Son. A short time since there was a representation of the Life of Samson, in which the puppet covered the stage with the bodies of the Philistines, literally according to the Scripture, ''heaps upon heaps." But while making a long speech preparatory to quenching his thirst from the jaw-bone of an ass, he, unfortunately, forgot that it was filled with water, and in his spasmodic gesticulations he sprinkled and spattered it recklessly over the stage and into the face of the orchestra to such effect, that finally there was not a drop left when the time came to drink. To do him justice, however, he never lost his countenance or self-possession at this trying moment. But of all the feats of the Fantoccini^ nothing can be compared to their acting in the ballet. If the pantomime by actual ^'- per- sonaggi^^ be extraordinary, imagine what it is when performed by puppets, whose eveiy motion is effected by wires, who imitate the gestures of despair with hands that cannot shut, and with a wooden gravity of countenance, throw their bodies into terrible contortions to make up for the lack of expression in the face. But, if possible, their dancing is even superior to their pantomime. When the wooden-headed court, almost as solemn and stiff as a real one, have seated themselves on one side of the stage, and the corps de ballet has advanced and retreated in steady platoons, and retired and opened just like the real thing, — in, with a tremen- dous leap, suddenly drops the prima ballerina^ knocks her wooden knees together, and jerking her head about, salutes the audience with a smile quite as artificial as we could see in the best trained of her fleshly rivals. Then, with a masterly ease, after describing air-circles with her toes far higher than her head, and poising herself in impossible positions, she bounds, or rather flies forward with superhuman lightness, performs feats of choreo- graphy to awaken envy in Cerito and drive EUsler to despair, and pausing on her pointed toe, that disdains to touch the floor, turns never-ending pirouettes on nothing at all, till at last, throwing both her wooden hands forward, she suddenly comes to a stiff stop to receive your applause. This is the very apotheosis of 282 ROBA DI ROMA. ballet dancing. This is that perfection " which we are seeking all our lives to find." Unhampered with the difficulties that en- cumber her mortal sister, she performs what the living creature can only attempt, and surpasses her as the ideal surpasses the actual. When we see her with her permanent smile and breast that never pants, we are not haunted by the notion of those sad hours of practising in the gloomy theatrical day, when the splendid clouds of tulle and the stereotyped smile give way to shabby petti- coats and twitching face, and her ear is saluted by the criticism of the master instead of the applause of the audience. Ah, no ! the Fantoccina leaps perfect into her art from the hands of her maker, dreams her day away smiling just the same in her box as on the stage, is never harassed by want of food and family cares, disdains to eke out her insufficient salary by prostitution, is troubled by no jealousies, pricked by no vain ambition, haunted by no remorses, ruined by no failures, but without envy, sorrow, hunger, or the fear of old age, keeps a perennial youth and a per- petual smile. How much better to be a wooden Fantoccina than a living Ballerina ! Better on all sides — not only for her, but for her maestro, who pays her nothing, hears from her no complaints, and is subject to no caprices. How miserable an apology, how wretched a mask Life seems beside Art ! Who would not be a Fantoccino — a painted blockhead, if he could ? CHAPTER XI. PASQUIN. Roman wit is essentially satirical, and its true type is Pasqiwio. He is the public satirist, who lances his pointed jests at every absurdity and abuse. There he sits on his pedestal behind the Palazzo Braschi, a mutilated iorso^ which, in the days of its pride, was a portion of a noble group, representing, as is supposed, Menelaus dragging the dead body of Patroclus from the fight. Few of those who pass this almost shapeless fragment would imagine that it was once considered as one of the noblest works of ancient art. Yet this is the case. In the life of Bernini, written by his son Domenico, we are assured that this distin- guished sculptor considered it as equal in merit to the Belvidere torso of the Vatican, and called it his master; while Michael Angelo preferred the Vatican torso. " On one occasion," says his biographer, "having been asked by a noble stranger which statue of all in Rome he considered to be the most excellent, he replied, ' The Pasquino ; ' whereupon the stranger, supposing himself jested with, became very angry, and was on the point of attacking the artist. Of these two torsi he was wont to say, that they exhibited the greatest beauty and perfection of nature without any of the affectation of art." * This statement is confirmed by Filippo Bertinucci, who relates that " Bernini considered the Laocoon and Pasquino to contain all the best characteristics of art, since in them existed the per- fection of nature without the affectation of art : but that the torso and the Pasquino to him, seemed to possess a greater perfection of style than the Laocoon, though the latter was entire and the * Vita di Cav. Giov. Lorenz. Bernini. Firenze, 1782. 284 ROBA DI ROMA. former was but a fragment. Between Pasquino and the Torso Belvidere, the difference, he thought, was not very perceptible, and was only apparent to a person of knowledge, but on the whole he preferred the Pasquino." A repetition of this group is under the Loggie dei Lanzi at Florence, but it is far inferior in execution. Though the Pas- quino has suffered terribly, there are still portions which show the same masterly style that is exhibited in the toi'so of Hercules, and it would seem most probable that they were both from the same hand, as they are undoubtedly of the same school. The subject of this group has been much discussed by antiqua- rians. Winckelmann supposed it to be a statue of Hercules from the fact, stated by him, that on the helmet was carved the battle with the Centaurs \ Dante seems to have thought it a statue of Mars ; * Paoli Alessandro Maffei speaks of it as representing the body of Ajax Telamon, supported by a soldier, and remarks that others have supposed it to be a gladiatorial duel, or an Alexander who has fainted while bathing in the river Cydnus.f All these opinions are rejected by Visconti on sufficient grounds, and he declares that in his judgment it represents Menelaus bearing the body of Patroclus away from the battle. % Whatever may have been the subject of this once beautiful and now ruined work, it is scarcely less famous under its modern name. Pasquino is now the mouth-piece of the most pungent Roman wit. The companion and rival of Pasquin in the early days was Marforio. This was a colossal statue representing a river god, and received its name from the Forum of Mars, where it was unearthed in the 1 6th century. Other friends too had Pasquino who took part in his satiric conversazmii and carried on dialogues with him. Among these was Madame Tucrezia, whose ruined figure still may be seen near the church of S. Marco behind the Venetian palace ; the Fachino or porter, who empties his barrel * Inferno, xiii. v. 196. Bocchi ampl. del. Cinelli, p. 115. t Mafifei Statue. Cav. xlii. X See Notizie delle due Famose Statue di Pasquino e Marforio, &c. Roma, 1854, with a letter from Visconti. PASQUIN—IL DON PIRLONE. 285 still in the Corso, though his wit has run dry; — the Abbate Luigi of the Palazzo Valle ; — and the battered Babbuino, who still pre- sides over his fountain in the Via del Babbuino, and gives his name to the street, but who has now lost his features and his voice. Marforio, however, was the chief speaker next to Pasquin, and he still at times joins with him in a satiric dialogue. For- merly there was a constant strife of wit between the two ; and a lampoon by Pasquin was sure to call out a reply from Marforio. But of late years Marforio has been imprisoned in the Court of the Campodoglio, and, like many other free speakers, locked up and forbidden to speak ; so that Pasquin has it all his own way. In the time of the Revolution of 1848, he made friends with Don Pirlone and uttered in print his satires. " II Don Pirlone " was the title of the Roman Charivari of this period. It was issued daily, except on /^j-^'<2-days, was very liberal in its politics, and extremely bitter against the papalini, French and Austrians. The caricatures, though coarsely executed, were full of humour and spirit, and gave strong evidence that the satiric fire for which Rome has been always celebrated, though smouldering, is always ready to burst into flame. Take for instance, as a specimen, the caricature which appeared on the 15th of June, 1849. The Pope is here represented in the act of celebrating mass. Oudinot, the French general, acts as the attendant priest, kneeling at the steps of the altar, and holding up the pontifical robes. The bell of the mass is an imperial crown. A group of military officers sur- rounds the altar, with a row of bayonets behind them. The altar candles are in the shape of bayonets. The Pope is just raising the host, but the Christ on the crucifix has detached his arms from the cross-bars, and covers his face with his hands as if to shut out from his sight the impious spectacle. Lightnings dart from the cross, and from the cup which should hold the blood of the Lord issues a hissing serpent. On the sole of one of Oudinot's boots are the words '''' Accommodamenio Lesseps" and of the other '' Ariiculo V. delta Constituziofie ;'' — thus showing that he tramples not only on the convention made by Lesseps with the Roman triumvirate on the 31st of May, but also on the French Constitu- tion, the fifth article of which says : " La Republique Fran^aise 286 ROBA JDI ROMA. liemploie jamais ses forces conire la liberie d'aimm peupleP^ Be- neath the picture is this motto : ^^ Ha incominicaio it servizio colla messa, ed ha finito colle bombed — ''He has begun the service with mass, and completed it with bombs." On the second of July, 1849, the French entered Rome, and "II Don Pirlone" was issued for the last time. The engraving in this number represents a naked female figure lying lifeless on the ground, with a cap of liberty on her head, — on a dunghill near by a cock is crowing loudly, — while a French general is covering the body with earth. Beneath are these significant words : " Ma^ caro Signor Becckino, siete poi ben . sicuro che sia mortaV — "But, dear Mr. Undertaker, are you so perfectly sure that she is dead ? " That day Don Pirlone died, and all his works were confiscated. Some, however, still remain, guarded jealously in secret hiding- places, and talked about in whispers 3 but, if you are curious, you may have the luck to buy a copy for thirty or forty Roman scitdi."^ The first acquaintance we make with Pasquin is as an aban- doned limbless fragment of an antique statue, which serves as a butt for boys to throw stones at, and for other " slings and arrows of outrageous fortune." Near by him lives a tailor named Pas- quino, skilful in his trade, and still more skilful in his epigrams. At his shop many of the litterati, prelates, courtiers, and wits of the town, meet to order their robes and dresses, to report scandal,' to anatomize reputations, and to kill their time. Pasquino's humour was contagious, and so many sharp epigrams were made in his shop, that it grew to be famous. After Pasquino's death, in mending the street, it became necessary to remove the old statue, embedded in the ground near by, and to get it out of the * When the French army advanced against Rome, they found the road from Civita Vecchia strewn with large placards, on which this clause of their Consti- tution was printed ; so that they were literally obliged to trample its provisions under foot in making as unjustifiable an attack upon the liberties of a people as was ever recorded in history. t Mr. Charles E. Norton, in his admirable volume on "Travel and Study in Italy," gives an interesting account of Don Pirlone more at length, and with descriptions of several others of the caricatures. PASQUIN. 287 way it was set up at the side of his shop. The people then, in joke, said that Pas(|uino had come back, and so the statue acquired this nickname, which it has ever since retained. This, at least, is the account given of it by Castelvetro, in a discourse upon 2i canzone oi Annibale Caro, published in 1553, on the faith of the learned and venerable Messer Antonio Tibaldeo of Ferrara. He says that during the life of Pasquin, the statue was half-buried in the public street, and served as a stepping-stone for passers who wished not to soil their shoes in the mud from which it projected, and that it was raised from this position in order to make the way more level. But, according to Andrea Fulvio, the statue was already on a pedestal during the life of Pasquino, and stood near the Palazzo Orsini, and not far from his shop in the Via in Parione ; and Fiorayanti Martinelli (Roma Ricercata,) and others assert that it was found in the beginning of the sixteenth centur}', under a tower at the side of the ancient Palazzo Orsini, • near the Palazzo Bruschi, and therefore close to where it stands at present. However this be, there is no doubt that the custom soon grew up to stick to the statue any lampoon, epigram, or satiric verses, which the author desired to be anonymous, and to pretend that it was a ^^ pasquinata." From this time Pasquino becomes a name and a power. His tongue never could be ruled. He had his bitter saying on everything. Vainly govern- ment strove to suppress him. At one time he narrowly escaped being thrown into the Tiber by Hadrian VI., who was deeply offended at some of his sarcasms, — but he was saved from this fate by the wisdom of the Spanish legate, who gravely counselled the Pope to do no such act, lest he should thus teach all the frogs in the river to croak pasquinades.* In reference to the various attempts made to silence him, he says in an epigram addressed to Paul III. :— * Giambattista Manso, however, says that this advice was given by Tor- quato Tasso to Clement VII., and the poet being called to account for it by the pope, answered, — "It, is true, holy Father, — but if your holiness wishes that satires should not speak evil, take care that the men you place in authority act well." A few days after this Pasquin announced that "La Poesia ha sal- vato la Satira. " — Poetry has saved satire. 288 ROBA DI ROBA. ' ' Ut canerent data multa olim sunt vatibus sera ; Ut taceam, quantum tu mihi, Paule, dabis?" ' ' Great were the sums once paid to poets for singing ; How much will you, oh Paul, give me to be silent ? " Finally, his popularity became so great, that all epigrams, good or bad, were affixed to him. Against this he remonstrated, crying : — *' Me miserum ! copista etiam mihi carmina figit ; Et tribuit nugas jam mihi quisque suas." ** Alas ! the veriest copyist sticks upon me his verses ; Every one now on me his wretched trifles bestows." This remonstrance seems to have been attended with good results, for shortly after he says : — "Non homo me melior Romae est. Ego nil peto ab ullo. Nom sum verbosus ; hie sedeo et taceo. " *' No man at Rome is better than I ; I seek nothing from any, I am never verbose : here I sit, and am silent. " Of late years no collection has been made, as far as I know, of the sayings of Pasquin ; and it is only here and there that they can be found recorded in books. But in 1544 a volume of 637 pages was printed, with the title " Pasquillorum Tomi duo," in which, among a mass of epigrams and satires drawn from various sources, a considerable number of real pasquinades were pre- served. This volume is now very rare and costly, most of the copies having been burnt at Rome and elsewhere, on account of the many satires it contained against the Romish Church, — so rare, indeed, that the celebrated scholar Daniel Heinsius supposed his copy to be unique, as he stated in the inscription written by him on its fly-leaf : — ' ' Roma meos fratres igni dedit — unica phoenix Vivo — aureis venio centum Heinsio." " Rome to the fire gave my brothers — I, the single phoenix, Live — by Heinsius bought for a hundred pieces of gold." PASQ UIN—FASQ UINADES. 289 In this, however, he was mistaken. There are several other copies now known to be in existence.* This collection was edited by Coelius Secundus Curio, a Pied- montese, who, being a reformer, had suffered persecution, confis- cation, exile, and imprisonment in the Inquisition. From the last he escaped, and while spending his later days in exile in Switzerland he printed this volume, and sent it forth to harass his enemies and bigoted opponents. The chief aim of the book was to attack the Romish Church ; and some of the satires are evi- dently German, and probably from the hands of his friends. It is greatly to be regretted that no other collection exists ; and since so great a success has attended the admirable collections of popular songs and proverbs in Tuscany, it is to be hoped that some competent Italian may soon be found who will have the spirit and patience to collect the pasquinades of more modern days. The earliest pasquinades were directed against the Borgian Pope, Alexander VI. (Sextus), the infamy of whose life can scarcely be written. Pasquin calls him in one satire, ^^ Papa mar- rano e simoniaco e traditore; " and in another says of him : — " Sextus Tarquinius, Sextus Nero — Sextus et iste ; Semper sub Sextis perdita Roma fuit." " Sextus Tarquinius, Sextus Nero — this also is Sextus ; Always under the Sextuses Rome has been ruined.'* * This same copy would, however, seem to have been subsequently sold for a far smaller sum. In a note which Mr. Robert Cole has done me the favour to write me on this subject, he says : — " I have in my collection of MS., &c., a printed catalogue of Heinsius's library, with the price of each lot marked in ink. The catalogue comprises 13,000 lots, and is printed on 660 pages. * Pas- quillorum Tomi duo, 1544,' is mentioned as lot 679, ^ Historki in octavo,'' and against it is the figure 2 — in ink, the price I presume at which it was sold. There is nothing to guide me in the prices as to the value in English money, nor the coin designated. Many of the lots have smaller prices, thus: — i — 15, 5 — 18, &c. ; but the right hand column bears no price above 19, So, I take it, that 20 make one of larger unit, as our ^os. make £\ ; whilst the left-hand column is not carried on to a third column for a large coin. One lot, for instance, is marked 140 — o. My desire is to contrast the price paid by Heinsius for the book with that for which it was afterwards sold, and I may not be mistaken U 290 ROBA DI ROMA. Again, in allusion to the fact that he obtained his election by the grossest bribery, and, as Guicciardini expresses it, "infected the whole world by selling without distinction holy and profane things," Pasquino says : — " Vendit Alexander claves, altaria, Christum : Emerat ille prius, vendere jure potest." '* Alexander sells the keys, the altar, Christ: He who bought them first has a good right to sell." Here, too, is another savage epigram on the Borgian Pope, referring to the murder of his son Giovanni, duca di Gandia, by his brother, Cesare, duca di Valentino, who slew him at night, and threw his body into the Tiber, from which it was fished out the next morning : — " Piscatorem hominum ne te non, Sexte, putemus, Piscaris natum retibus ecce tuum." ** Lest we should think you not a fisher of men, oh Sextus ! Lo ! for your very son with nets you fish." No epigrams worth recording seem to have been made during the short reign of Pius III. ; but Julius II., the warlike, fiery, impetuous soldier, drew upon himself the constant fire of Pasquin. Alluding to the story that, when leading his army out of Rome, he threw the keys of Peter into the Tiber, saying that henceforth he would trust to the sword of Paul, Pasquin, merely repeating his impetuous words, says : — ** Cum Petri nihil efficiant ad proelia claves, Auxilio Pauli forsitan ensis erit." " Since nothing the keys of Peter for battle can profit, The sword of Paul, perhaps, may be of use. " And again, referring to the beard which Julius was the first among the Popes of comparatively late days to wear : — •* Hue barbam Pauli, gladium Pauli, omnia Pauli ; Claviger ille nihil ad mea vota Petrus." " The beard of Paul, and the sword of Paul — all things of Paul for me ; As for that key-bearer Peter, he's not to my liking at all. " in my conjecture that this hundred-crown or ducat book was sold for two marks!!" PASQUIN— PASQUINADES. 291 But of all the epigrams on Julius, none is so stern and fierce as this : — " Julius est Romas — quid abcst ? Date, numina, Brutum. Nam quoties Romoe est Julius, ilia perit. " *' Julius is at Rome— what is wanting? Ye gods, give us Brutus. For whenever at Rome is Julius, the city is lost," If to Julius Pasquin was severe, he was scathing to his suc- cessor Leo X. Many of these epigrams are too coarse to bear translation;* here is one, however, more decent, if less bitter than many : — ** Dona date, astantes ; versus ne reddite : sola Imperat cethereis alma Moneta deis." " Bring me gifts, spectators ! bring me not verses ; Divine Money alone rules the ethereal gods. " And again, referring to Leo's taste for buffoons, he says : — " Cur non te fingi scurram, Pasquille, rogasti? Cum RomjE scurris omnia jam liceant." " Pasquil, why have you never asked to be made a buffoon? All things now are permitted at Rome to buffoons, " Here is another, referring to the story, current in Rome, that Leo's death was occasioned by poison, and on account of its suddenness there was no time to administer to him the last sacraments : — " Sacra sub extrema, si forte requiritis, hora Cur Leo non potuit sumere : vendiderat." " If you desire to hear why at his last hour Leo Could not the sacraments take — know — he had sold them." During the short reign of the ascetic Adrian VI., Pasquin seems to have been comparatively silent, perhaps through respect for that hard, bigoted, but honest Pope. Under his successor, Clement VI I, , Rome was besieged, taken, and sacked by the * One of these, savage and untranslatable, is as follows : — " Roma, vale ! Satis est Romam vidisse. Revertar Quum leno, meretrix, scurra, cinasdus ero." 292 IIOBA DI ROMA. Constable de Bourbon, and through the horrors of those days Pasquin's voice was seldom heard. One saying of his, however, has been preserved, which was uttered during the period of the Pope's imprisonment in the Castle St. Angelo. With a sneer at his infallibility and his imprisonment, he says, ''''Papa non potest errare,^^ (The Pope cannot err nor go astray) — err are having both meanings. But if Pasquin spared the Pope during his life, he threw a handful of epigrams on his coffin at his death. Under a portrait of the physician to whose ignorance Clement's death was attributed, Pasquin placed this sentence: ^^ Ecce agnus Dei! ecce qid iollit peccata mundiV And again, in reference to this same physician, Matteo Curzio, or Curtius : — ** Curtius occidit Clementem — Curtius auro Donandus, per quern publica parta salus." " Curtius has killed our Clement — let gold then be given To Curtius, for thus securing the public health." On Paul III. the Farnese Pope, Pasquin exercised his wit, but not always very successfully. This Pope was celebrated for his nepotism, and for the unscrupulous ways in which he endea- voured to build up his house and enrich his family; and one of Pasquin's epigrams refers to this, as well as to the well-known fact that he built his palace by despoiling the Colosseum of its travertine : — ** Oremus pro Papa Paulo, quia zelus Domus suae comedit ilium." " Let us pray for Pope Paul, for his zeal For his house is eating him up." With Paul III. ceases the record of the " Pasquillorum Tomi duo," published at Eleutheropolis in 1544, and we now hunt out only rarely here and there an epigram. Against Sextus V., that cruel, stern old man, who never lifted his eyes from the ground until he had attained that great reward for all his hypocritical humility, the papal chair, several epigrams are recorded. One of these, in the form of a dialogue, and given by Leti in his life of Sextus, is worth recording for the story connected with it. Pasquin makes his appearance in a very dirty shirt, and being FASQ UIN—FASQ UINADES. 293 asked by Marforio the reason of this, answers, that he cannot procure a clean shirt because his washerwoman has been made a princess by the Pope — thus referring to the story that the Pope's sister had formerly been a laundress. This soon came to the ears of the Pope, who ordered that the satirist should be sought for and punished severely. All researches, however, were vain. At last, by his order and in his name, placards were posted in the public streets, promising, in case the author would reveal his name, to grant him not only his life, but a present of a thousand pistoles; but threatening in case of his discovery by any other person to hang him forthwith, and give the reward to the informer. The satirist thereupon avowed the authorship and demanded the money. Sextus, true to the letter of his proclama- tion, granted him his life and paid him the thousand pistoles ; but, in utter violation of its spirit, and saying that he had not promised absolution from all punishment, ordered his hands to be struck off and his tongue to be bored, " to hinder him from being so witty in the future." But Pasquin was not silenced even by this cruel revenge, and a short time after, in reference to the tyranny of Sextus, appeared a caricature representing the Pope as King Stork devouring the Romans as frogs, with the motto ^^ Merito hcec patimur" Pius V. was even more cruel in his revenge upon Niccolo Franco, whom he hung for having permitted himself to write an indecent epigram against him. About the year 1656, Alexander VII. consecrated the new church "della Pace," and on this occasion a triumphal arch was erected before it, on which was the following inscription : — " Orietur in diebus nostris Justitia et Abundantia Pacis." " Justice and the abounding of peace shall arise in our days." During the night preceding the consecration, Pasquin added the letter M to the first word of this inscription, so that when the procession passed under it, it was seen to read : — *' Morietur in diebus nostris Justitia et Abundantia Pacis." '* Justice and the abounding of peace shall die in our days." 294 ROBA DI ROMA, When the same Pope Alexander died, Marforio asked, " Che ka ditto il Papa primo de morir ? " (What did the Pope say before dying ?) To which Pasquin answered in Latin : — *' Maxima de seipso ; Plurima de parentibu3 ; Prava de principibus ; Turpia de cardinalibus ; Pauca de ecclesia ; De Deo nihil." '* Exceedingly of himself; Much of his relations ; Evil of Princes : Scandal of cardinals ; Little of the Church ; Nothing of God." Against Urban VIII., the Barberini Pope, whose noble palace was built out of the quarry of the Colosseum, who tore the bronze plates from the roof of the Pantheon to cast into the tasteless baldacchino of St. Peter's, and under whose pontificate so many antique buildings were despoiled, Pasquin uttered the famous saying :— *' Quod non fecerunt barbari, fecerunt Barberini." " What the barbarians have not done, the Barberini have done." And on the occasion of Urban's issuing a bull, excorrimunicating all persons who took snuff in the churches at Seville, Pasquin quoted this verse : " Contra folium quod vento rapitur ostendis potentiam tuam'i et stipulam siccam persequeris V — "Against a leaf driven to and fro by the wind wilt thou show thy strength ? and wilt thou pursue the light stubble ? " The Pope^ hearing of the satire, ordered it to be erased, and declared that he was desirous to know who was the author of it. Thereupon the verse was again written, and signed "Job." The Pope then offered a large reward to the author if he would reveal himself, but remembering the fate of the satirist of the sister of Sextus V., he would not reveal himself, but added under "Job" the word "Gratis." Innocent X., as well as the profligate Donna Olympia Maidal- PASQ UIN—PASQ UINADES. 295 chini, afforded also a target to Pasquin's arrows. Of the Pope he says : — " Magis amat Olympiam quam Olympum." " Olyrapia he loves more than Olympus." Here also is another on Olympia : — " Olim pia, nunc impia." During the reign of Innocent XL the holy office flourished, and its prisons were put in requisition for those who dared to think freely or to speak freely. Pasquin in reference to this, says: '' Se parliamo, in galera; se scriviamo, impiccati ; se stiamo quietly al sanio uffizio. Eh! — che bisogna fare?" — *'If we speak, to the galleys ; if we write, the gallows ; if we keep quiet, to the Inquisition. Eh ! — what then must we do?" Throughout Rome the "stranger is struck by the constant re- currence of the inscription ^'- Munijicentia Pii SextV on statues and monuments and repaired ruins, and big and little antiquities- When, therefore, this Pope reduced the pagnotto, or loaf of two baiocchi, considerably in size, one of them was found hung on Pasquin's neck, with the same inscription — '"'■ Munificentid Pii Sextiy Against the nepotism of this same Pope, when he was building the great Braschi palace, Pasquin wrote these lines : — " Tres habuit fauces, et terno Cerberus ore Latratus intra Tartara nigra dabat. Et tibi plena fame tria sunt vel quatuor ora Quae nulli latrant, quemque sed ilia vorant." ** Three jaws had Cerberus, and three mouths as well, Which barked into the blackest deeps of hell. Three hungry mouths have you — ay ! even four, — None of them bark, but all of them devour." During the French revolution, the occupation of Rome by Napoleon, Pasquin and Marforio uttered some bitter sayings, and among them was this dialogue : — Pasquin — " I Francesi son tutti ladri " — Marforio — " Non tutti — 'ma Buona parte," Here also is one referring to the institution of the Cross of the Legion of Honour in France, which is admirable in wit : — 296 ROBA DI ROMA. ** In tempi men leggiadri e piu feroci S' appicavano i ladri in su le croci ; In tempi men feroci e piu leggiadri S' appicano le croci in su i ladri." ' ' In times less pleasant, and more fierce, of old The thieves were hung upon the cross — we're told : In times less fierce, more pleasant, like to-day, Crosses are hung upon the thieves — they say." When the Emperor Francis of Austria visited Rome, Pasquin called him, — " Gaudium urbis — Fletus provincia?'mn — Risus tnundi" — ''The joy of the city — the grief of the provinces — the jeer of the world." A clever epigram was also made on Canova's statue of Italy, which was represented as draped : — ■" Questa volta Canova I'ha sbagliata, — Ha ritalia vestita ed e spogliata." " For once Canova surely has tripped ; Italy is not draped, but stripped. " Upon the marriage of a certain Cesare with a young girl named Roma, Pasquin issued this warning to the bridegroom : " Ccesar ! cave ne Roma respublica fiat I^'' To which Caesar answered the next day: ^^ Ccesar imperatP '■^ Ergo coronabitur,^^ was Pasquin's response. On the return of Pius VII. from Paris, after the coronation of Napoleon I., on the 2nd December, 1804, Pasquin, in allusion to the persecution of those who were suspected of fa,vouring Napo- leon, says : — " Ma Santo Padre, in cosa abbiam peccato Voi I'avete unto e noi I'abbiam leccato. " When Pius VIII. died, after a Pontificate of only twenty months, Pasquin proposed him as a model to the new Pope in these terms : — " Se imitar noi saprete in tutti il resto Imitatelo almeno in morir presto." " Failing to copy him in all the rest, Die quick, and copy him in this at least. " The death of the late Pontiff, Gregory XVI., during Carnival, PASQ UIN—PASQ UINADES. 297 gave rise to numerous squibs and Pasquinades, among which the following may be cited as one of the shortest and bitterest : — '* Tre dispetti ci desti, oh Padre Santo ! Accettare il Papato, e viver tanto, E morir in Carnevale per esser pianto." " Three sorrows, Holy Father, in form you receive — First you accept the Papacy, and then so long you live, And last you die in Carnival, that we your death may grieve. " The latter days of Pius IX. have opened a large field for Pasquin, and his epigrams have a flavour quite equal to that of the best of which we have any record. When, in 1858, the Pope made a journey through the provinces of Tuscany, leaving the administration of affairs in the hands of Cardinal Antonelli and the other cardinals of the Sacred College, the following dialogue was found on Pasquin : — " Dunque il pastore se n' e andato?" " Si, Signore." " E chi lascia a custodire la grege?" ** I cani." " E chi custodisce i cani?" '* II mastino." •* The shepherd, then, is gone away ! " " Yes, sir." " And whom has he left to take care of the flock ? " *' The dogs," *' And who keeps the dogs?" " The mastiff." The wit of Pasquin, as of all the Romans, is never purely verbal, for the pun, simply as a pun, is little relished in Italy; ordinarily the wit lies in the thought and image, though some- times it is expressed by a play upon words as well, as in the epi- gram on Buonaparte. The ingenious method adopted by the Italians, a year or two ago, to express their political sympathies with Victor Emmanuel was peculiarly characteristic of Italian humour. Forbidden by the police to make any public demon- stration in his favour, the government were surprised by the con- stant shouts of " Viva Verdi! viva Verdi!'' at all the theatres, as 298 ROBA DI ROMA. well as by finding these words scrawled over the walls of the city. But they soon discovered that the cries for Verdi were through no enthusiasm for this composer, but only because his name was an acrostic signifying V-ictor E-mmanuel, R-e d-i I-talia. Of a similar character was a satire in dialogue, and which appeared a year or two ago, when all the world at Rome was waiting and hoping for the death of King Bomba of execrated memory. Pasquin imagines a traveller who has just returned from Naples, and inquires of him what he has seen there : — " Ho visto un tumore." '* Un tumore ? ma che cosa e un tumore ? " ** Leva il t per risposta." " Ah ! un umore — ma questo umore porta danno ? '* ** Leva r u per risposta." *' More ! che peccato ! ma quando ?— fra breve?" " Leval' m:' ** Ore ! fra ore ! ma chi ha dunque quest' umore ?" **Leval'd7." " Re ! II Re i Ho piacere davvero ! Ma poi, dove andra.? " " Leva r n" ♦*E— eh! e-e-e-h! !"* with a shrug and prolonged tone peculiarly Roman — indicative of an immense doubt as to Paradise, and little question as to the other place — is the last answer. Two years ago, Pasquin represents himself as having joined the other plenipotentiaries at the conference of Zurich, where he represents the court of Rome — Austria speaks German, France * " I have seen a tumour." " A tumour? but what is a tumour?" *' Take away the / for answer." ** Ah ! a humour; but is this humour dangerous?" '* Take away the «." *' He dies ! what a pity ! but when? — shortly?" ** Take away the w." ** Hours ! in a few hours ! but who then has this humour?" ** Take away the or //ere worked in satin — some rich tapestry with Scripture stories — that you want, and with a sigh he opens a cupboard and draws it forth. A strange combination of inconsistent and opposite feelings has prevented him from exhi- biting it before. He is divided between a desire to keep it and a longing to sell it. He wishes if possible to eat his cake and have it too, — and the poor ass in the fable between the two bundles of hay was not in a worse quandary. At last, the article you seek makes its appearance. It is indeed splendid, but you must not admit it. It may be the dress the Princess d'Este wore centuries' ago, faded but splendid still — or the lace of Alexander VI., the Borgia — or an ancient altar cloth with sacramental spots — or a throne carpet of one of the Popes. Do you really wish to buy it, you must nerve yourself to fight. He begins at the zenith, you at the nadir ; and gradually, by dint of extravagant laudation on his part, and corresponding depreciation on yours, you approach each other. But the distance is too great — the bargain is impossible. You turn and go away. He runs after you when he sees that you are not practising a feint, and offers it for less — but still the price is too high, and he in turn leaves you. You pass along the street. With a mysterious and confidential air, another of the tribe approaches you. He walks by your side. Was it a gold brocade you wanted? He also has one like that which you have seen, only in better condition. Would your Signoria do him the favour to look at it? You yield to his unctuous persuasion and enter his shop ; but what is your astonishment when, after a delusive show of things you do not want, the identical article for which you have been bargaining is again produced in this new shop, and asserted stoutly, and with a faint pretence of indignation, to be 404 ROBA jDI ROMA. quite another piece ! This game is sometimes -repeated three or four times. Wherever you enter, your old friend, Monsieur Tonson Hke, makes its appearance, — and you are lucky if you obtain it at last for twice its value, though you only pay a twen- tieth part of the price originally asked. All the faces you see in the Ghetto are unmistakeably Hebraic, but very few are of the pure type. Generally it is only the disa- greeable characteristics that remain, — the thick peculiar lips, the narrow eyes set close together, and the nose thin at the junction with the eyebrows, and bulbous at the end. Centuries of degra- dation have for the most part imbruted the physiognomy, and all of them have a greasy and anointed look. Here and there you will see a beautiful black-eyed child, with a wonderful mass of rich tendril-like curls, rolling about in the dirt ; or a patriarchal-looking old Abraham, with a full beard, and the pure Israelite nose hooked over the moustache, and cut up backward in the nostrils. Hagars, too, are sometimes to be seen, and even stately Rebeccas at rarer intervals stride across the narrow street, with a proud, disdainful look above their station; but old Sarahs abound — fat, scolding, and repulsive — who fill to the extreme edge the wide chair on which they sit, while they rest their spuddy hands on their knees, and shake all over like jelly when they laugh. Almost all the faces are, however, of the short, greasy, bulbous type, and not of the long, thin, hook-nosed class. No impurity of breed and caste has sufficed to eradicate from them the Jewish characteristics. As it is with the faces, so it is with the names. The pure Hebrew names have in great measure disappeared, or been inter- married with Italian surnames. These surnames are for the most part taken from some Italian city, or borrowed from some stately Italian house, with a pure Jewish prefix; as, for instance, Isaac Volterra, Moses Gonzaga, Jacob Ponticorvo. So also their speech is Roman, and their accent thick and Jewish. It is seldom that one hears them speak in their original Hebrew tongue, though they all understand it and employ it in their religious services. The place and the people are in perfect keeping. The Ghetto is the high carnival of old clothes, the May-fair of rags. It is the great receptacle into which the common sewers of thievery and THE GHETTO— ITS PACKED POPULATION. 405 robbery empty. If a silver salver, a gold watch, a sparkling jewel, be missed unaccountably, it will surely run down into the Ghetto. Your old umbrella, your cloak that was stolen from the hall, the lace handkerchief with your initials embroidered in one corner, your snuff-box that the Emperor of Russia presented you, there lurk in secret holes, and turn up again after months or years of seclusion. In this coliwibariiirn your lost inanimate friends are buried, but not without resurrection. Crammed together, layer above layer, like herrings in a barrel, the Jews of Rome are packed into the nairow confines of the Ghetto. Three of the modern palaces of Rome would more than cover the whole Jewish quarter ; yet within this restricted space are crowded no less than 4000 persons. Every inch has its occu- pant ; every closet is tenanted. And this seems the more extra- ordinary in spacious and thinly-populated Rome, where houses go a-begging for tenants, and where, in the vast deserted halls and chambers of many a palace, the unbrushed cobwebs of years hang from decaying walls and ceilings. With the utmost economy of room, there is scarcely space enough to secure privacy and indi- viduality; and, herded together like a huge family, they live in their sty. The street is their saloon, where they sit and talk, in loud snuffling voices, across from shop to shop, and from pave- ment to the opposite garret. The houses are all connected together on the upper floors; so that, in case of inundation, the inhabitants may freely traverse the place without setting foot in the street. Dr. S assures me that, when called to visit pro- fessionally one family in the Ghetto, he has repeatedly been con- veyed from chamber to chamber, from one end of the street to the other, giving advice all the way, and receiving pay as for one visit; and he also added that the best houses of the wealthiest Jews were never free from a certain odour abhorrent to the Christian nostril. Were you transported blindfold to this place, you would at once recognise it by this sign. Fortunately the level of the Ghetto is so low that, whenever the Tiber rises and overflows its banks, as is frequently the case in the autumn and winter, the whole quarter is under water. This is inconvenient, perhaps, but the inhabitants owe a deep debt of gratitude to old 4o6 ROBA DI ROMA. Father Tiber, who thus washes out at intervals this Augean stable. At times the waters rise so as nearly to fill the lower stories in the Fiumara, and in 1846 the houses were inundated even to their ceilings. Despite this purgation the place reeks with foul odours. But if confidence can be placed in the statements of some old authors, there is no remedy for this defect so long as the Jews adhere to the faith of their forefathers. It is, however, an extraordinary fact that, despite the filth and bad drainage of the Ghetto, it is on the whole one of the healthiest places in Rome. The average of deaths is small, fever is rare, and in the year 1837, when the cholera raged in Rome, fewer died in the Ghetto than in any other part of the city. This is certainly a corroboration of the prevalent idea in Rome, that fever avoids places where the air is much beaten by a constant concourse of people, and that the denser the population the safer the residence. The method of cleansing the Ghetto indicated by the learned authors just quoted is not, I fear, a very available one. The Jews pertinaciously resist it, despite the tender invitation held out con- stantly before their eyes every time they issue from the Ghetto by the Ponte Quattro Capi, where they may read in Latin and Hebrew text this sentence from Isaiah (ch. Ixv. ver. 2), inscribed in large letters over the portals of a little church : " I have spread out my hands all the day unto a rebellious people, which walked in a way which was not good after their own thought." This in- scription w^as the happy idea of a converted Jew, who thus showed his zeal for his new religion. Its results have not, however, been as yet very striking, and perhaps, Chi sa ? the Jews apply it to the Christians and not to themselves. Once a year the papal Church, on the Saturday before Easter, baptizes into the Christian faith a recanting Jew, giving him with one sprinkle salvation and the *' odour of sanctity ; " but a certain extraordinary resemblance of features is often to be marked between the converts of successive years, and it is to be feared that the holy Church is sometimes deceived, or — is not : — " Lo ! Micah — the self-same beard on chin He was four times already converted in. " THE GHETTO— BAPTISM. ■ CONVERTS. 407 When this ceremony docs take place, it is performed in the Church of San Giovanni in I^iterano with great ceremony. The proselyte, covered with a white veil, and holding a burning wax candle in his hand as a symbol of enlightenment, is anointed on the neck and head, and sprinkled with holy baptism from the great porphyry vase, in which Rienzi bathed in rose-water. The procession then returns to the church, the cardinal blesses the convert at the altar, and then makes a long sermon at the expense of the new Christian and his old friends in the Ghetto. This concluded, he retires, extricated from the claws of the devil, and, if Fortunatus be correct, "surpassing ambrosial dews with the sweetness of his breath." At earlier periods there have not been wanting converts of emi- nence at rare intervals, and it has even happened that a regene- rated Jew has seen his son admitted to high honours in the Church, and, had his life been sufficiently prolonged, might in his old age have beheld him in the chair of St. Peter ^yielding the thunders of the Vatican. This was the case of a certain Pietro Leone, who in the eleventh century renounced Judaism, and together with his son was baptized by Leo IX., and assumed his name. Both these Jews were most honourable and excellent persons. The father was very rich and learned, and was held in high consideration by Pope Leo. His son also enjoyed the favour of Paschal II., and was made governor of the Castle St. Angelo. The son of the latter devoted himself to literature, and seems to have been much esteemed in his first years of manhood. He was made Cardinal by Calixtus II., and sent legate to France : but here, on the death of the Pope and the election of Cardinal Gregorius under the title of Innocent II., he was seduced by the party opposed to this election, and was elected Anti-pope under the title of Anaclet 11. After this, his conduct seems to have been far from satisfactory. He despoiled the churches, drove Innocent II. from his seat, which he held to his death despite of excommunication, and at last, abandoned by nearly all his par- tisans save Ruggero Duke of Sicily, to whom he had given his sister in marriage, he died in 1138. But let us continue our walk through the Ghetto. Passing 4o8 ROB A DI ROMA. down the Fiumara and turning at a sharp angle to the left, we enter the Piazza di Santa Maria in Pescheria, and see before us the church from which it receives its name. This uncouth struc- ture occupies the site of the ancient temple of Jove or of Juno (there is some doubt which), and is barnacled upon the ruins of the once splendid Portico of Octavia by which these temples were surrounded ; a few of the beautiful Corinthian fluted columns of its vestibule are still standing, cracked and crumbled by fire, and defaced by time and abuse. Some of these are built into the walls of the wretched houses. One or two stand alone, braced by iron bars and supporting fragments of the old cornice, and the two centre ones fronting the piazza are connected by the lofty brick arch which Septimius Severus threw between them to support the entablature after the fire by which the portico was injured in the reign of Titus. Within the enclosure stands the chiurch, and on the arch are the peeling frescoes of a Christian age, drop- ping daily with the decaying mortar. Nothing can be more melancholy than this spectacle. Everything has gone to ruin. Low miserable houses surround this splendid relic of antiquity. The noble columns are broken, stained, and walled up. The splendour of imperial Rome has given place to the Pescheria — the fish market. Step under this arch and look up that narrow, dirty, but picturesque street on the left — that is the Pescheria. Stone slabs, broken and grappled by iron hooks, stretch out on either side into the street, and usurp it so as to leave no carriage- able way between them. If it be market-day you will see them covered with every kind of fishes. Green crusty lobsters, squirm- ing crawfish all alive, heaps of red mullet, baskets of little shining sardines, large spigole, sprawling, deformed cuttle-fish — in a word, all the inhabitants of the Mediterranean are there exposed for sale ; while the fisherman, standing behind them, slashes now and then a bucket of water over the benches and cries out his store. Is the market over — the street is deserted, the marble slabs are crusted with scales of fish, the purchasers and the purchased are gone, but the "ancient and fish-like smell" remains, a permanent bequest, to haunt the place, and mingle in companionship with the other odours of the Fiumara. Great dark holes open into the THE GHETTO— TRIUMPH OF VESPASIAN. 409 houses behind, begrimed with dirt and smoke. Above stretches an arch supported by black beams, over which is reared a series of chambers; here juts out on its iron arm the lantern which illuminates feebly the street at night ; and here, in a grimed corner, is placed a Madonna-shrine with an onion-shaped lamp burning before it. Do what the Jews may, they are forced to accept the Virgin. Here, reposing from his labours, sits a Jew behind one of the stone slabs. He tends the empty bench, with a green cravat on his neck, and a huge gold watch-chain hanging out of his waistcoat pocket. Behind him, grim with filth, is a great square door. Look at it close — it is antique, of the age of Septi- mius Severus ; its lintels are carved in the &gg and cup pattern, and it now serves as the door of his shop, unaltered, save in its use. Everywhere crop out of the walls fragments of columns, architraves, and defaced capitals, and from the windows old petti- coats dangle and flap about among them. Please to remember that this place which I have been describing was once the Portico of Octavia, and then shut your eyes a moment and let your fancy carry you back to the ancient days. Here on this very spot where we are now standing stood the Cupid of Praxiteles, the Diana of Cephisiodotus, the Ludovisi Mars, the Phidian Venus ; just behind us rose the Temple of Juno ; and here the Romans of the Augustan age sauntered between the acts at the Theatre of Marcellus. This was the spot whence Titus and Vespasian led forth their splendid triumph after the destruction of Jerusalem. Through these very columns that stink with fish passed their glittering train, gorgeous with gold, gems and ivory, flaunt- ing Syrian robes of purple embroidered with gold, with richly- caparisoned elephants and dromedaries, then new to the Roman eye; bearing hundreds of statues of every metal, and the ^^ spolia opima " torn from the great Temple of Jerusalem. Yes, over this very ground, where the sons and daughters of Zion drive their miserable trade in old clothes, and where the Pescheria breathes its unsavoury smells, were carried in pomp the silver trumpets of the Jubilee, the massive golden table of shewbread, the seven- branched candlestick of gold, the tables of the law, the veil itself from behind which sacrilegious hands had stolen the sacred utensils 4IO ROBA DI ROMA. of the altar — and in their rear, sad, dejected and doomed, followed Simon the son of Gorias, loaded with clanking chains, and march- ing in the triumphal train of his victors to ignominious death at the base of the Capitol. Shut your eyes and see the procession go by — statues, crowns, elephants, purple robes, flashing figures, laurel-crowned legions, and at last, the chariots, with four milk- white horses abreast, bearing the Emperors Vespasian and Titus, stained vermilion, and dressed in purple and gold tunics, to the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus ; — and when the last robe has flut- tered away, and the last brazen clang echoed through the double rows of marble columns, open them again, and behold the Fiumara and the Pescheria, and listen to the strain taken up after seventeen centuries. It is no longer " lo triumphe^^ but " Ogh clo' " — Roba vecchia. " To what base uses we may return ! " Shut then your eyes again. Thirteen centuries have passed since that vision of triumph. Under the temple of the Jews, close by the spot on which you stand, a boy has been born, and grown to man's estate. To the walls of the little church of St. Angelo in Pescheria he has affixed an allegorical picture, and you hear his voice describing it. There is a great fire, with kings and subjects burning therein ; and among them a matron (who repre- sents Rome) dying in the flames. On the right is a church, from which issues an angel in white robes, bearing a naked sword in one hand, while with the other he drags the matron from the fire. High above on the church tOAver stand St. Peter and St. Paul, and cry, " Angel, angel, succour our protectress ! " Descending from the sky many a falcon (which are barons) has fallen into the flames, while others are pouncing upon a beautiful white dove that bears in its bill a myrtle crown. The dove gives it to another bird hunted down by the falcons, that he may place it on the matron's head. Beneath is written : " I see the time of the great judgment, and do thou expect that time." The voice which speaks and ex- plains the picture is that of Cola di Rienzi. You open your eyes to catch a glimpse of the last of the Romans. There is no one near but an old Jew, and by no means the last of them, who shows you a bad mosaic of which he wishes to make a dispensation to you, " for a consideration," and looking on the walls for the pic- THE GHETTO— RIEXZL CHRISTIAN SERMONS, a^^t tiire, you only see a marble slab forbidding the playing of any game in the piazza. But shut your eyes again, and you will hear a trumpet sound, and see Rienzi marching out of the church clad in armour, with his head uncovered, and surrounded by the papal vicar and a goodly retinue of followers with allegorical standards of Peace, Liberty, and Justice. They are going to establish the "good estate," for which he paid with his life. Brushing away these cobwebs of the fancy, you open your eyes again. The church is still there, but Rienzi has gone, never to reappear. It is not worth while to enter the church, — there is nothing of note in it ; or, if there be, any Jew boy about the place will be your Murray. He will also tell you, if he happen to know the fact, that for many years the Jews were forced to listen therein, once a week, to a sermon delivered by a Christian upon the text of their perversity. It was of course a converted Jew, named Andrias, who first conceived so happy a thought ; and Pope Gregory XIII. was well pleased to carry it at once into execution. He therefore ordained that at least loo men and 50 women, which number he afterwards raised to 300, should attend this Christian service. Every Sunday came the sbirri into the Ghetto, and drove the wretched inhabitants with the crack of their whips, like veritable overseers of a slave plantation, into the precincts of the church. Guards stood at the door to make sure that the appointed number were there ; and the sbirri within, if they caught a poor devil of a Jew asleep or inattentive, brought him to his bearings at once by a lash of the whip over his shoulders. The sermon was delivered by a Dominican priest, upon the very text which had formed the theme of Jewish discourse the previous day in the synagogue. The effect does not seem to have been satisfactory, for very few of the Jews were whipped into Christianity, though the lashes were laid on with an unsparing hand. Nevertheless, this practice lasted for more than two centuries and a half, and was only abandoned within the reign of the present Pope. The sermon was at first delivered in the church of San Benedetto, but at a later date St. Angelo in Pescheria was substituted. Passing through the Pescheria and turning to the right we enter 412 ROB A DI ROMA. the Via Rua, which is the Corso of the Ghetto. Here a better set of shops may be found, for here are estabhshed those of the Jewish colony who have amassed a fortune, or at least are on the way to do so. Everything here is shabby enough, but far better than those of the lower part of the Ghetto, and here you will find all kinds of linen, cotton, and woollen cloth piled away on the shelves. Crossing again the Piazza di Pianto, we pass into a little irre- gular place called the Piazza della Scuola, where the synagogue stands. The building is very simple, and offers a special contrast in this respect to every other church in Rome. It is rather sin- gular in its architecture, and in front there are two ugly pillars, and a golden inscription in Hebrew, by which you know it to be the synagogue. All synagogues have a striking family resemblance internally ; and I shall not occupy your time and mine with de- scribing the seats below for the men who always honour God by keeping their hats on during their religious ceremonies, nor the seats far above in the well-like cupola, where the daughters of Israel look down through a grating upon the altar below. When you are in it you feel that the Romish Church has had no hand in making it, and that quite a different worship takes place there on its hard regular benches. However, if you are not satisfied without a full description of it, I refer you to a most interesting chapter on the Jews in Rome in the " Figuren " of Ferdinand Gregorovius, where you will find considerable information on the subject. One bit of information I may be permitted here to give, inas- much as the stranger will not find it in the pages of Murray. The piazza receives its title della Scuola from the fact that the syna- gogue unites in itself five sciiole or schools; namely, of the Temple, Catalana, Castigliana, Siciliana, and of the new school. Each of these represents a parish or ward, which is devoted to a particular class of Jews, according to their nationality, and each has its school in which children are taught to read and write and reckon (the last being of special importance to a people whose law is Numbers). I the more readily ask you not to linger in the synagogue, for THE GHETTO— BEAl^RICE CENCI. 413 there is matter much more attractive in that great irregular building, half-palace, half-barracks, which stands over opposite to it, and has already attracted your attention. That is the famous Palazzo Cenci. Can anything be more appropriate than that the Palazzo Cenci, which, being interpreted into the vernacular, sig- nifies "the Palace of Rags," should crown the highest ground of the Ghetto. There it stands, lifted on a rising mound, which is formed of the debris and ruin of the Theatre of Balbus, now only an informal mass of rubbish, and looking down over the Piazza di Pianto. Yes ! the Cenci Palace most fitly looks down into the Place of Weeping. The very name has already awakened in your heart a confused feeling of sorrow and indignation. The painful, melancholy, terrible story we all of us know has risen like a night- mare before your imagination. The place is hideous to you, for it embalms one of the most tragical of all earth's tragical histories. Shall we ascend the slope that leads to its cortile? This is the back entrance. The scene has strangely changed since Francesco Cenci, like a demon, ranged its rooms. One now sees French and Roman soldiers looking out of its windows, where they have their barracks, and hears the discordant trumpet-practising that echoes through its halls and shakes the rattling panes. Through that door we used to ascend to Overbeck's studio, which was open to the public every Sunday ; and as if the spirit of contradiction possessed the place, it was here that he created his outlines of the New Testament history, and gave all his genius to the adoration of the Madonna and the saints. A ghost-like man he was, ascetic and dry in his manner and look, with long hair piously combed behind his ears, solemn in his voice and gesture — a sort of outline himself with almost no flesh and blood in him, who walked about his studio in a long priestly sort of dress, and explained his char- coal outlines. His figure was in form like one of the dryest of the early Siena school, without any of that gorgeous colour in which the primitive painters loved to indulge, but which Overbeck considers to be too sensuous for spiritual art. He is no longer to be found in the studio which he occupied here for so many years ; and the pencil has given place there to the musket. This is the back of the palace ; it fronts on the Piazza Cenci, a 414 ROBA DI ROMA. dreary and deserted place enough. Look up at it. Over a high narrow archway juts out an iron balcony, from which Beatrice may have looked with those sad eyes, that were friends with grief. It is easy enough to see her there still, if one have a lively imagina- tion. Underneath her gapes the great black hole of entrance, looking like a fit vestibule to some horrible inquisition, or even, if possible, to some worse place. Per me si va nella ciitd dolenie might be inscribed over it, so grim and ugly is its aspect. Sooty, grimed with the dirt of ages, and doorless, it seems like the passage to Acheron ; nor is the illusion dispelled as you ascend its ruinous slope of brick stairs, and pick your way along its filth and ordure ; for, glancing down doorways on the right, you see long black passages leading down and down into subterranean depths, that stretch out of sight into darkness. Glad enough are you when you have passed the obscenity and stench of this passage to issue into the light of day in the cortile, and see the sunshine playing on the granite columns, and antique friezes, and open corridors of arches. But on the pavement here are open gratings, through which you look down into subterranean oubliettes, the caverns probably of the old Theatre of Balbus, where God knows what crimes may have been perpetrated in barbarous ages. A sort of ugly horror seems to possess the whole place, which even the sunshine cannot quite dispel. As you stand in this co7'tile you see directly before you a little church, founded in 1113 by Cencio, Bishop of Sabina, and rebuilt by Francesco Cenci in expiation of his atrocious crimes, or rather as a bribe to the church for absolution. Let us read its inscrip- tion : ^^ Franciscus Cencius, Christopheri filius, ei ecclesice patronus templum hoc rebus ad divinum cultum et ornatwn necessariis ad perpetuam 7'ei memoriain exornari ac perfeci curavit — anno Jubilei MDLXXV.'' Think what the church must have been of which Francesco Cenci could dare to call himself "patron." It is fitly dedicated to the unbelieving St. Thomas. We have now gone through the Ghetto ; and it remains for me to set down a few notes relative to the history of this little colony of Jews, and of the oppression under which they have suffered. Among the heathen Caisars the Jews had been forced by THE GHETTO— PRINCELY JEWS IN ROME. 415 imperial decrees to perform three sacrifices for every new emperor. First on his installation ; then on the occasion of any illness ; and third, in case of any war undertaken by him. These, it was not only incumbent upon the Jews in Rome to perform, but, after the taking of Jerusalem, upon the whole people wherever it might be. Their history has never been wTitten in detail, though it well deserves to be at least made the subject of a monograph. Herr Gregorovius has however collected a number of facts relating to this matter, to which I have been indebted in my own investi- gations, and which I have invariably found to be exact as well as interesting. It was about a half century before the birth of Christ that Pompey the Great entered Jerusalem, and struck the first terrible blow at the Israelite nation. He trod the secret places of the Temple with the profane feet of a conqueror, and brought away with him to Rome a number of Jews to serve as slaves in the city soon to be imperial. These were the ancestors of the colony which now throngs the Ghetto. Besides these might be then seen at Rome numbers of distinguished Jews, of princely family and fortune, whom curiosity or pleasure led to the world's central city. Here, among others, came Herod, Antipas, Antipater, the Jewish princess Salome, and Agi-ippa, walking the streets with stately retinues, gazing on the games from the boxes of the emperors, and even admitted to their table as guests. Agrippa was the friend of Drusus, and though he expiated his friendship by six months of imprisonment under Tiberius, he became again the friend of Caligula, by whom he was made king of the Jews. These figures, however, gradually disappear from the streets of Rome ; Agrippa and his daughter Veronica being the last princely robes of which we catch a glimpse. Henceforward the humble and degraded Jew alone remains, despised by the Romans who conquered his people, and trailing his dirty gaberdine along the public ways, or working with his fellow-slaves in building the Colosseum and the Arch of Titus. The procession has soon passed by, and the mob follows. To this wretched class the great Julius was kind ; and during whole nights after his death it is related that they went to his 41 6 ROB A DI ROMA. funeral pile, and wept and sang death wails over him.* Augustus was even more considerate to them, allotting to them a special quarter of the Trastevere for their habitations, but giving them also full freedom to earn their living as they could in the city. Besides this, he permitted them, as we learn from Philo, to establish synagogues in which they might worship after the law of their religion, and to send to Jerusalem the gold they received from the sale of the firstlings of the year. He even went so far in his liberality, says Philo, as not only to allow them to make fiill sacrifice at their altars, but even himself adorned the Temple of Jerusalem with costly presents, and ordered that their division of grain should not be required of them on the Sabbath, that being a day when by their law they were forbidden to perform labour or business. But these sunny days were not long to last. Augustus died, and the Jews, in gratitude for his kindness, wept and bewailed for him a week. Then came Tiberius, his successor, who laid a heavy hand upon them, banishing some into unhealthy places, ordering the remainder to burn their religious vestments and paraphernalia of worship, and driving them all from the city under penalty of perpetual slavery if they disobeyed. This was but the forecast, however, of what they were destined to suffer at the hands of Caligula, who took delight in heaping upon the whole nation cruelties and follies which could only have entered into the brain of a madman. It was upon the Jews at Jerusalem that he specially poured out the vials of his wrath, in the shape of confiscation of their property, exile, death, and per- sonal outrages of every description. Not content with this, he finally ordered Petronius to erect his statue in the Temple of Jerusalem, and forced the Jews to pay it divine honours. But, touched by the prayers of the people, who flung themselves on their knees before him, and implored him rather to slay them, and indignantly refused to outrage their conscience and their God by such impiety, Petronius promised to advocate their cause. He accordingly wrote a letter to the emperor, praying him to revoke his decree ; in answer to which Caligula sent a messenger with orders at once to slay Petronius for his disobedient delay. For- * Sueton. in Julius Goes. 84. THE GHETTO— CALIGULA AND THE JEWS. 417 tLinately, however, the vessel which carried the fate of the imperial prefect was so long beaten back by tempest and adverse winds, that the emperor died before it arrived, and the life of Petroniiis was saved. Nor did the Jews of Alexandria fare better with this mad emperor. The cruelties inflicted upon them finally became so intolerable that they determined to send an embassy to him, praying for relief Philo, who was the chief of this deputation, has left us an interesting account of it in his famous " Embassy to Caligula," in which we catch a glimpse of imperial manners, rather shocking to our modern ideas of courtly decorum. As the depu- tation passed through the splendid halls and porticoes of the Palatine palace, it suddenly came upon a tall, ill-proportioned man, with small eyes, stern, broad broAvs, sparse hair, and a thick beard. He was clothed in so extraordinary a manner as to leave it doubtful whether he meant to represent a male or a female divinity, and was standing between an actor and a steward of the palace. This was Caligula. The Jews at once prostrated themselves, and cried, '■^ Salve Lmperator et Augustus^ ''These, then," said Caligula, looking fiercely at them, " are the people who adore an unknown God, — the impious wretches ! — enemies to gods and men, who refuse to pay me divine honours." The Jews eagerly protested that they loved him, and had sacrificed hecatombs in his honour, and particularly when he was ill, had offered up prayers for his recovery. "Yes," replied Caligula, "you sacrificed — but to another god, not me. You did me no honour." Then, without another word, he rushed off into another hall, giving orders to his attendants to alter this statue or that picture, while the poor Jews followed him from room to room in an agony of fear and sus- pense. All at once ^lie emperor turned round to them again, and said, mockingly, " Why do you Jews eat no pork ? " To this witticism the deputation answered as well as they could, while the courtiers manifested their approbation of the emperor's humour by loud jeering and immoderate laughter, which they prolonged almost to the verge of indecorum towards the emperor himself, who suddenly cut short the noise by saying, " You are right ; it is a nasty meat;" and then ran about as before, pointing out 2 E 41 8 JiOBA JDI ROMA. pictures. At last he dismissed them, saying, " These people are not so wicked as they are mad in denying that my nature is divine." * Well might Agrippa's knees shake under him with fear, and a faintness as of death come over him, when he heard in Rome of the horrors of Alexandria and Jerusalem, f Bosom friend as he was to Caligula, the thought to what fate an imperial whim might at any moment subject him and his daughter must have been far from quieting. . Despite the order of Caligula, it would seem that some Jews still remained, or afterwards returned to the city. But Claudius, his successor, in the year 51, drove them all away outside the walls. Suetonius says, in his life of this emperor : '' The Jews, who were constantly excited to tumult by Chrestus, he expelled from Rome."| And this is all the mention he makes of Christ, and all the knowledge he seems to have had of the head of the Christian world, whose followers he afterwards speaks of as a "race of men of a new and wicked superstition" genns homtnum superstitionis novcR et vialeficcE.% This was Caligula, to whom the Popes are indebted not only for the lessons they received as to the proper treatment of Jews, but also for that custom, which is still in prosperous vitality among good Catholics, of offering the foot to their subjects to be kissed. This practice was first introduced by him, and Seneca indignantly declares it to be the last affront to liberty and the introduction of Persian slavery into Rome. Under the subsequent Caesars, from Nero to Vespasian, the condition of the Jews remained unchanged. They were not per- mitted to live on the Cistiberine side of Rome, though they could come into it. They were treated like outcasts, and it was consi- dered shameful for a Roman to enter their synagogue. At times they were even thrown to the wild beasts of the arena to gratify the populace. But still they had a country. Under Vespasian and Titus Jerusalem was destroyed, and the whole nation, after suffering terrible cruelties, were scattered as wanderers over the earth, to be henceforward homeless and nationless. A great * Philo, Legatio ad Caium. t Flav. Josephus, b. xix ch. I, Hist. Jud. X Suet, in Claud. 25. §" Suet, in Neronem, xvi. THE GHETTO— SPOILS OF JERUSALEM. 419 number were brought as prisoners to Rome, to grace the triumpli of the emperors over the destruction of their city; and, after marching in chains in that gorgeous procession of which Joscphus has left us so vivid a picture, were placed in the galleys and forced to build the magnificent arena of the Colosseum, in which some of them were afterwards "butchered to make a Roman holiday.'' Even a greater monument of their disgrace they erected, when their unwilling hands laid the stones of the Arch of Titus to cele- brate the destruction of Jerusalem ; and to this day no Jew will pass under that fatal arch. Titus also brought with him from Jerusalem the seven-branched golden candlesticks, the jubilee trumpets, the incense vessels of the altar, the table of shewbread, the sacred veil that divided the Temple, the tables of the law — all the utensils which were so holy in the eyes of the Jews. These, after being carried by the Jewish prisoners in the triumphal procession, were placed in the Temple of Peace built by Vespasian, with the exception of the veil and the books of the law, which were placed -in the emperor's palace. No trace of any of these spoils now remains. Some of them were carried away to Africa by Genseric when he desolated the city. Belisarius, however, afterwards recovered them, as we learn from Procopius, and sent the golden candlestick to Constantinople, where it was placed in the church. They are now lost, though there is a tradition that Helena, the mother of Constantine, restored the books of the law to Rome, and placed them under the altar of the Church of St. Giovanni in Laterno ; and accordinof to the popular belief in the middle ages, a seven-branched candle- stick in the same church was that taken from the Temple of Jerusalem. The golden fillet is also mentioned as existing in the Temple of Peace at the time of Hadrian. This great influx of prisoners and slaves largely increased the colony of Jews at Rome, but their condition was not im- proved. Vespasian issued a decree, ordering them to pay to the Capitoline Jupiter the poll-tax of half a shekel which had before been given in to the treasury of the temple, — and this tribute the Jews still pay, not to the Capitoline Jupiter, but to the Capitoline Camera. 420 ROBA DI ROMA. Domitian, savage to all, and peculiarly refined in his cruelties, took from them the scanty privilege of a residence in the Tras- tevere quarter, and drove them entirely out of the precincts of Rome. From this time forward they led a pariah life outside the walls, the scoff and jeer of all, earning a miserable pittance by fortune-telling, interpretation of dreams, magical arts, and thieving. They seem to have occupied much the same position, and to have followed the same pursuits, as the gipsies of the present day; wandering about, sleeping chiefly ^^ sub Jove,'' and so poor that Juvenal speaks of them as having only a basket and a bundle of hay — the former to hold the scraps of food they purchased or " obtained," and the latter to serve as bed. The cophus or basket was, according to Sidonius, the badge of the Jews, as the tiara was of the Egyptians, and in it they carried their food, so as to keep it separate and out of danger of pollution. They congre- gated chiefly in the grove formerly sacred to the Camenae, outside the Porta Capena (which answers to the present Porta San Sebas- tiano), in the valley of Egeria. This is not the valley beyond the Tomb of Cecilia Metella, which now most improperly bears this name, but the low wooded ground lying just beyond the walls between the Via Appia and the Via Capena. For the privilege of remaining here each Jew paid an annual stipend — " Fiscus Ju- daicus'' — which Domitian sternly exacted, sufl'ering no one to escape payment. So severe was he, that- Suetonius relates an instance of which he was an eye-witness, when, in presence of a full council, the procurator obliged an old man of ninety years of age, who affirmed himself not to be a Jew, to submit to a personal inspection in order to discover whether he had been circum- cised. Two passages in Juvenal give us a viyid picture of the locality occupied by the Jews in his time, and of their occupations : — " Substitit ad veteres arcus, madidamque Capenam ; Hie ubi nocturnse Numa constituebat amicoe ; Nunc sacri fontis nemus et delubra locantur Judaeis, quorum cophinus, foenumque supellex. Omnis enim populo mercedem pcndere jussa est Arbor, et ejectis medicat silva Camoenis. THE GHETTO— ANCIENT JEWS IN ROME. 421 In va^lem Kgerix' descendimus ad speluncas Dissimilcs vcris."* And this ; is it not the perfect likeness of a gipsy of to-day, telHng fortunes and promising all you wish for the smallest coins ? — "Cophino foenoque relicto Arcanum Judaea tremens mendicat in aurem, Interpres legum Solymarum, et magna sacerdos Arboris, et summi fida internuncia coeli ; Implet et ilia manum, sed parcius, sere minuto. Qualiacumque voles Judsei somnia vendunt." + The mode in which the Jews were treated by the Romans is thus graphically told by him : — " Stat contra, starique jubet, parere necesse est ; • Nam quid agas, quum te furiosus cogat, et idem Fortior? ' Unde venis?' exclamat ; ' cujus aceto, Cujus conche tumes ? quis tecum sectile porrum Sutor, et elixi vervecis labra comedit ? Nil mihi respondes ? aut die, aut accipe caleem. Ede ubi consistas, in qua te qua^ro proseucha.' Dicere si tentes aliquid, taeitusque recedas Tantumdem est ; feriunt pariter : vadimonia deinde Irati faciunt : libertas pauperis hoee est. Pulsatus rogat, et pugnis eoncisus adorat, Ut liceat paucis cum dentibus inde reverti." :J: From the time of Domitian forward, under the later Caesars there is little which I have been able to find. Hadrian for the second time destroyed Jerusalem, and as great numbers of the people were sold into slavery cheaper than negi'oes, probably their condition did not improve in Rome. Alexander Severus seems, however, to have permitted them to return to the Traste- vere district, and thenceforward that quarter of the city was abandoned to them ; the present Ponte St. Angelo receiving from this fact the title of the Jews' bridge. In the interval between this emperor and Constantine the Jews would seem to have held up their heads and bettered their condi- * Satire iii. v. 11. f Satire vi. v. ^\2 ei seq. X Satire iii. v. 290. 422 J^OBA DI ROMA. tion, for we find that Constantine issued a decree forbidding them to take Christians into their service, which would indicate that they had attained a position much superior to that occupied by them under the first Csesars. And although the Theodosian codex separated the Jews and Christians by strenuous provisions, and also forbade the former to celebrate a certain festival in memory of the hanging of Haman, the Jews continued to increase in influence, and even at times to attain to positions of import- ance. They particularly applied themselves to the study of medi- cine, and became in the middle ages the great masters of this art To the early Popes of Rome they recommended themselves by skill in pharmacy, and were sometimes received by them as friends. They also distinguished themselves in other walks. Benjamin of Tudela, in his journey, relates that, in the time of Alexander III. (1159-85) he found 200 Jews in Rome, who were respectable men, paying tribute to no one, and some of them engaged in the service of the Pope. Two of them he mentions as very accom- .plished persons, Rabbi Daniel, and Rabbi Dehiel, a clever and learned young man, who was chamberlain to Alexander. Such was the reputation of the Jews for skill in medicine, that, despite their religion, the rhost bigoted of the Popes, down as late as the time of Leo X., chose their physicians for the cure of the body from the very class which they cursed in their bulls and oppressed by their edicts.* Mixed up in this manner among the families of the princes, the distinguished Jews often resided in their household, and in case of conversion took their name ; and if physiognomy do not lie, and there be any dependence to be placed on Lavater, some of the princely families of the present day have inherited their noses if not their brains. None the less, however, were the Jews the football of the suc- cessors of St. Peter, who alternately degraded them with ignomi- nies and exalted them to dignities. The Popes emulated the first emperors in their treatment of this outcast nation, and, as we shall * A complete enumeration of all the Jewish physicians attached to the Popes may be fomid in the work of Mandosio, " Degli Archiatri Pontefici.'' Rome, 1784. THE GHETTO— HOMAGE OF THE JEWS. 423 see, exceeded them in cruelty and inhumanity. There are no acts so inhuman as those whicli are done in tlie name of reHgion, and the pretext of piety has covered the foulest deeds that have ever disgraced the history of mankind. Under the Popes, various councils soon began to embitter the condition of the Jews. Decrees were passed ordering them to wear shameful badges by which to be recognized and avoided, and at certain periods they were prohibited from all communication with Christians.* These, however, were in measure evaded or a release was purchased — for what is not vendible in this " bottega di Roi?ia^'' as the papal city has been aptly called? The fear of death which haunted the heads of the Church often induced them to lay aside their religious scruples and accept aid from physicians whose creed was as deadly as their practice was sanative. And so, winding a devious way, through bigotry, superstition, cruelty, and fear, the thread of Jewish history in Rome shows itself at intervals in the gorgeous fabric of the Papacy. V/hen the Popes took the place of the emperors, and Chris- tianity assumed the purple robes, the forms of sacrifice were changed, but the homage was exacted. Upon the installation of the Pope a deputation of Romish Jews were obliged to present themselves to his holiness on the public way of his triumphal procession, singing songs in his praise, and carrying on their shoulders a copy of the Pentateuch written on parchment, bound in gold, and covered with a veil, which on bended knees they offered to him, beseeching his protection. The successor of Peter took the book, read a few words from it, and then putting it behind him said, " We affirm the law, but we curse the Hebrew people and their exposition of it." Having thus graciously ac- cepted their homage, he proceeded on his way ; and the deputa- tion, full of fears for the future, retired to their humble quarters in * By the Aurelian Council of the year 540, the twenty-ninth canon pro- hibits the Jews from holding intercourse with Christians in Holy Week from the day of the supper to the second Sunday in Easter, in any place or on any occasion. The same order is extended in the Lateran Council, held in the time of Innocent III., to all " diebus lamentationis et Dominico Passionis." See Menocchio, Stuore, ch, 82, vol. iii. 424 ROBA DI ROMA. the Ghetto, saluted on all sides by the cries and scoffs of the populace. It was Calixtus the Second who revived the old usage, and re- created it in this form in the year 1 1 1 9 ; and his successors were so much pleased with it that they continued it thenceforward for nearly four centuries. The spot on which this homage was generally offered was at the Bridge of Hadrian, the second destroyer of Jerusalem, but some- times it was performed on Monte Giordano. The ill-treatment to which the Jews were subjected by the mob in these public places at last became so excessive, that in 1484 Innocent VIIL, taking compassion on them, received them in the enclosure of the Castel St. Angelo. Burkhard, the master of ceremonies of the Pope, gives us the address of the Jews, and the response of the holy Father, in these words. Extending the copy of the Pentateuch, the chief of the deputation said, in Hebrew, " Most Holy Father, we Israelites beseech you, in the name of our synagogue, that the Mosaic law given by Almighty God to Moses, our priest on Mount Sinai, may be conceded and allowed to us, as by other eminent Popes the predecessors of your holiness it has been con- ceded and allowed." To which the Pope replied, "We concede to you the law, but we curse your creed and your interpretation ; for he of whom you said, 'he will come,' has already come, our Lord Jesus Christ, as is taught and professed by our Church." On one occasion Pius HI., in the year 1503, being ill, received this deputation in a hall of the Vatican. But Julius II. imme- diately remanded the ceremony to the Bridge of Hadrian, where he made a long sermon on the occasion, and his physician, the Spaniard Rabbi Samuel, also spoke with eloquence. His suc- cessor, Leo X., received this homage with still greater pomp and circumstance, as is evident from the description of the occasion by his great master of ceremonies Paris de Grassis. This worthy person tells us that the Jews stood before the door of the Castel St. Angelo on a wooden scaffold covered with gold brocade and silken carpets, and bearing eight burning wax candles. There they held up the tables of the law, and while the Pope rode by on THE GHETTO -TAPESTRIES AND EMBLEMS ^2^ his white horse, fat, sensual, and repulsive (for surely, if the portrait Raffiielle has left us of this voluptuary be faithful, nothing could have been less spiritual than his appearance), the Jews made their customary humble appeal, and this holy figure, differing some- what from that of the chief of the apostles, made the usual response. What a picture it must have been ! Perhaps Adrian saw it with a satirical eye, thinking little better of the Pope than Mosheim, who places him in the list of atheists, or than the Venetian ambas- sadors, who give accounts of his gross excesses and vices of a nature to scandalize the lowest rake of this century. However this may have been, certain it is that the ceremony was discontinued by honest, pious, and ascetic Adrian, and was not again renewed. Yet it was not to be permitted to the Jews to be absolved from humiliations, and, though the homage was not exacted, they were obliged to cover wath costly stuffs and carpets a portion of the street over which the papal procession took its way. At the in- stallation of Gregory XIV., the steps of the Capitol and the Arch of Septimius Severus were adorned by them ; but by a refinement of annoyance worthy of a papal court, they were subsequently bound to decorate with their richest tapestries, silks, and embroi- deries, the detested Arch of Titus, built to commemorate their own degradation and the destruction of their holy city, as well as the whole road leading thence to the Colosseum. These tapes- tries and hangings bore upon a gold ground embroidered emblems designated by the Pope, with Latin texts taken from the New and Old Testament, The emblems, generally twenty-five in number, and expressive of every sort of fantastic allegory, were woven by the Jews themselves in their dirty Ghetto, and doubtless had hatred and indignation enough wrought into their texture to give a jettatiwa to the Pope who passed over and under them. In course of time these scriptural allegories became confused with pagan devices. The Old Testament and Roman mytholog}' in- termarried and gave birth to designs absurd in sentiment and hai'occo in style, — Apollo, Moses, Minerva, the Virgin, Popes, donkeys, and heraldic animals, grouping amicably together, to illustrate texts from the Bible — somewhat after the fashion of " Bould Homer, Venus, and Nicodemus " in the famous gardens 426 ROBA DI ROMA. of "the groves of Blarney." Some of these very tapestries, I doubt not, might even now be raked out of hidden chambers in the Ghetto, if any one had the will to purchase them. At a later period Pius VII. (Chiaramonti), at the beginning of the present century, exempted the Jews from this tribute, and in place of it allowed them to present a book, bound in costly style, and with emblems exquisitely painted in miniature, which was dedicated with Latin verses to the Pope. One of these books was presented to Gregory XVI. It was painted by Pietro Paoletti of Belluno ; that painter being selected in honour of the Pope, whose native town was Belluno j and was sent by his holiness to the cathedral there, where any one who is curious may examine it. To Pius IX. a similar book was presented, which cost no less than 500 scudi. Let us now retrace our steps to the thirteenth century, when Innocent III., in the year 12 15, re-enacted the decrees of the council ordering the Jews to wear badges of their degradation. From this time forward, for more than two centuries, they were" alternately favoured and oppressed, according to the character of the Pope — generally, however, being admitted to a certain position in case of eminent qualities and acquirements. Thus, John XXII. (1316), being adverse to them, prohibited the use of the Talmud, and ordered it to be pubHcly burned. Benedict XIIL (1394), on the contrary, being favourable to them, ^allowed a Jewish woman to take the care of his wardrobe, and a Jewish physician to take care of his body. This worthy leech, whose name was Joshua Halorki, was converted by him to the Christian faith, and, under the new title of Hieronymus de Sancta Fide, wrote certain works against the Talmud and on the perfidy of the Hebrew nation, for which service he received high honours from the Pope and as deep curses from the Jews. Innocent VII. {1404) was also propitious to them, and among other privileges he granted to some of the Jewish physicians the freedom of the city, and exempted them from wearing the igno- minious badge of their people. Martin V. (1417) showed a like graciousness, and did them the honour to select his favourite physician from among them. THE GHETTO— CARNIVAL RACES BY JEWS. 427 But these sunny clays now came to a close. The Papacy grew strong, and its enemies felt the weight of its hand. In Euge- nius IV. (Condolmieri, 143 1) the Jews found a cruel master. He banned them from the city, forbade them to hold any public office, and decreed that their testimony should not avail in a court of justice against that of a Christian. Besides loading them with taxes and tributes, he first conceived the happy thought of making their degradation subservient to the festivities of the Carnival. With this view he mulcted them of an annual fine of 1130 scudi in order to defray its expenses. This seed of sorrow took root at once and bore bitter fruit. From this time forward, one of the principal amusements of the Carnival, was to maltreat the Jews; and the sport proved so excellent that cardinals and j/ionsignofi freely took part in it. It was Paul II. (Pietro Barbo), however, who in 1468 first ordained the races of this wretched people in the Corso, and gave form and law to the cruelty of the mob. The programme of ignominy was this : — First, a body of Jewish elders, clothed in a shirt or doublet, preceded the cavalcade of the senators who opened the Carnival. They were then obliged to run races every day; and it was the custom to give them a rich dinner beforehand so as to enable their bodies and spirits to sustain the trials they were to undergo. There were two classes of races ; the one comprising old men, young men, and children, without reference to their nation ; and the other being of horses, asses, buffaloes, and Jews. While it was optional with the former to race or not, it was compulsory with the latter — Jews and asses being treated as belonging to the same category. The racing by the Romans was soon abandoned, but the Jews had not the privilege of refusal, and the sport was too good to be foregone. The course was from the tomb of Domitian, close by the Porta del Popolo, to the church of St. Marco, in the Piazza di Venezia; and amid the howls and shrieks of the delighted bystanders, who showered upon them as they passed the most insulting and dis- graceful epithets, the poor old Jews, a little drunk Avith their repast and the liquor with which they tried to drown the sense of their ignominy, stumbled along the crowded Corso. Noble ladies and purple-robed cardinals and monsignori applauded this degrad- 428 ROBA DI ROMA. ing spectacle, while the Pope himself looked down from his deco- rated balcony, and smiled his approval or shook his holy sides with laughter. If, after the dragoons have cleared a path for the horse races of the Carnival in the present day, you have ever seen an unfortunate dog endeavour to make his way down the Corso through the opening, and heard the screams and laughter, the scoffs and shouts of derision which urge him on in his affrighted course, you may have an inkling of the horror of that race of old Jews. But this spectacle, as we have described it, bad as it was, did not satisfy the greedy demands of the populace or the Pope, and a piquancy was afterwards added to it by forcing the Jews to run with a rope round their necks and entirely naked, save where a narrow band was girt round their loins. This brutal exhibition, more disgraceful to the Pope than to the Jews, was annually repeated during every day of the Carnival for more than 200 years; and it was not until the year 1668 that Clement IX. (Rospigliosi) absolved the Jews from its performance on condition of their paying a tax of 300 scudi., and also relieved them from accompanying the cavalcade of senators, they agreeing in com- pensation to furnish the prizes for the races. Besides this, on the first Sunday of Carnival, a deputation from the Ghetto, composed of the chiefs of the Jews, was forced to go bareheaded to the palace of the Capitol, where were the consei'va- iors of the Roman senate. Here they threw themselves on their knees, presenting to the conservators bouquets of flowers and twenty scudi, which they prayed him to apply to the decoration of the balcony of the Roman Senate in the Piazza del Popolo. They then proceeded to the senator, and kneeling, besought his permission to reside in the Ghetto during the ensuing year. The senator placed his foot upon their brows and commanded them to rise, saying, after an appointed formula, that although they were not acceptable in Rome, yet out of pity they would be allowed to remain. This humiliation is not now required ; but the Jews are still obliged to come to the Capitol, do homage, and pay tribute to purchase the prizes for the races, but (thank God !) it is horses and not Jews that are compelled to run in them. In the mean time, between the institution of these races and THE GHETTO—DEGRADING BADGES, ETC. 429 their discontinuance, this much abused colony was destined to be trodden down by one of the most bigoted, fanatical, and cruel princes who ever sat in the chair of St. Peter — the Neapolitan Caraffa, who in 1555 was made Pope under the title of Paul IV. To him the Christians owed the establishment of the Censorship and the Inquisition at Rome, and the Jews the revocation of all their privileges by the bull '■^ cu77i ni?nis ahsurdumy Hitherto the better class had preserved certain privileges in the midst of their disabilities and degradation. But this bigot, with one blow, sheared them all away. He prohibited Jewish physicians from practising among Christians ; he disabled them from carrying on any trade or handicraft, and from the purchase and sale of merchandise ; he imposed upon them heavy tributes, and prohibited them from all commerce with Christians. Even the title of Don, to which some of the highest Spanish Jews were entitled, he disallowed. Per- fectly to separate them from all other classes, he ordered that they should not enter the city without bearing a badge of Hebraism ; the men a yellow hat and the women a yellow veil ; for, he says, " it is truly too shameless and unseemly that Jews, whose guilt has precipitated them into eternal slavery, under the pretext of receiving Christian compassion, should insolently assume to dwell among Christians and take Christian servants, and even to purchase houses, without bearing a badge." Hitherto, certain Jews had for a long period been silently per- mitted to reside within the walls of the city, despite all the laws to the contrary, though for the most part they congregated together on the further side of the Tiber to avoid close contact with a people who hated and despised them ; but Caraffa now imprisoned them within the narrow limits between the Ponte Quattro Capi and the Piazza del Pianto, now known as the Ghetto, though it formeriy bore the name of the Vicus Judasorum. But Ghetto is its true name — the place of ban — the place for outcasts — as deeply they must have felt when, on the 26th of July, 1556, they were driven sorrowing into this pen and walled up there like beasts. From that time forward to the present day, more than three centuries, they have lived crowded together in its narrow confines, overflowed by every rise of the Tiber, and only by the utmost 430 ROBA DI ROMA. economy of room making space for the necessary separations into families and individuals. On one occasion, when the quarter was overflowed, they begged permission to come out of it temporarily, until the waters should abate, but it was answered that water would not hurt them. But now that they were segregated in the Ghetto certain ques- tions arose. The fourth part of the houses belonged to Romans, and there were even distinguished families residing there, among whom may be mentioned the Boccapaduli and the Cenci. It was impossible for the Jews to live in the houses without the consent of the proprietors, who might keep them roofless and houseless, either by refusing to let their houses at all, or by demanding exorbitant rents from a people who had no choice of place. To guard against this a law was passed, called the ^^Jus Gazzaga,'' which was to this effect — the Roman proprietors should retain the title to their houses, but should be required to make a perpetual lease of them to the Jews for a small annual rent, which by the terms of the contract should never be increased. The tenant was to be entitled to make such repairs and changes in the house as should seem to him proper, and was also permitted to sell and even to devise his interest ; the landlord having no power to dis- possess his grantees or devisees. This '^Jus Gazzaga " is still in force, and the old leases made three centuries ago are still sold and devised as they then were with the same limited rents. Banishment into the Ghetto was not the only evil the Jews sufl'ered under Caraffa. The Inquisition did its holy office unto them, and many a one was burnt in the Campo dei Fiori and the Piazza di Minerva. But the reign of Caraffa was short. Four years had scarcely elapsed when he died ; and, when the Inqui- sition was plundered and the church of the Dominicans stormed, the Jews obtained a temporary relief At least they had the satisfaction of pelting the monument of the Pope with mud and his memory with curses, and one of them even drew over its hand a yeUow glove. At this the people laughed, fortunately for the audacious individual, considering the joke a good one, and Jews and Christians for once united in tumbling down the statue, and dragging through the mud its head with the papal crown upon it. THE GHETTO— A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE. 431 Their relief was, however, short ; for in 1566, Paul V. (Ghislieri) confirmed the bull of Caraffa, and ordained that the gates of the Ghetto should be closed at Ave Maria, after which hour no one should be allowed to pass out or in. Any poor wretch of a Jew belated in Rome was therefore obliged to pass his night under the open sky beside his prison walls, unless he could make interest to open the gate with a silver key. Foot-ball still to the Popes, their fate again changed when Sixtus V. (Felice Peretti), who has inscribed his name on so many of the public monuments and pedestals of Rome, issued in 1586 his bull, " Christiana pietas infelicem HebrcBoi'wii siatum commise- rans,'^ a monument itself to his humanity and truly Christian spirit. This bull threw open the doors of the prison built by Caraffa, and enabled the Jews not only to reside at their pleasure within any walled city or castle in the Roman territory, but also reinstated them in their privileges of carrying on all trades, except the retailing of wine and the sale of grain and meat. Through its provisions their intercourse and commerce with Christians was renewed, and they were allowed to become their servants, though not their masters. It even went so far in its humanity as to improve their habitations, to establish schools and synagogues among them, and to permit them to form a Hebrew library. It prohibited the summons of Jews to Court on their Sabbath, for- bade their baptism by force, the imposition of improper and extraordinary expenses on such of them as were travelling, and reduced their tribute money to a reasonable poll-tax. Sunshine for once streamed in upon them. Their lot had never been so easy. But fortune is a wheel, and to the Jews for the most part a torturing one. In less than ten years it gave a violent turn. Clement VIII. (Aldobrandini) came to the throne, and they were again remanded to their prison and shorn of all their pri- vileges. In this wretched state of impotence and disgrace the Jews remained for two centuries, now and then experiencing a slight relief, as when Clement IX. abolished the law requiring them to run races in the Corso at Carnival, but still occupying a wretched and ignominious position. In the beginning of the i8th century, 432 I^OBA DI ROMA. Clement XI. and Innocent XIII. (the names somehow terribly jar with the facts) renewed Caraffa's bull, forbidding the exercise of all trades to them, with the exception of the traffic in old iron and old clothes, ^^ st7'acci^ ferracci.''^ But it was not till 1740, under Benedict XIV., that they were allowed to sell cloth that was new. How strangely their fate had changed since they were the chosen people ! Then, by the law of Moses, agriculture was their occupation, and traffic was given over to strangers. Now they were only too happy to be allowed to exercise the humblest trades, and were not allowed to own or hire an inch of land, nor to cultivate an inch belonging to a Christian. Thus driven to the wall by the Christians, what, then, was the occupation of this people during these long centuries of disabili- ties? Somehow they must live. The exceptions, as we have seen, distinguished themselves by the practice of medicine, and were received at intervals into the household of the Pope. But the masses earned a miserable livelihood by the most disreputable means, glad enough to earn it in any way. They continued to do what they had done in the time of Juvenal. They told fortunes, they dealt in magic, they made potions, they went about among the people professing mysterious powers, and extorting money from the fears of the superstitious. Here you have the two sides — the science of medicine, and its obverse, the practice of witch- craft. Besides this, they lent the money they scraped together at usorious interest. Their forefathers had invented bills of ex- change; and they certainly took advantage of this invention, revenging themselves on the Christians for the shabby way in which they were forced to accumulate their golden heaps, by exacting an exorbitant interest on every loan which the ne- cessities of the Christians forced them to demand. But in these cases — " We still have judgment ho'e ; that we but teach (Cruel) instructions, which being taught, return To plague the inventor. This even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice To our own lips. " THE GHETTO— ANCIENT PRACTICES. 433 The Church by its edicts had demoralized the Jews to the utmost It had left them no reputable means of acquiring pro- perty. The curse reacted. They took to disreputable methods of securing their livelihoods, and in turn demoralized their perse- cutors. The remarkable bull of his holiness Pius V., issued in 1569, " Hebrccoriim gens sola quondam a Domino electa" gives us a curious glimpse into the habits of the Roman colony of Jews in his day. By the provisions of this bull they were banned from every spot in the Roman States with the exception of Rome and Ancona, and as a reason for this harshness the following state- ments, among others, are therein made : " For not to mention the various methods of usury, by which the Jews entirely consume the means of needy Christians, we also believe it to be clearly established that they are the protectors of robbers and thieves, whom they conceal, as well as receivers of stolen goods, not only of a profane class, but also appertaining to our holy worship, either for the purpose of hiding them awhile, or of carrying them to other places to change their form so that they may not be recognized. Very many of them also steal, under the pretence of carrying on a proper business, into the houses of honest women, precipitate them into the abyss of shameless indecency, and. what is most corrupt of all, they lead astray imprudent and weak persons, with Satanic practices, fortune-telling, wonderful remedies, and the practice of magic arts and witchcraft, into the belief that they can predict future events, and discover treasures, stolen and lost articles, and pretend to powers of divination in other ways which it is given to no mortal to possess." There is little doubt that these same practices are continued to a certain extent even to the present day ; and it is said that the Jewish women still go about the city secretly selling love potions, interpreting dreams, and lending their aid in most disreputable ways to the superstitious and lustful. For the most part, the women, however, exercise the art of the needle, and if there be a carpet to be sewn together, or a rent in one's coat to be repaired, their efficient aid is invoked by all. Their speciality is sewing and mending old and new clothes. The men go about the streets by day buying cast-off garments and rags, or any depreciated 2 F 434 ROBA DI ROMA. article on which the proprietor wishes to raise money. At every public auction their greasy faces, hooked noses, and black eyes are to be seen, and their thick voices to be heard bidding low sums, and appropriating every article which sells at a sacrifice. By night, with a basket on their back and a lantern in their hand, they rake over the refuse heaps in the streets, picking out from them bits of broken glass, rags, paper, and silver spoons if they have the luck to find them, and not till dawn breaks over the house-tops do these night-birds return to their roost in the Ghetto. Under the reign of the Caesars, and at the age of Claudius, the number of Jews in Rome is stated at 8000 ; but this number was diminished under the Popes to about one half, and has since but slightly varied. If we may trust the statements of a work pub- lished in Rome in the year 1667, under the title "Stato Vero degli Ebrei in Roma," there were then 4500 Jews in the city, some 200 of whom were respectable and well-to-do persons. At the present day they number 4000. As they become rich, they generally change the Roman Ghetto for some city where they may live in a manner conformable to their wealth. For the most part they go into Tuscany, where they are entitled to equal rights with the other inhabitants, and chiefly congregate at Leghorn, where they form a large proportion of the population, and engage in commerce. At Genoa, there are, on the contrary, very few Jews ; the cause of which is popularly attributed to the superior shrewd- ness of the Genoese in bargaining, according to the following equations : — Three Christians = i Jew. Three Jews = i Genoese. Three Genoese = i Sciote. The same author also tells us that, despite the disabilities of the Jews in the Roman Ghetto, they had thriven and grown rich. After deducting all the tributes paid by them, which by his calcu- lations amounted every five years to no less a sum than 19,470 scudi^ he estimates their property at a million scudi. " 235,000 scudi (he goes on to say) have the Jews extorted from the THE GHETTO— REFORMS OF LATE POPES. 435 Christians by usury, and no evening passes that at least 800 scudi are not transferred from the pockets of the latter through the Ghetto doors into their houses." Indeed, these usurious practices became so excessive at last as to rouse the hatred of the Romans, and John of Capistrano once besought the Pope, Euge- nius IV., to give him a fleet to carry away beyond sea the whole Jewish population. " Now he (the Pope) is dead," says our author, " it were to be wished that he would send from heaven a fleet to Clement IX. to transport all these thieves out of Rome." No love evidently was lost between the Christians and the Jews at this time. When the French occupied Rome, the prison of the Ghetto, was opened, and permission was given to its occupants to dwell in the city and to engage in trade. But on the return of Pius VII. in 1 8 14, they were again imprisoned and afflicted with their old disabilities. Leo XII., however, was touched by an impulse of humanity, and gave them, besides their privileges under the '"'Jus Gazzaga" the right to purchase houses within the limits of the Ghetto, and hold them in fee. He also enlarged the boundaries of the Ghetto, so as to take in a portion of the Pescheria, and opened eight gates, which, however, were strictly guarded and closed at night. When Pius IX. came to the papal throne in 1846, the Jews enjoyed the sunshine of his first liberal days. At the instance of Don Michele Caetani, Prince of Teano, always a sincere advocate of the cause of this unhappy colony, he confided to a commission the examination of its just claims, with authority to enforce them. The first step taken in these reforms was to exempt the Jews from the necessity of listening every Sunday to a sermon against their religion in the church of St. Angelo in Pescheria. The walls of the Ghetto were then levelled, no more to be raised, Ciceruac- chio himself lending a hand to their destruction ; and permission was given to the Jews to reside within the walls of the city adjacent to the Ghetto, and to exercise certain trades, before prohibited. Some of them gladly availed themselves of this privilege, and hired houses and opened shops beyond the limits of the Ghetto. But upon the return of the Pope from Gaeta, escorted by French 436 ROBA DI ROMA, bayonets, all the liberal decrees were at one blow struck away from the people, and the old tyrannous regime reinstated. Though the rights and privileges conceded to the Jews were not formally repealed, they were silently withdrawn, or so obstructed as to become inoperative. While those who had hired houses and opened shops in the city, and exchanged the squalid Ghetto for better dwellings outside its limits, were' suffered to remain, a stop was put to further emigration/^ The method adopted to secure this end was truly papal. The liberal decrees in their favour had delegated to the cardinal vicar the power to grant permissions to fix their domicile within the city. These permissions, granted freely at first upon petition, were now so obstructed by delays and difficulties of every kind, that the petitioner, wearied out by a long and fruitless struggle, at last abandoned the attempt. Many of the richest Jews then left Rome, and betook themselves to Leghorn, where they are affected by no legal disabilities of caste, diminishing thus the taxable property of Rome to the full extent of their fortunes, which in many cases were large. The ties of old habit bound some of them still to Rome, and they sought a compromise with the government, petitioning to be allowed to invest one-third of their property in the city. This was denied them. The result will be seen by the census. In 1842 there were 12,700 Jews within the Pontifical States, and in 1853 this number was reduced to 9237 ; 3463, or more than a fourth of the Jewish population, having withdrawn. What then is the present condition of the Jews in Rome? It is shameful, intolerant, and unchristian. A ban is upon these poor children of Israel, which is demoralizing to them and un- worthy of the century and of the Church. They are branded with ignominy, oppressed by taxes, excluded from honourable professions * Within a few weeks of the present time (Feb. i860), a signal instance of the policy of the government towards the Jews has come to my knowledge. One of them having opened a shop just beyond the Ghetto limits, the cara- hinieri came and forced him to close it, under pretence of informality in the licence. In vain the Jew protested, having the misfortune to belong to his caste. The only reply to his expostulations was an order to shut up his shop. THE G/IETTO— DISABILITIES OE JEWS. 437 and trades, and reduced to poverty by laws which belong to IxirbaroLis ages. Shut up in their Ghetto, and forced to earn a miser- able livelihood by the meanest traffic, they are then scorned as a filthy and dishonest people. Forbidden to raise their head, the Church that has crushed them under its decrees points at them the finger of scorn because they creep and crawl beneath their burdens. The favours granted them are hypocritical and visionary — the injuries alone are real. That this statement is within bounds a few facts will plainly show. They are prohibited from holding any civil, political, or military office, and from the exercise of any profession or trade of public credit, such as that of advocate, notary, attorney, librarian, goldsmith, manufacturer, smith, stone-cutter, and the like ; though, by a capricious exception, they have of late years been enabled to become carpenters, cotton-weavers, and cabinet-makers. No trade, in fact, is permitted to them, without clear proof that it has already been allowed in the past and consecrated by usage. While they are excluded from the right of taking part in the public works, ordered for the sole purpose of giving bread to the poor of the city, and from the right of embracing any of the fine arts or liberal professions, an exception is made in favour of the professions of physician, surgeon, and pharmacist. But even to the exercise of these there are certain grave obstacles and limita- tions. The public schools and gymnasia are all closed to them, and they are forced to depend upon their private means for all the preparatory and incidental studies imposed as conditions for such a career — such as the course of philosophy, Latin, mathematics, and physics. Admission to the university is only to be obtained by a special authorization upon supplication to the cardinal vicar, and the graduates are bound to take oath that they will exercise their skill only on those of their own religious creed. This limita- tion is even stated on the attestation which is given them in place of a diploma. Once, in semi-barbarous times, Jewish physicians prescribed for the bodily ailments of the Pope and the chief princely houses, but in these civilized days they are only con- sidered worthy to cure each other. They are also allowed to exercise the art of the apothecary or 43^ ROBA DI ROMA. druggist, provided they can furnish documentary evidence of their education and skill; but it is not easy to procure a per- mission from the government, and cases are not wanting where the patent for free practice has been refused to applicants who have fulfilled all the requirements and conditions of the law, and have educated themselves specially to this end — the govern- ment, with a bitter irony, granting, instead of the required permission, an attestation of complete capacity, and there stopping. But in Rome the Jews are not only excluded from all colleges and foundations of public education, except in the above-named case, but also from all institutions of beneficence and charity, such as hospitals, and houses of refuge and protection for poor and invalid persons ; and this notwithstanding they are founded and maintained by funds of the public exchequer or municipality, raised by taxes which weigh as heavily on the Jew as on any other citizen. Again, the Jews in Rome are not even permitted to hire a farm or a foot of soil, or to cultivate it either for themselves or even as labourers for others. If any one hire or cultivate land it is under the name of some Catholic who is the ostensible tenant, and if he be discovered he is subjected at once to pillage and punishment. Prohibited thus from the exercise of honourable professions and trades, excluded from the colleges and hospitals, to the support of which they are forced to contribute, and oppressed by the heavy weight of ignominy which is cast upon them, the moral and material results need not be stated. They are demoralized in character, and beggared in purse. If, despite the restrictions and obstacles which everywhere oppose them, a Jew, by force of talent and energy, succeed in raising himself above the condition of the majority of his caste, and accumulate a little fortune, the government, never weary of oppressing him, denies him the com- mon privilege of investing it in other real estate than the miserable houses within the Ghetto itself; and, as the chief portion of these belong to Catholics or religious confraternities, even this slight concession is little more than a mockery. This law, re- THE GHETTO— LEGAL RESTRICTIONS. 439 called into vigour in 1825, is also extended to all mortgages upon real estate in the city. In the courts of justice, too, they arc placed under a special ban. Their moral dignity not being sufficiently dishonoured by the humiliations already stated, their testimony is not admitted in civil questions, and all notarial acts and papers signed by them as witnesses are declared null. Yet, with an extraordinary incon- sistency, they are accepted as witnesses in criminal cases, with this proviso, that their testimony, however rich, able, educated, and honest the witness may be, cannot avail against that of the vilest Cathohc. The execution of all the restrictive laws against the Jews and the settlement of their religious questions are delegated to an exceptional tribunal under the jurisdiction of the Inquisition, and especially of the criminal tribunal of the cardinal vicar. What justice is measured out to them there may be easily imagined. It is all arbitrary, and according to the weight of the cardinal vicar's hand. In civil causes, not touching com- merce, a decree was renewed in 1834, by which they were with- drawn from the jurisdiction of the ordinary civil tribunals and subjected to ecclesiastical tribunals, composed of a single judge in the first and second instance, who having rarely to do with civil causes was esteemed all the better for the settlement of Jewish questions. Within the last year Pius IX. released them from the obligation of petitioning the cardinal vicar for a special licence, without which they had previously been denied the special passport enabling them to travel within the Roman States. But this alteration is unsubstantial, inasmuch as the bishop, vicar, or inquisitor of any place where they go may arbitrarily expel them at any moment, or limit their stay to one, two, or three days at his pleasure ; or levy a tax upon their entrance, as is actually done in some cases ; and may arrest or imprison any of them who may be induced by necessity or interest to overstay the licensed period for an hour. Let us now see what is their burden of taxation. In 1554 Julms III. obliged the 115 Jewish universities which then existed 440 ROBA DI ROMA, in the Pontifical States to pay each an annual tribute of ten scudi to the " Casa dei Catecumeni." These universities being nearly all suppressed by Paul IV., and the Jews restricted to the three cities of Avignon, Ancona, and Rome, the community at this last city were forced to pay the tribute due from all the universities which were suppressed; and Clement VIII., having inflicted on them other burdens, fixed the annual contribution at 800 scudi^ of which 300 went to the benefit of the Monastery of Converts. These 500 scudi destined to the Casa dei Catecumeni were after- wards increased to iioo, in consequence of this singular fact : — an apostate Jew, named Massarano da Mantova, having written a book against the Hebrew religion, Urban VIII. ordered the Roman community of Jews to pay to him an annual pension of 600 scudi as a reward for attacking their faith, and after his death this pension was decreed perpetually to the Casa dei Catecumeni as an appendix to the 500 scudi which it previously received. In addition to this it was decreed that, if a Jew of any country should present himself announcing his intention of embracing Christi- anity, and before his baptism should withdraw, the expenses of his maintenance should be charged to the community of Jews at Rome. Besides this, they are forced to pay to the surrounding parishes, as a compensation for the Christian population which might other- wise occupy the area of the Ghetto, the sum of 113 scudi annu- ally. Being under the supervision of Catholic ofiicials, they must also pay 205 scudi for presents to them at Christmas and in August. 1 09 "92 scudi are also exacted for apparatus and boxes for the use of the public deputations in the Carnival. A regular tax on industry and capital now paid by 113 individuals, and varying in amount from 4 scudi to 150, is also required. 360 scudi are levied on them as salaries for the attorney, accountant, and tax- collector of the Hebrew university, who are required to be Christians and Catholics. They are taxed one baiocco on every pound of meat they buy. And what is more preposterous than all, the secretary of the vicariat, who has special jurisdiction over the Jews, receives from them an obligatory stipend of 73*60 scudi, paid even now as compensation for the duty which formerly belonged to him of accompanying with carabineers the Jews who THE GHETTO— EDUCATION AND CHARITY. 441 were forced to listen to tlic preaching against their reHgion in St. Angelo in Pescheria. These extraordinary taxes are levied from a population so poor that it is estimated by candid and competent persons that, of the 4000 now included in the Ghetto, more than one half are entirely without property, and are forced to live from day to day upon what chance and begging may bring. All colleges, hospitals, and institutions of charity being closed to them, the expenses of education and the support of their own poor and sick fall also on the Jewish community itself. A serious illness of any one among half of the population throws him at once on the public purse. But under all these exactions the Roman Jews have established a church, a university, and good schools of instruction and elemen- tary education, and tax themselves with 300 scudi to support the poor, in addition to all private charities. The Roman govern- ment and the Roman institutions do not even contribute a baiocco to charity or education ; on the contrary, the financial administra- tion of the university is subject to a commission, the members of which are all Catholics, presided over by the minister of finance, and paid therefor by the Jews themselves. In a people thus oppressed there must be immense vitality and energy, or they would long ago have ceased to exist. But, despite their sufferings, there are in this community persons of admirable education, liberal views, and perfect probity. That a large portion is demoralized and degraded is not so much their fault as their misfortune. The ordinance of Sixtus V., by which Jews are prohibited from employing Christians, is still in force, but it is permitted to Chris- tians to make servants of them. Not only as a class do the Jews suffer in Rome, but they are subject to certain violations of the rights of families, which are ordinarily considered sacred. A baptism effected upon a child before he is of an age to be conscious of the importance of the ceremony, or to give an intelligent assent to the doctrine upon which it is founded, is thought sufficient to authorize the interference of the Church, to entitle it to remove the Jewish child from his parents, and to prohibit all future familiar inter- 442 ROBA DI ROMA. course. The well-known case of the young Mortara is an example of this. The logic of the Church, however, is simple and its con- clusion inevitable. Regret as it may the fact of baptism, the ceremony once performed places the child under its tutelage, and obliges it rather to consider the eternal welfare of the young neophyte than the temporal unhappiness of the Jewish family to which he belongs. In removing the child it simply performs what it considers a duty. But was there ever a sadder spectacle than that sorrowing mother following from town to town the child which had been ravished from her arms, and, in anguish of heart, vainly praying for her maternal rights ? Is any system right the logic of which tends to such results? Suppose some fanatical Catholics, prompted by a purely religious desire to save the souls of unregenerated Jewish children, should enter into a plot to save them in defiance of their families, — and watching their opportuni- ties, should collect a number of them together, and baptize them into the Church, — would it be any satisfaction to the poor parents to be assured, that, by irrefragable logic, the Church would then be bound to deprive them of their little children, and that in thus inflicting sorrow and suffering on these wretched families, it is merely performing a religious duty ? Or is it quite satisfactory to know that the Church is much opposed to such acts, and is ready even to punish any fanatic who should place it in such a dilemma ? There can be no doubt that the Church interferes in such cases as that of the Mortara child with reluctance and regret, and is far from desirous that such incidents should occur, but the difficulty is that it considers itself bound to interfere when they do occur. This unhappy logic strikes in another way. A Jewish father resolved on apostasy has the right to offer up to the Church his wife and children under age. Yet if he withdraw from his vows, he has no right longer to live with his family, in his first religion. Though the children and wife may refuse the apostasy, they can- not be given to the husband and father. The canonical laws order every convert to Christianity to make an offer to the Church of his or her relations ; and if in such cases, during the novitiate of forty days prescribed by law, the individuals thus offered resist i THE GHETTO— AT SUNSET 443 all attempts at conversion, they are then sent back to their rela- tions, who are forced to pay their expenses of maintenance during the forty days.* But the air is thick and full of bad odours in this Roman Ghetto. Let us pass through it. A few steps lead us out of its precincts, and we stand on the banks of the Tiber, whose yellow waters, swinging round a curve, whirl turbidly along, and turn the slow wheels of great mills. The air breathes freshly on our faces, — and picturesque in the soft Italian light rise the towers, domes, columns, bridges, grey lichen-covered roofs, and crumbling ruins of Rome. The sun turns all to gold as it drops to the horizon. The round, broken, ivy-covered walls of the Golden Palace of Nero, that lift themselves before us, it regilds ; the tall dark cypresses are hung with golden balls ; the mediseval tower of Sta. Maria in Cosmedin is sheathed with flashing plates of gold ; the yellow molten river of Midas sweeps along under our feet. Even in the windows of the Ghetto that look out upon it there are golden panes that dazzle the eye. Nature is as prodigal to their humble, ^\Tetched houses as to St. Peter's dome that towers against the evening's sky. It gilds their roofs, and paints the flowers at their rickety lattice windows with dyes richer than Popes' tiaras and Cardinals' robes. It recognizes no difference between Chris- tian and Jew. * I have taken pains in the above account not to exaggerate in any particular the burdens which weigh on this unhappy people in Rome. The facts are sufficiently strong in themselves to awaken pity on the one side and contempt on the other. But that the reader may assure himself of the truth of these statements, he is referred to the article " Ebrei " in the "Ecclesiastical Dic- tionary," compiled by Gaetano Moroni, under the Pontificate of Gregory XVI., who was his patron ; to the admirable pamphlet, " Sull' Emancipazione Civile degli Israeliti," by the Marchese Massimo D'Azeglio ; to an elaborate article on the same subject, published in the journal " L'Educatore " in 1857, from the pen of the Abbe Zanelli ; another, in the " Cimento," by Michele Man- nucci ; and still another, very carefully and candidly written, which lately appeared in the "Nazione," at Florence, on the 26th November, 1859. These among others have been my sources of information, which I have carefully verified by conversation with well-educated Jews, who themselves are members of the Roman community, and suffer under their disabilities. 444 ROBA DI ROMA. Look round. There, trembling behind its opal veil of air, rises the Alban Hill, and blushes soft and rosy as a dream. Villas and towns gleam out on those dim exquisite slopes, and a soft delicate air comes breathing over the Campagna and rustles through the trees that cluster at our feet, and bears its blessing, too, up through the Ghetto streets, where the breath of Christian charity is too daintv to enter. CHAPTER XVI. FIELD SPORTS AND RACES. The Roman Campagna abounds with all varieties of game, and offers a rich field for the sportsman as well as the ornithologist. Here fly birds of every size and plumage, from the tall stalking heron, who lifts himself from the banks of the Tiber and heavily drifts away as you approach, to the invisible lark that, far up in the blue, pours "his full heart in profuse strains of unpremeditated art" — from the long lines of wild geese, that wing their way in wedge-like ranks towards the Pontine marshes, to the smallest beccafico that fattens on the luscious figs of autumn. Wherever you go there are birds, twittering from the hedges, singing in the groves, or wheeling above to spy afar off their prey upon the earth. One English traveller has stated his surprise in passing through Italy to see so few birds, and to hear none of that warbling and twittering with which the English lanes are alive. To him the Campagna was silent — he saw and heard nothing. None are so blind as those who won't see, and none so deaf as those who won't hear. Of all the extraordinary statements made by travel- lers, this seems to me the most amazing. One has only to visit the market of Rome, and see the immense numbers of birds of every kind, to satisfy himself of its entire untruth. Where thrushes, nightingales, and larks are so common as to be an ordinary article of food, it is quite impossible to believe that Rome is deficient in singing birds. Perhaps this traveller was not aware of the fact that birds do not select the middle of the summer or the middle of the day to sing in hot climates. In the marshy plains around Ostia are miles upon miles of half- submerged country where not a dwelling is seen. Here vast fields 446 ROBA DI ROMA, of tall canne, with their flags half-mast high, rustle in the wind — here long, exquisitely tufted grasses wave their plumes, and heavy bulrushes nod, and slender reeds bend before the breeze, — on their crests sings many a little bird, and from beneath their covert start into sudden arrowy flight hundreds of snipes with a shrill wailing whistle. Through the openings sportsmen may wade for a long autumn day, and meet no living person ; and if they do not fill their bags with marsh birds and snipes, it is their own fault. All along the coast, where the blue Mediterranean washes a low sandy country from Ardea round to Furaicino, there is excel- lent quail-shooting. These birds differ entirely from the American quail ; they are smaller, have a uniform grey plumage, and their meat is brown. They migrate in the spring from Africa to Italy, flying by night across the sea in companies of thousands, and dropping all along the shore in the early morning. On the very skirts of the sea the contadini spread lines of nets upon poles, and the quails, exhausted by their long flight, and eager to gain an immediate resting-place, fly lower and lower as they approach land, and alighting on the first strip of the shore are at once caught in the nets. They are thus taken in great numbers, and it is not uncommon for tens of thousands to be brought into the Roman market in the course of a single day. There they are sold for a trifle, and are excellent eating. Those which have strength to fly over the nets seek refuge under the bushes and trees in the country around, where they are flushed by sportsmen and shot on the wing. Woodcocks and various kinds of partridges are also to be found in the woods along the coast as well as in the interior. The woodcocks are remarkably large, and during the winter season the market is full of them. Ducks, too, are found plentifully in the lower marshes and pools towards the Pontine marshes, and there also alight flocks of wild geese on their way across Italy. The season for quails is the spring. In May vast flights of these birds come over, and the sport is at its height. Then the inns at Fiumicino, Ostia, and all along the coast, are thronged with sportsmen. Everywhere you will see them in their long boots and rough homespun clothes, striding out on foot, their FIELD SPORTS— GAME ON THE CAMPAGNA. 447 double-barrelled gun on their shoulder, and a couple of half-bred dogs lashed together and following at their heels. If the ground over which they are to hunt is distant, you will meet them rattling along in a low two-wheeled carretia with a rope bottom, their provisions and dogs lying under their feet, and one of the tough little Campagna horses harnessed into the shafts. All the summer long there is no shooting, except of little birds ; but with October the sporting season again commences. Many a sportsman who has spent the summer in the city then makes an excursion into the country. The hunting villcggiatu7'a commences, the villas are filled, and the crack of guns is everywhere to be heard. From the city the little carrdte set off early in the morning for the dis- tant sport, and by sunrise they are at the huts of Norcini. Here sportsmen often spend weeks, hunting and shooting all day long, and gathering in companies around their rude tables at night to recount the day's sport, to boast of their skill, or lament their bad luck. Some of these banters seek the wild boars that frequent the thick forests of Cisterna and Nettuno, and most exciting and dangerous sport it is; others pursue the roebuck or capriuole ; and others, the ducks, hares, rabbits, woodcock, and smaller game which abound. Most of them are ready to shoot anything and everything they see. Their bags when they return are motley enough, and mingled with game birds is many a one which an Englishman or American would disdain to shoot, as beneath the dignity of a sportsman. Sportsmen and sailors are equally given to long yarns, and the wonderful stories w^hich are told around the board at these nightly gatherings exceed sometimes those of Falstaff and "the misbegotten knaves in Lincoln green." If "confirmation strong" is not to be found in their bags, there is always an admirable reason at hand. The foreigner who berates the Italians as a weak, cowardly set, with no love for manly sports, should take a trip with them for a week's hunting of the wild boar, and he will find the work nearly as tough as deer-stalking in the Highlands, or even as shooting tame birds in an English preserve, with trained dogs to point game and his sisters to look on and applaud his skill. 448 ROBA DI ROMA. Much of the game, however, which supplies the market is taken by the ignominious means of the net. Everywhere on the Cam- pagna you will see them spread to snare the little birds. There is even a less manly way of securing them which deserves men- tion. A sort of green labyrinth of trees is planted in a circle on some height; through this are little alleys and openings, and in the centre is a leaf-covered hut. Here the sportsman carries scores of cages containing singing-birds of every description. Some of these he places in the hut, and some he hangs on the shrubby trees, the branches of which are smeared with bird-lime. The singing and twittering of the little prisoners attract the free birds flying over the trees, and down they drop into the green and inviting arbour. Here they are caught in the bird-lime, from which they cannot extricate themselves, and the guard, who keeps watch in his hut like a spider in the centre of his web, takes them by scores ; sometimes even by hundreds in the course of a single day. Another curious method of decoying birds common among the Romans is by the civetta and a bit of mirror. The sportsman purchases one of the owls which are always to be found in the market by the Pantheon, and taking it out into the Campagna, plants a pole, and ties it securely to the top ; on the ground he places his mirror, and then hides himself behind a bush, or tree, or rock near by. The owl fluttering on the pole, and the glitter of the mirror, attract scores of larks, for these are very curious birds, and they gather around over him to investigate matters. From his hiding-place the sportsman shoots one after another of them without scaring the rest, for their curiosity entirely overcomes their fear, and they return again and again, despite the direful experience of their companions. There is no place in the world more admirably adapted to hunting than the Campagna. It abounds in foxes, and though the fences and walls are often stiff, there are frequent gates and open- ings for those who do not like to take them. Of late years a sub- scription pack of hounds has been kept in Rome, to which most of the Roman nobility and many foreigners arc subscribers. The annual subscription is 30 scudi^ but those who follow the hounds, FIELD-SPORTS— MEET ON THE CAMPAGNA. 449 and are not subscribers, are expected to send in a donation at the end of the season towards the maintenance of the pack. They meet twice a week during the winter and early spring, at an appointed place on the Campagna. On these occasions the scene is very gay. For days before the hunt the talk of all the English is about the "meet," and the Italians, aping the English, call it the ^^ mita." Scores of carriages thronged with foreigners and Romans, and multitudes on horseback, are then seen gathered together on one of the rolling heights ; mingled with them are the red coats of the hunters. Horses are galloping over the green slopes ; companies on foot are exploring the vici- nity — lying in the shade of the ruins — talking and laughing round the carriages. It is a picnic of foreigners. Some bring out their hampers and spend the day in the ruins, and Spillmann has always a store of eatables for those who have not thought to supply them- selves beforehand. Meantime the hounds arrive, and the group of hunters begin to straggle after them. Carriages follow as well as they can. Brown, Jones, and Robinson make little leaps over runnels and any impediments they can find, sometimes getting a tumble on the green sward for their pains, but always intent on showing to their admiring sisters what gallant horsemen they are. Wonderful riders and wonderful steeds make their appearance. Some turn out their feet as if they were dancing, and show the air between them and their saddle at every step in the most gallant way. At last the fox is found, and away stream the hunters, their red coats topping the knolls. The hunt sweeps off in the distance — now lost to sight, and now emerging from the hollows. The volunteers soon begin to return, and are seen everywhere strag- gling about over the slopes. The carriages move on, accompany- ing as they can the hunt by the road, till it strikes across the country and is lost. The sunshine 'beats on the mountains, that quiver in soft purple; larks sing in the air; Brown, Jones, and Robinson ride by the side of the carriages as they return, and Count Silinini smiles, talks beautiful Italian, and says " Yas." He is a guardia nobile, and comes to the house twice a week, if there are no balls, and dances with Marianne at all the little hops. Signor Somarino pays his court meanwhile to Maria, who calls 2 G 450 ROBA DI ROMA. him prince — emphasizing the title when she meets her friends the Goony Browns. And so the hunting picnic comes back to Rome. The last year we had no hunt, for, unfortunately, a young Roman was thrown and either seriously injured or killed; and the Pope declared hunting to be a dangerous amusement, which he could not permit. This broke up the whole sport. The hounds were obliged to be sold, and the English might grumble as much as they chose, and have reason on their side too, but that did not mend the matter. The hunt was over, and with it one of the pleasantest amusements for the foreigner in Rome.* The papal court had not always this objection to hunting. In the old times the hunt was joined in by cardinals and popes themselves, and conducted with lavish luxury and expense. The Venetian ambassadors sent by the government to Rome at the time of Leo X. give some wonderful accounts of these gaieties in the "good old times." One of them describes a hunting-party given by Cardinal Cornelio which is amusing, and shows the vast difference between the papal court then and now. " Matthew Dandolo," says he, " went to hunt with the cardinal on Saturday, and they took a stag, a wild goat, and a hare. The cardinal was mounted on a dapple-grey Spanish jennet of great beauty and nobleness, admirably well paced and ornamented with black housings. He was dressed in a plaited priest's vestment, shirt of scarlet colour, and without lining. On his head, above his skull-cap, he wore a Spanish hat, dark-coloured and orna- mented with tassels of black silk and velvet. They went twelve miles out of Rome to hunt. The company comprised about one hundred horsemen; for when the cardinal goes a-hunting many Roman nobles and gentlemen of other countries, that take pleasure in the sports, accompany him. There was Messer Serapica among others, sad, and very much out of spirits. The cardinal sent on eight mules loaded with nets, which were immediately stretched in a little valley shut in by hills, not very high, but difficult to ascend. Through this valley the stags and boars were to pass. The huntsmen, whose business it is to know the haunts of the stags and other animals and their lairs, had not yet come up, * It is now re-established on the Roman Campagna (1870). FIELD-SPORTS— A MEDLEVAL HUNT. 451 having gone to He in ambush for the game. When they arrived the cardinal dismounted, and took off his upper clothing, remain- ing in a jacket of brown Flemish cloth, cut close and tight to the body. The rest of the company also dismounted. Then the car- dinal having remounted, and assigned to every one his place, they proceeded to a lovely meadow by which the stags were obliged to pass. A small river, deep and swift of stream, ran through it, and it was crossed by several little bridges. This meadow was guarded by dogs, of which there were a great number present. The car- dinal then mounted on a jennet of great value^ which his brother Don Francisco had brought him from Spain, and all set about driving the stag from his cover. Three or four were very shortly put up. Two of them ran into the net and entangled themselves ; one was caught, but the other escaped. Then three exceedingly fierce boars were driven out from the valley, and the whole hunt, horsemen and runners on foot, hounds and mastiffs, followed them a good hour, teazing them incessantly, as they at one moment rushed into the cover, and then again were driven out by the hounds. A fine sight it was to see, and the cardinal was exceed- ingly delighted and exhilarated. After that, in another beautiful meadow where there was only one small shrub, was prepared the buffet of the cardinal, and a table for fourteen persons, and at the head of it a chair of state for his lordship. And thus, some sitting on stools, and others standing, they ate, while the dogs howled at the sight of the food. The hunting-horns were then sounded, and those who had followed the hunt on foot strolled about with their bread and cup of wine in their hands. But in the midst of the dinner down came a heavy shower of rain, which washed all the company well, and watered their wine for them in their cups. They continued their dinner, however, only ordering felt hats to be distributed among the guests. "The repast consisted of the finest fish, both sea and fresh- water, of which the laccia * from the Tiber is the best fish in the world. We have it in the Po, and know it under the name of chieppe; but in truth with us the fish is comparatively worthless. * This excellent fish, which is common in the market of Rome, is the same as the American shad ; but it is not much valued here now. 452 ROB A DI ROMA. There were exquisite wines of ten sorts : sweet oranges peeled, and prepared with fine sugar, were served at the beginning of the dinner with the first dish, as is the custom in Rome. There were three hundred mouths to feed. Then all mounted again, and came to a coppice of underwood, into which some hounds were sent. The huntsmen started a very beautiful wild goat, which the dogs at last caught and killed. Then they chased a hare and took her. After that another stag was found, but was not caught. An hour before sundown they returned to Rome. " The next morning the cardinal sent the produce of the chase on a mule as a present to the ambassadors. He sent also three other mules, each carrying a very fine calf, and twenty very long poles, carried by forty porters, from which hung capons, pigeons, partridges, pheasants, peacocks, quantities of salted meats of various sorts, and most delicate buffalo-cheeses, besides three pipes of wine loaded on twelve mules, carrying two barrels each ; and for every four of these mule loads there was another mule' carrying an empty tun, well seasoned, for holding the wine in the cellar. The wines were of three sorts, and most exquisite. Be- sides all this, there were forty loads of corn for our horses. And Messer Evangelista dei Pellegrini da Verrocchio, house-steward of the cardinal, a man of worship and reputation, addressed the ambassadors, inviting them to dine with the most reverend car- dinal on the following Tuesday. The presents, which were esti- mated at 200 ducats, were accepted, as also the invitation to dinner."* This was the way in which the cardinals of the time of Leo X. gave hunting parties. Of the old palio races of the Carnival, in which buffaloes, horses, asses, and Jews, used formerly to run, the horse-races alone remain. These still, as of old, close at Ave Maria every evening the sports of the day. In the midst of the mad pelting of bonbons and bouquets, the jabbering of Pagliacci and Pulcinelli, the grimaces of buffoons, the obsequious pompousness of the Carnival doctors, the thrumming of guitars, the cataracts of lime-pellets showered * Relazioni Venete, Second Series, vol. iii. p, 94. FIELD-SPORTS— RACES AT CARNIVAL. 453 from windows and balconies, the clattering of carriages and bells, and the wild din of laughter and merriment, when all the riot is at its height, boom ! goes the cannon. It is the signal that the races are about to begin. The carriages at once turn into the by-streets, the crowd flocks closer together, and there is a suspen- sion of hostilities between parties who have been pelting each other all day with flowers, and abandoning themselves to the wild gaiety of the saturnalia of the nineteenth century. We lean over the rails of the balcony and watch the motley crowd below. Sud- denly there is a movement, and down come the papal dragoons, their swords clattering and their horses galloping, while the crowd opens before them its living waves, and closes behind them like the waters after the Leviathan's keel. Arrived at the Venetian Palace, they wheel about, and again come clattering down the Corso. All now expect the race, and thin out from the centre of the street. Around the starting-place in the Piazza del Popolo is built an open square of wooden palchi, where the magistrates of the city and their invited guests are seated. A rope is drawn across, and in the open space beyond the horses which are to run come plunging and rearing. They are covered with spangles and crackling tinsel, and balls armed with sharp points that swing loosely, over their backs. Starting, rearing, kicking, and with difficulty held back by their grooms, they press against the rope and strive madly to escape. The signal is given, the rope is loosely and away they go — the tinsel flashes and crackles, the sharp-pointed balls prick and goad them on, and full speed they i-ush up the Corso. Wild cries salute them as they pass, that madden them more. The crowd in the street opens before them as they plunge along, cleaving the roaring mass. Sometimes, frightened by the din, and irritated by the goads, they start aside into the crowd and leave the wounded and killed behind them. There is almost no Carnival race without its victims. The magis- trates and umpires await them at the barriers drawn across the street at the upper end of the Piazza di Venezia, and cries of triumph salute the winning horse. The owner of the horse then makes his appearance, and receives the palio or prize. This is purchased by a tax levied upon the 454 ROBA DI ROMA. Jews ; who, when they murmur at it, are told to thank God and the Pope that they are no longer obliged to run the races them- selves. Accompanied by a band of music, with the palio raised on a spear over him, the horse then makes the tour of the Corso and principal streets, and receives the applause of the people. After this a crowd generally escorts him to the house of the owner, who makes his appearance at the window, and showers baiocchi and piezzi-baiocchi among them as largesse. Palio races are not confined to Rome, but exist in other parts of Italy. Among the most remarkable are those to be seen at Florence on the day of San Giovanni, when races are run in the Piazza in four-wheeled cocchi invented by Cosmo I. in imitation of the antique chariot races. Equally remarkable are the palio races of Siena. This inte- resting old place retains more of its mediaeval features than any of the Tuscan cities ; and ancient forms and customs which elsewhere have worn out are still exhibited here in the picturesque festivals which take place on the 2nd of July and the 15th of August. On these occasions there are palio races in the famous Campo di Siena, as the principal piazza is still called, where the different contrade or wards of the city contend for a prize. There are seventeen of these conirade; ten of which, selected by lot, are allowed to run their horses at each palio. Each cont?'ada has its protector, and on its festal day two pages, dressed in mediseval costume, may be seen carrying him a great basket of artificial flowers. Between the various conti'ade there is a deep-rooted jealousy, which has outlived the old divisions of party. The an- cient fanaticism which once lead to fearful scenes of violence and bloodshed still breaks out occasionally, and is specially manifested in the races of July and August. For weeks before they take place the go?ifaloniei'e and the representatives of the contrade are in session in the Palazzo Pubblico ; and this subject is eagerly dis- cussed everywhere. In fact, it is almost the only topic of interest to break the uniform sluggishness, and almost deathlike quiet, of this once agitated city. For several days previous to the real palio there are trial races in the Piazza, where a greater or less crowd is assembled. The FIELD-SPORTS— PALIO RACES AT SIENA. 455 festival is a moveable one, not occurring on a fixed day, but always on Vifesta, and generally on Sunday. Each of the coiit7'ade furnishes a horse, which takes its name and wears its colours. There are the Tartaruga, Selva, Chiocciola, Pantera, and Aquila, forming the first division ; the Valdemontone, Torre, Nicchio, Civetta, and Leocorno, forming the second ; the Drago, Oca, Bruco, Giraffa, Lupa, and Istrice, forming the third.* The purse is only about 180 Frances coni ; but party spirit runs very high, and there is private jockeying and betting to any extent — the means to obtain the prize not being always perfectly scrupulous. The race is run in the Piazza del Campo, which on these festivals is decorated with much taste. Around the semicircle fironting the great Tower of the Palazzo Pubblico are erected stagings, with tier above tier of seats. From all the windows stream rich drape- ries of every fabric and colour ; some of silk and satin, some of tapestry, and some embroidered in silver and gold. All the world is "abroad to see," and every nook and corner is crammed with people. The Piazza, which is in shape a vast shell, of which the hinge is the magnificent old Palazzo Pubblico, slopes upward, amphitheatre-like, to the outer edge of the semicircle, which is rich in palaces. The centre is so densely crowded by the population of Siena and of the country around, that one might almost run across it on the closely packed heads. The pavement is strewn with yellow sand, and the corners of the diameter, where the Piazza slopes steeply down in front of the Palazzo, that occupies the lowest place, are padded with mattresses, to save from broken heads and limbs the riders, who are not unfrequently flung from their horses with great violence at this dangerous turning. The horses used for these races are the small, nervous, Sienese breed. They are ridden without saddles, and each of the jockeys is armed with a thick nei'bo^ with which, by the ancient rules of the race still in force, he is privileged, if he chose, to knock his com- panions from their horses, or in any way, by cutting them across the face, or beating back their horses, to overcome his opponents. * There were originally sixty contTadc, but they were reduced by the Plague of 1348 to forty-two, and under the Medici to twenty-three. In 1675, six were suppressed for bad conduct ; thus reducing the number to seventeen. 456 ROBA DI ROMA. To see the little horses and the small course, one would at first suppose these races to be mere child's play ; but there is often a violence of struggle which makes them anything but that. It is not at all uncommon for fierce fights to take place during the race between the riders, in the course of which one or more are beaten violently from their horses; and this, added to the difficulty of rounding the steep slopes and sharp angles of the Piazza, where the horses, going at full speed, sometimes lose their balance, and fling their jockeys headlong against the padded mattresses, make this sport more exciting and dangerous than would be at first imagined. The course is thrice round the Piazza, and as the race draws near the close the losing parties often attack each other violently, and use every means in their power to drag and beat back the winning horse ; so that the sport becomes at once a race and a fight. At five o'clock in the afternoon the Piazza is open to carriages, which then make their entrance in long procession. The nobility and gentry bring out their richest equipages, the state hammer- cloths are on the boxes, the horses are decorated with plumes and flowers, the coachmen and footmen are dressed in quaint old liveries of the ancient times, and each vies with his neighbour in the splendour of his equipments. Towards seven o'clock the course is cleared ; bands burst forth into music, making the whole place echo ; and the grand procession of the races enters. First come the seven representatives of the seven contrade which do not join in the race, and after them follow the ten coiiirade which are to contest the prize. Each co7itrada is preceded by a drummer, who beats like mad on his drum. Then follow two flag-bearers or alfieri,^ dressed in ancient costumes of rich colours, and bearing the flags of their contrade, which they wave backward and forward — now flinging them high in the air, and catching them as they fall ; now twisting them round their bodies ; now whirling them under their legs, and over and under their arms and round * The rank of alfiere was once held in high honour, and he was elected with great pomp and ceremony. After his election, the captain and co7isigli€?'i, ac- companied by crowds from the cotiirade, visited his house with trumpets and drums, and presented him his flag on a silver tray. FIELD-SPORTS— THE CARROCCfO AT SIENA. 457 their necks ; and executing with wonderful skill and grace all sorts of strange manoeuvres. Then follow four officers, each attended by two pages, and all in mediaeval costume. Then, accompanied by his groom, comes the running horse, gaily decorated with flowers, and his hoofs covered with gold leaf ; and after these, two mounted fanti, each with a helmet on his head, from which nod three tall plumes of the colour of his conirada, and clothed in a parti- coloured dress with the arms of the coni?'ada on his back. In this order, one after another of the contrade enter the Piazza ; and when they are all in, the effect is wonderfully picturesque. The drums are all beating together, and the bands are all playing at once, till the din is almost deafening ; while the crowd salute their contrada as it passes with loud cries. The air seems to be full of rich flags that are whirling everywhere. Splendid hangings float from all the windows, and show brilliantly against the soft greys and yellows of the houses and palaces. The amphitheatre is paved with faces. The grand machicolated tower of the Palazzo seems to lean over against the blue sky, and still, beyond, peers into the Piazza the black and w^hite striped campanile of the Duomo. And all this barbaric clash of music and pomp of cos- tume carries one back out of the present century into the middle ages. At last rolls in the great carroccio, drawn by six horses, with a tall pillar in the centre, surmounted by a bell, and from which wave the flags of the various contrade, while on its platform, in costume, stand pages, and the seven representatives of the contrade that do not run, and around it is a group of men that steady it with ropes as it slowly clatters along, covered with draperies and gaily gilded. In front of it, on the top of a pole, is the silver plate, which is the prize, tied about with black and white ribbons, these being the Sienese colours. This is perhaps the most peculiar feature of the festival. It is the relic of the old car or carroccio, invented by the Milanese in the middle ages to bear the flag in battle. The Italians then were in the habit of fighting desultorily ; and to re unite them and give solidity to their charges this carroccio was invented, which it was a point of honour to defend to the last. All the Italian cities adopted this custom ; and in war the carroccio 458 ROB A DI ROMA. always accompanied the army. It was dra-vvn by two oxen, covered with red and white housings ; and wherever it stopped was the place of battle. From its centre rose a tall mast, from which floated the white standard with a red cross, and at each corner was a man who steadied it with a rope against the wind and the jarring of its motion. On the summit was a bell to give the signal for attack and retreat, or to call to council. The direc- tion of this carroccio was allotted to the most expert in military tactics and the art of war, who became its captain ; and, to give him greater authority, he received by public donation his helmet and sword. In the period immediately succeeding Fede- rigo I., the podesta, who had also the supreme command of the " milizie^' commanded the cai'roccio. In Siena there was a special officer nominated for this duty, called " capitano del popolo,'' who was the head of the magistracy of twenty-four, and could not be a foreigner. His dress consisted of an under vest of red, over which was an ash-coloured tunic worked in scarlet and gold, a red velvet cap, red shoes and stockings trimmed with gold, and a red toga with a golden cord fastening it round his neck. The com- mander of the carroccio was accompanied by eight trumpeters, and a priest who said mass during the battle, and shrived the dying. The car itself was the prcetorium ; wherever it was posted were the head-quarters. Here signal for battle was given, and here was the refuge of those who were driven back or wounded, as the old rhyme says : — " E il carroccio nel campo un imago Delia patria, una casa paterna, — E un' concilio che i Duci governa, E un' asilo, una meta, un' altar." The carroccio originally used in these Sienese palii was taken from the Florentines in the famous battle of Monte Aperto, fought on the 4th of September, 1260 ; a battle, by the way, truly wonder- ful in its statistics, according to the Sienese. If we believe them, they numbered only iioo against 40,000 Florentines; and yet, with a loss of only 300 to 400, they killed 10,000 of their antago- nists. We know of nothing like this save the slaughter in India FIELD-SPORTS— THE CARROCCIO AT SIENA. 459 by the English troops, as related by the EngHsh journals. When at last the old carroccio would no longer hold together, a new one was made after the old model ; which is that at present in use, as I am told.* While we have been talking of the carroccio^ the procession has made the tour of the Piazza, and arrayed itself in front of the Palazzo Pubblico, glowing with many colours. The jockeys mount and make little runs, and then all together come to the starting-post, where a rope is stretched across. Let me now describe what took place at this race when I first saw it in 1857. As the horses appeared there was an unusual agitation in the crowd, for the " Tartaruga " horse, which wore black and yellow for its colours, had proved in the trial races the best horse. Whis- pers and mutterings were heard all round, men shrugged their shoulders and said meaningly, "Z^ Tartaruga non vt7icerd,''^ — the Tortoise shall not win, — ^^ davvero, non vincera — per Dio, nofi vincerar " Ma percht ? " I asked innocently — '' Why not ? " ^^ Eh / perchef" "Why indeed !" was the answer, with a sig- nificant shrug. " Don't you see his colours ? they are Austrian." " Well ; but the contrada ? " asked I. " What will they say ? Will they agree that he shall not win ? " "Whether they agree or not, the Tartaruga shall not win. First, because the colours are Austrian ; and then, because, per Dio, he shall not win. You do not know the jealousies of these contrade — the betting, the violence, the hatred — and it has been settled that the Tartaruga shall not win." "We shall see — Vedi-eirio^ As we spoke the horses came up to the rope, the canon pealed from the fountain, the rope dropped, and away the horses went. Three or four of them only passed the stand, for at once a struggle and confusion was seen among the riders. The Tartaruga jockey, despite his struggles, was dragged from his horse and forced out of the lists. The people swayed backwards and forwards, jumping up and shouting wildly in their excitement. Among the horses * See " Le Contrade di Siena, de Flaminio Rossi" MS., in the public library of Siena. 46o ROBA DI ROMA. that started there was the same struggle, the jockeys striking each other fiercely in the face and breast, grappling together, and be- labouring their adversaries' horses over the head to force them back. One of them was knocked clean off his horse, but he caught his antagonist's bridle and spoiled his race also. Only two now remained. These, as they passed the starting-post, on the second round, were fiercely assailed by the others. Some screamed, some threw themselves into the Hsts with wide extended arms to stop them. One horse was stopped, but the other broke through and continued the race amid the wild shouts of his contrade, and the still more violent screaming and hissing of the others. Some cried, '^ Stop, stop ! it is a false start ! " Some cried, " Go on," — and on he went. There was dire confusion. Two of the horses, maddened by the tumult, broke away and rushed through the excited crowd, which in turn became alarmed and began to scatter over the course. Meantime the first horse continued his race, got over the third round without being stopped, and came up to the goal. The cannon fired — the race was over — he had won. Then ensued the most exciting scene. A crowd of persons of his contrada rushed to the winner, tore him from his horse, em- braced him tumultuously, lifting him off his feet, and kissing him on both cheeks. The other jockeys and their contrade were equally fierce in their rage. They came along, now throwing their arms wildly in the air, now flinging their whips on the pavement, now seizing their own heads between their hands and literally tearing their hair, and breaking forth in mad vociferation. All over the Piazza the same scene was enacting. Here and there were disputant groups ; some, in their excitement, straddling wide and half-sitting down, with both hands violently gesticulating in the air. Such a scene of excitement without evil consequences I never beheld, and no one could doubt the extraordinary excita- bility of the people after beholding it. Everything, however, exploded in gestures and words. A mass of friends attended the winner to the post, where the prize, a silver dish surmounting a painted banner, was given, and he was borne away in triumph. FIELD-SPORTS— PALIO RACES. 461 After the races in July, the winning horse is escorted by his contrada to the church, where he is carried in for a benediction ; the people sometimes breaking through all bounds in their enthusiasm, and making the walls of the church ring with their cheers. On the subsequent day the winning horse is paraded through the streets with music ; then brought upstairs to the second story of the Palazzo Chigi, and exhibited from the balcony to crowds of spectators below in the Piazza, who roar their applause. These palio races were instituted in Siena in the year 1650. For fifty years previous to this period the races were run by buffaloes, ridden hyfanti ; that sport having taken the place of the old bull-fights in the year 1599. ^'' Perche i cosiumi cominciarono di ingentilirsi.'' This, however, did not seem to have pleased the people, and on the occasion of the arrival in Siena of His Most Serene Highness the Grand Duke Ferdinand II. and his Grand Duchess Vittoria della Rovere, with their eldest son. Prince Cosimo, the present horse-races were substituted, and have ever since maintained their popularity. The first took place on November 6th, 1650, when the number of horses that ran was twenty. In 1655, the day set apart for \X\q. palio was changed to the 2nd of July, and remained so ever since. In 17 19, the number of horses was restricted to ten by a civic decree, in con- sequence of an accident by which Osti Paci was killed. At the same time it was decreed that ^^ nerbi^' should be distributed by the police to the riders at the time of the race, in order to prevent the use of certain long, elastic whips {fruste lunghe elasiiche) which it had previously been the custom for the coni7-ade to provide, and by which the fanii could be easily knocked off from their horses and were in danger of their lives. On March 7th, 1721, all the rules of the palio now in force were laid down, and have never been altered excepting in the substitution of the nerbi. These palii^ therefore, are precisely the same that they were more than two hundred years ago. In 1655, Alexander VII. visited Siena, his native town, and on this occasion he was received with great pomp and feted for 462 ROBA JDI ROMA. twelve days. Among other amusements, there were palii of horses, and the marble wolf of the public fountain in the Piazza for several days poured forth from his mouth abundant streams of wine. The Piazza and city were also illuminated with torches, lanterns, and artificial fireworks ; and one hundred gentlemen paraded through the Piazza (as I learn from an old Sienese manu- script), making a splendid show of themselves — " rendendo vaga mostra di se^ Great cars also appeared on the Piazza in the evening. On one of these was represented the wolf and the river Ombrone, which held a flag with S. P. Q. S. on it ; while Justice, Prudence, Force, and Temperance sat before with a great shield. The other car represented the city of Rome, under the form of a matron, with a wolf and a child, who stood on a pedestal holding a standard ; while Religion was in front, with the Pontifical keys and the triple crown, and Peace, Charity, and Innocence at her side. The cars were accompanied by forty pages in white and red livery, carrying torches, and were moved along by men hidden beneath them. It is interesting to know that just for this occa- sion, and to gratify papal tastes, the bull-fights were revived, which had been abolished fifty years previously.* In nothing does the kindliness of the Romans show itself more than in their treatment of the dumb beasts who serve them. It is very rare to see in the streets of Rome those reckless and brutal exhibitions of violence and cruelty to animals that are but too often seen in England and America. The French system of vivi- section is here, thank God ! unknown. This people is passionate, but not cruel in its nature. The church, too, takes animals under its protection, and on the day dedicated to Sant' Antonio a cele- bration takes place which is most characteristic, and, to my mind, full of humanity and good feeling, and calculated to produce a good effect on the people. This is the annual blessing of animals which takes place on the 17th of January, when all the horses, mules, and donkeys in Rome are carried to the Church of Sant' Antonio (which was once a temple to Diana, — Quantum mutata ah illo) to receive a benediction. The doors are thrown wide ^ Relazione delle Feste nella Terza Parte del MS. P. Ugurg.— Sienese Library. FIELD-SPORTS— BLESSING OF ANIMALS. 463 open, and the church and altar arc splendid with candles, and the crowd pours in and out to see the pictures and make the sign of the cross. The priest stands at the door, and with a broom dipped in holy water sprinkles the animals, as they pass in pro- cession before him, and gives them his benediction. All the horses in Rome are there, from the common hack to the high-bred steed of the prince ; some adorned with glittering trappings, some covered with scarlet cloth and tinsel, with red roses at each ear, and tufts and plumes of gay feathers nodding at their heads. The donkeys come too, and often bray back their thanks to the priest. Some of the riders also are gaily dressed ; and those who are more superstitious, I mean reverent, receive beside the benediction a card with prayers and blessing, for which they pay according to their means. But see, there is a rustle in the crowd — who comes now? It is Gaetano, coachman of Prince Piombino, and prince of coachmen, mounted on an open car, and driving his magnificent team of fourteen horses with an easy skill which provokes the plaudits of the crowd. Up he comes, the people opening before him, and triumphantly receiving his benediction passes on gal- lantly and sweeps round into the great Piazza of Sta. Maria Maggiore, followed by the eyes of all. And here, too, are the great black horses of the cardinals, with their heavy trappings and scarlet crests, lumbering up with their luxuriant coaches all glit- tering with golden carving, to receive the blessing of Sant' Antonio. All honour to thee, good saint, who blessest in thy large charity not man alone, but that humbler race who do his work and bear his burdens, and murmur not under his tyrannical inflictions — that inarticulate race who suffer in patient silence " the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune ! " Thy effigy shall be hung upon my stable-walls, as it is in every stable in Rome. CHAPTER XVII. FOUNTAINS AND AQUEDUCTS. ** Nobil onda, Chiara figlia d' alto monte, Piu ch' e stretta e prigioniera, Piu gioconda Scherza in fonte, Piu leggiera Air aura va." — Metastasio. Rome is the city of fountains. Wherever one goes he hears the pleasant sound of lapsing water. In every square it piles its columns in the sunshine, toppling over with the weight of myriad pearls and diamonds, and plashing back into the carven basin. From year to year the splendid fountains of St. Peter's toss their white waving veil of spray into the sky, embroidered with prismatic gems, to cool the sultry air, and lull the senses with their rustling murmur. From the Janiculum the Fontana Paolina rolls its silver cascade with a roar into its granite basin. Over artificial rocks, at the feet of Neptune and his Tritons, rush the many streams of the Fontana Trevi, and gathering in a broad and flashing fall, slide into the little quivering lake below, that keeps the blue of the sky in its troubled bosom. Seated in the Barberini Square, on his travertine shell, and supported by dolphins, the picturesque Triton of Bernini blows from his conch into the sky a stream of pearls. From mossy grottoes, where giant river gods are watching in stone, burst forth beneath a lofty obelisk the many streams of the Piazza Navona ; and as if one fountain did not suffice for this great square, it is flanked at both ends by two others. In the Piazza di Spagna the lower waters gush out into a stone boat, and FOUNTAINS- GROUPS ABOUT THEM. 465 pour over its sides into a wide well. In oblong basins of Egyptian granite, that once were bathed in by the ancient Romans of the age of Caracalla, plash the fountains of the Farnese Piazza ; and on a circular basin of oriental granite from the Temple of Romulus, a massive column of water crumbles constantly in the sun beneath the colossal figures of Phidias and Praxiteles in the Quirinal. Everywhere there are fountains — on the heights of the Capitol, and in the valley of the Pantheon, that is overflowed yearly by the Tiber, when the mountain streams are swollen. Not only in the piazzas, where elaborate vases, figures, and obelisks surround and embellish the fountains, is the sound of water heard — at every corner it pours its single streams from gaping mouths. In the court of every house it plashes and gurgles, as it fills the simple stone wells. In every garden it spirts its fine thread into the air. Under-foot, below the surface of the pavement, it glides, to cool the earth. From old Egyptian lions' mouths it pours solemnly. Vast receptacles for washing, it fills with its constant streams — in the open air, where scores of Roman women stand all day, and shake and beat their linen in the sun — or under the dark shadows of palaces in gloomy cellars, where no ray of sunshine ever penetrates. Everywhere around these fountains are picturesque groups, who pause to chat while the stream fills their copper vases, before they bear them away on their heads. Here climb and scramble little boys, and sit astride the marble lions' backs, or lean over to drink from the gushing stream. Here the thirsty horses of the carretiieri stop and plunge their noses into the basins, jingling their bells as they toss their heads. Here peasants fill their dried gourds on their way out on to the Campagna. Here, in the summer, orange and lemon stands are placed, each with its little jet drawn from the fountain through a canjia, or slender tin canal ; and here the melon-seller erects his booth, swashing his boards constantly with water. As you walk the empty streets at midnight you hear the low bubbling sound of water everywhere. Shut your eyes near any one of the great squares, and especially in the neighbourhood of the Fontana Trevi, and you can scarcely believe that you are not 2 H 466 ROBA DI ROMA. far out in the country, where leaves whisper and torrents flow and tumble. In the morning the foreigner just arrived runs to the window, and opens the shutters, thinking that it is raining, but it is only the fountains, and the sun bursts in with a surprise. Go out upon the Campagna, and all along the road at intervals you will meet wells and fountains, where the horses and oxen are drinking, and where the carrettieri fill anew the wine-casks on which they have levied a way-tax. In the noble old villas at Frascati you will find extraordinary water-works. Great fountains tower shivering with sunshine into the air, and fall into vast basins surrounded by balustrades, where carven masks, half hidden by exquisite festoons of maidenhair, pour their slender silver tribute. Down lofty steps, green with moss, the water comes bounding and flashing like a living thing, to widen below into a pool, where glance silver and gold-fish. Through the green alleys, over which sombre ilexes twine their crooked branches, or down the vistas of clipped laurel hedges, you will see the silver lines of fountains sparkling against the green background. In ruined gardens the water dribbles over staggering leaden pipes into basins, on whose rim green lizards bask panting in the sun, and slowly drips into the mantling pool, greened over with decay. Come with me to the massive ruins of Caracalla's Baths — climb its lofty arches, and creep along the broken roofs of its perilous terraces. Golden gorses and wall-flowers blaze there in the sun, out of reach ; fig-trees, whose fi-uit no hand can pluck, root them- selves in its clefts ; pink sweet-peas, and every variety of creeping vetch, here bloom in perfection ; tall grasses wave their feathery plumes, out on dizzy and impracticable ledges, and nature seems to have delighted to twine this majestic ruin with its loveliest flowers. Sit here, where Shelley wrote the "Prometheus Un- bound,"* and look out over the wide-stretching Campagna. There * "This poem," says Shelley, in his preface to "Prometheus Unbound," ' ' was chiefly written upon the mountainous ruins of the Baths of Caracalla, among the flowery glades and thickets of odoriferous blossoming trees, which arc extended in ever-winding labyrinths upon its immense platforms and dizzy arches suspended in the air. The bright-blue sky of Rome, and the effect of FOUNTAINS— THE CLAUDIAN AQUEDUCT. 467 sleep in the sunshine the steep sides of Gennaro, with tender purple shadows nestling behind its cloven wedges. There, like a melody, rises from the long still level of the sea the varied and undulating line of Monte Albano, sweeping in exquisite curves to the crest of Monte Cavi. Far off a shining band flashes between the land and sky — there lies the Mediterranean. Below you, stretching off towards the mountains, amid broken towers, tombs and castled ruins, that everywhere strew its rolling surface, behold that long line of arches, with here and there great gaps opening between lofty, ivy-covered fragments that seem like portions of grand porticoes — that is the Claudian Aqueduct. It domineers over all other ruins that you see — stretching its arches out and out till, " fine by degrees and beautifully less," they run away into the mountains' bosom. There it lies, like the broken vertebrae of some giant plesiosaurus, a ruined relic of a mighty age and a distant time. From the "heart of the purple mountain," the shadow of trees and the song of birds, it drew its waters to supply the baths of the Romans in this very ruin on whose heights we stand ; and the sylvan stream that listened on the hill-tops to the nightingale, and was brushed by the wavering butterfly, here leaping at last to light from its dark and narrow prison, heard suddenly the clash of gladiators' swords and the murmur of a Roman populace. Look down there from your dizzy height. Sunken in the ground are monstrous, inform blocks, the fragments of the ceiling that roofed with mosaics these spacious halls. When these great pieces fell, Rome shook with their thunder, and the people said, " There is an earthquake ! " Of the giant columns of granite which once bore them up, nothing now remains save shattered fragments strewn upon the ground. But one of them still stands in the Piazza di Trinity at Florence, holding on its top the figure of Justice—" out of reach," as the Florentines say. The statues and precious marbles of antiquity are all gone, save a few broken bits and relics, kept in a fenced-in chamber below. The Farnese family and their successors, the Frati, swept the place ofevery- the vigorous awakening of spring in that divinest climate, and the new life with which it drenches the spirits, even to intoxication, were the inspiration of this drama." 468 ROBA DI ROMA. thing. Its ancient marble guests, the Flora, the Farnese Bull, the Hercules, and the Venus Callipyge, are now in the museum of Naples \ and in the Villa Borghese and the museum of San Gio- vanni in Laterano you may see portions of the mosaics of athletes which once adorned these floors. The sloping pavement of black and white mosaic crumbles away daily under the tooth of time, and the reckless destructiveness of travellers. Sheep and goats nibble under the shadow of the massive walls, that still stand firm as ever. Once in a while a spasmodic and idle effort is made at excavation, when a few old broken-down beggars are let in to make believe dig, at a few baiocchi a day. But, except at such times, nothing could be more peaceful, grand, and beautiful than these " mountainous ruins of the Baths of Caracalla." Let us reconstruct them as we stand here, and imagine them as they were in the days of their perfection. They were commenced by Caracalla in the year 212, continued by Heliogabalus, and finished by Alexander Severus. The baths themselves covered an oblong rectangular space of 720 feet in length by 375 feet in width; at both ends was a large hall with a semicircular tribune, all paved in the richest mosaic. These were devoted probably to gladiatorial exercises, to recitations of poets, and to lectures by philosophers and rhetoricians. Connecting them was an immense oblong apartment, called the pmacotheca^ or cella caldaria, where were the hot baths. On one side of these and on a lower level, was another chamber similar in shape, containing the cold baths, and called cella frigidaria. On the other side was a vast circular edifice, called the lacomcum, which was composed of a large central hall surrounded by chambers, and containing the vapour baths. The modern staircase by which we ascend to the platforms of the ruins occupies one of the pillars of the cella caldaria; so that, looking down over the side towards the city, we see the cella frigidaria^ and opposite, the long hall of the cella caldaria; while still beyond rise the giant towers and arches of the laconicuniy through whose open spaces gleams the western sky. The cella caldaria, which were surrounded by columns of granite, were probably the most magnificent of all the halls. Outside the central building was an open space, surrounded by BATHS OF CARACALLA AND DIOCLETIAN. 469 porticoes and gardens, and containing a gymnasium, stadium, arena, and theatre, where games, sports, plays, and races took place ; and beyond the porticoes on the westerly side was a great reservoir to supply the baths ; the water being brought to it by the Antonine Aqueduct, which was fed by the Claudian Aqueduct, and brought over the Arch of Drusus. The circuit of this magni- ficent inclosure is nearly a mile, and within its baths could be accommodated 1600 bathers at a time. But these were not the only public baths of Ancient Rome, not even the largest. The Baths of Diocletian, which according to Baronius were built by 40,000 Christians at the command of their great persecutor, covered an area of 150,000 square yards, and afforded baths to no less than 3200 persons, or double those of the Thermae of Caracalla. The remains of this magnificent structure are scattered over the Piazza di Termini ; some portions are built into the present railway station, some into granaries for the French troops, some embodied into the church of San Bernardo, and some into the Termini prisons. In its very centre stands the noble church of Sta. Maria degli Angeli, built by Michael Angelo, and shapen out of the cella caldaria. Here one still sees the massive columns of Egyptian granite in their old places, and from the vaulted roof still hang the metal rings on which the ancient lamps were hung. Behind, where once was the swimming bath, stretches the beautiful cloister of the convent of the Certosa; and there, wandering among its silent and peaceful arcades, or lingering round the central fountain over \yhich wave the grand cypresses planted by Michael Angelo, one may ponder the wonderful changes which have taken place on this spot. Now and then you may see a monk moving solemnly along, but he will not speak unless he passes another of his order, and then he will only say, " Fraiello, dohbiamo morire'' (Brother, we must die). To which a hollow answer will come, ^^ Fratello, morire dobbiamo.'''' So, breathing the orange blossoms, you may dream there over the past, and in its silence summon up the loud murmurs, the noisy games, the bloody sports that once it knew. Besides these, there were the Baths of Agrippa, to which some antiquaries have considered the Pantheon to be the hall of 470 ROBA DI ROMA. entrance ; the Baths of Constantine, which covered the summit of the Quirinal, and occupied the present site of the Consulta, the Palazzo RospigUosi, and the Villa Aldobrandini ; the Baths of Nero and Severus, which occupied a portion of the Piazza Navona, and extended thence nearly to the Pantheon ; and the Baths of Titus on the Esquiline. To these the people flocked in crowds. Here they lounged and bathed, looked upon the games, betted on the gladiators, struggled in the gymnasium, and listened to the recitations of poets and rhetoricians. The extraordinary number of thermce. shows how universal among the ancient Romans was the daily use of the bath. It was not confined to the rich classes, but extended to all, and was usually taken after exercise, and before the principal meal of the day, then coena, which in the time of Augustus was made at about three o'clock. Before these vast imperial thermce. were built, none of the Roman baths were free. The price of a bath was, how- ever, only a quadrant, which was the smallest coin in use, and this was paid to the bahieator or keeper of the establishment Children, however, below a certain age paid nothing. It was then the custom for those who wished to court the favour of the populace to throw open the baths to the public on certain days free of expense. But after the emperors built their ther??ice no charge was ever made, and every one who chose might have a bath. The bathing in the thermce was without individual privacy. Originally, men and women bathed in separate chambers ; but in the licentious days of the empire both sexes bathed indiscrimi- nately together. Later, this practice, which naturally led to the grossest immorality and indecency, was forbidden by Hadrian and afterwards by Marcus Aurelius ; but it none the less existed as late as the time of Alexander Severus, who prohibited, under severe penalties, any baths to be open in Rome for promiscuous use by both sexes. One has only to read Suetonius to acquaint one's self with certain shameless and disgustingly dissolute prac- tices of the emperors in their private baths, that almost surpass belief. Nothing, indeed, shows the low condition of public morals among the ancient Romans, and their open licentiousness, BATHS— MODERN CLEANLINESS. 471 more plainly than the manner in which their pubUc baths were conducted. The modern Romans are not the children of their ancestors in this matter of bathing. In proportion to the number of inhabi- tants, there is less accommodation for public bathing in Rome than in any other city I know. The common people are not a bathing people. " Dio ?nio,'' cried one of them to whom I recom- mended a bath, " What ? wash me from head to foot in cold water ! I shouldn't dare to do it ! I never did it in all my life. Avrei paura davvero^ Those Anglo-Saxons who take a cold bath every morning are looked upon here as little less than mad ; and even the physicians shake their heads and say, That may do in your country, but it won't do here ; and in this I am inclined to think they are right. Not that I mean to indicate that the Romans are, on the whole, a dirtier people than any other. By no means. The lower classes in no country are given to over-cleanliness, but in the middle and upper classes, their habits, I take from obser- vation, to be quite as cleanly as the average. They wash them- selves, but they do not take baths. They use the wash-bowl, but •the bathing-tub and the shower-bath frighten them. In the summer only do they indulge in the full luxury of water, and then they throng the shores of Civita Vecchia and crowd the esplanade of Leghorn to bathe. From morning to night the bathing- houses are besieged and the screams of bathers are to be heard. Oddly enough, however, it is a common custom for the whole family to take one bathing-house together and bathe all at once, without a notion of indelicacy. "All things are as they seem to all;" but I confess to certain old-fashioned notions — prejudices of education, perhaps, which I cannot overcome. Mastro Egidio, the Solomon of the Longaretta, is a serious per- sonage of great influence, and who has by no means a humble idea of his own importance. For forty years he was the Fontanaio of the Acqua Paolo at San Pietro in Montorio, and always wears the true Roman dress of his order — short-clothes with buckles on his shoes, a shirt without plaits, a blue sash round his waist, a beretta with a purple tassel on his head, and a double chain to his watch dangling from the fob. His memory runs back to the time 472 ROBA DI ROMA. of Plus VI., and at the election of Papa Gregorio XVI. he led the Trastevere squadrons to put down the seditious carbonari who agitated Rome. One day in those troublous times, seeing that the Pope was taking an airing in his carriage, Mastro Egidio sum- moned his band, and, going forth to meet him, presented himself at the carriage-door, and assured the holy Father that he had nothing to fear, for the Trastevere was with him. The holy Father, putting forth his fat fingers, amiably patted the great Egidio on the cheek, saying "The Trastevere is always faithful." " Holy Father," solemnly responded Egidio, " the spot where those holy fingers have touched me shall not be washed till Lent."* . Was not that a compliment ? But there are Mastri Egidii in other countries besides Rome. It is related that one of the gentlemen who received George IV. on his landing in Ireland preserved unwashed to the day of his death the hand which had been allowed to touch the palm of royalty. It is the usual belief entertained by the English that they are the only clean people in the world. The Americans agree to this statement, with one exception in favour of themselves. But ready as I am to concede that the higher classes in England and America are scrupulous in this respect, I cannot agree that this is a characteristic of the lower classes ; nor do I believe the middle classes, on the whole, are cleanlier in their habits there than in Italy. At all events, it must be admitted that the daily use of the bath is of comparatively late introduction into Anglo-Saxondom. Fifty years have made great differences in this respect. The ordinary notion of an Italian being a dirty fellow is derived, I suspect, in great measure, from the fact that he wears a beard, which till within the last few years was in England considered as proof positive of a dirty fellow. The same characteristic has been alleged by the English against every nation which wears a beard ; and it is not ten years ago that a gentleman, in whose well-being * Padre Bresciano tells this story in a paper published by him in the Civilta Catolica." FOUNTAINS—DR. JOHANNES' IDEAS. 473 I have an extraordinary interest, and of whose most private affairs I have an intimate knowledge, was told on a visit to London that, if he wished to go into society, he must shave off his beard, for that the prejudice against wearing a beard as being a dirty habit was so deep-rooted, that it could not be braved with impunity. With the Crimean war the custom of wearing the beard was introduced into England, and now the English not only wear the longest beards in Europe, but find them excellent and admirable. An Englishman, however, whether he be clean or not, looks clean. His fresh, rosy face and light blond hair give an imme- diate impression of cleanliness, that no Italian could possibly present, even were his epidermis scrubbed off by washing. But if any one, without prejudice, will take the trouble to walk through the Corso, or over the Pincio on any day when the people are out, and examine them one by one, I think he will be persuaded that their linen is scrupulously white, their dress nice, and their hands and necks perfectly clean, to an extent rarely met with elsewhere in the same class, and certainly not to be seen in England. As for the lower classes, I never saw any who could be called clean, unless exceptionally. No, my good republican friend, not even in America, where you say there are no lower classes ; and as for the lowest classes in England, nothing can exceed their filth and ragged wretchedness. Apropos of washing, the learned Dr. Johannes di Mediolano, of the Academy of Salerno, gives us some very important informa- tion on this head. Washing after eating, he says, in his Latin verses, confers upon us a double gift; it not only sharpens the eyesight, but also cleanses the hands, — a fact which could scarcely have been known at his time, or he would not have mentioned it so gravely : — " Lotio post mensam tibi confert munera bina, Mundificat pahnas^ et lumina reddit acuta." But I have somewhat strayed away from my subject. " Let us resume," as Byron says. There were formerly no less than fourteen aqueducts, some 474 ROBA DI ROMA. authors say twenty, which suppHed Rome with water. Of these, with the exception of four, the Aqua Virgo, the Aqua Claudia, the Aqua Alsietina, and of late the Aqua Marcia, only the ruined arches, that form so picturesque and peculiar a feature of the Campagna, now remain. Of all these ancient aqueducts, the Aqua Claudia and the Anio Novus were the most extensive and magnificent, and their ruins are the grandest of all that are seen about Rome. The Claudian Aqueduct was commenced by Caligula in the year 36 a.d. and finished by Claudius in 50 a.d. It cost, according to Pliny, no less a sum than 350 millions of sesteras. Its length was more than forty-six miles, and the source was near the thirty-eighth mile-stone on the Via Sublacensis. For ten miles it was carried above ground over those lofty arches, the remains of which, draped with ivy and blossoming with flowers, still stretch along the Campagna. Under its shadow sheep nibble, and between its sunny openings, or mounted on its broken ledges, herds of long-haired white goats crop the bushes and leaves that festoon it ; while near by, leaning on his staff, the idle shepherd dreams the long day away in his quaint and picturesque costume. Wherever you go these arches are visible ; and towards nightfall, glowing in the splendour of a Roman sunset, and printing their lengthening sun-looped shadows upon the illuminated slopes, they look as if the hand of Midas had touched them, and changed their massive blocks of cork-like travertine into crusty courses of matte gold. Yet, magnificent as are these remains of the Claudian Aqueduct, they are surpassed by those of the Anio Novus, the highest and longest of all the aqueducts of ancient Rome. In length it was about sixty miles, and for the space of fourteen miles it bore its waters above ground over lofty arches, some of which were 109 feet in height. As they neared the walls these two great aque- ducts, /(^r iiobile frat7'um^ joined together to pour their refreshing tribute into Rome, and their water-level was so high that it sup- plied the summit of the Capitoline Hill. But grand as is the effect of these colossal aqueducts upon the Campo Romano, still grander glimpses of them may be caught in the mountains. Hire a horse at Tivoli, and, taking a bridle-path AQUEDUCTS— IN THE MOUNTAINS. 475 through the quaint and picturesque oHve forests, ride on for seven miles into the heart of the country. You will find no lack of wild beauty all along the road to delight you. The forest itself is filled with aged olives, that twist their hollow mossy trunks into every sort of fantastic shape, and stretch out their grim and withered arms across the path, with a wizard-like resemblance to enchanted human forms. Here and there you will see the woodcutters or guardians of the forest, and come across the rude capanne in which they dwell, and once in a while will meet with wandering flocks of sheep or goats. But for the most part it is a solitary ride, so lonely and secluded that, if the shape of Pan should start from behind a tree, you would scarcely be surprised ; and the pipe you hear in the distance may well be his. At last you will come to a deep valley cloven down between two lofty hills. At its base babbles a torrent through tangled bushes and trees, and over it stride the gigantic arches of the Claudian Aqueduct The tall poplars which grow beside the stream are dwarfed to bushes as you look down on them, and from below, as you gaze up at the colossal aqueduct, it seems like the work of the Titans. All around Tivoli wherever you go are massive remains of these Roman works ; and at a mile beyond the town, in the direction of Subiaco, the road passes beneath one of the arches, the top of which is crowned by an old mediaeval tower. Most travellers who go to Tivoli content themselves with making the tour of the falls and cascatdle, visiting the villa of Maecenas, and the romantic villa D'Este, and luncheon in the Temple of Vesta ; but few ever see the grand old castle, and fewer still explore the adjacent country, so rich in picturesque ruins of the ancient time. Yet here an artist might fill his portfolio with new and characteristic sketches of great beauty, and the antiquarian might spend weeks of purest pleasure. In the ancient aqueducts the water was carried in channels of brick, or stone, lined with cement, and covered with an arched coping. Sometimes along the bottom of this channel were laid pipes of lead, terra-cotta, and even of leather for the water ; but generally it flowed in a stream through the trough of the channel. At intervals along the course of the aqueduct were constructed 476 ROBA DI ROMA. reservoirs, called pisdnce, in which any sediment might be depo- sited; and near the city was a vast reservoir, called castellum, which formed the head of the water, and served as a meter. From this the water was distributed into other smaller reservoirs, from which, again, the city was supplied by pipes. Why these aque- ducts were built above ground seems never to have been satisfac- torily answered; but as the fact that water was distributed in pipes through the city, and jetted in fountains, shows that the ancient Romans could not have been ignorant of the simple law that water will find its level, the giant arches would seem to have been constructed purely for architectural beauty. Of late years an aqueduct has been discovered leading under-ground across the valley of Alatri, which clearly proves that the ancient Romans did not build their over-ground aqueducts through ignorance. Of the Claudian Aqueduct, only a portion was used by Sixtus V. in building the present aqueduct, which is called, after the con- ventual name of its founder Fra Felice, the Aqua Felice. It is not even an established fact, however, that any portion of this aqueduct was used ; some writers declaring that only the remains of the Aqua Alexandrina were employed. These waters are drawn from a spot near the Osteria de' Pantani, on the road to Palestrina, and supply the loftier part of the city, from the Piazza de' Termini, where are the Baths of Diocletian, to the Piazza Barberini. They also feed twenty-seven fountains, among which the principal are the Fontana di Monte Cavallo, the Fontana de Termini, and the Tritone de' Barberini. The water is clear and pellucid, but heavy, and is not highly esteemed for drinking. The waters of one of the noblest of the ancient aqueducts, the Aqua Marcia, have been of late collected again, and brought to Rome, not through its lofty arches, which still tower in broken grandeur on the Campagna, but by the cheaper and less pictu- resque means of syphons and underground pipes. This aqueduct is said to have been originally projected by Ancus Marcius, afterwards reconstructed by Quintus Marcius Rex (from whom it received its name), united to the Aqua Virgo by Marcus Agrippa, and sub- sequently repaired by Vespasian, Titus, and Marcus Aurelius. MARCIAN AQUEDUCT— FOUNTAINS. 477 Marcus Agrippa, by his labours, greatly enlarged and enriched it, and in the account of his aedileship, it is stated that he created 700 wells, 500 fountains, and 130 reservoirs, many of them mag- nificently adorned. Upon these works he erected 300 statues of marble or bronze, and 400 marble columns. Truly, as Pliny says, it must have been a work which may be fairly said to be unsur- passed — even in those days of colossal and splendid works. The waters of the Aqua Marcia were drawn from the mountains near Sublaqueum, now Subiaco. Thence they were carried across the territor}^ of the Marsi, traversed the Lacus Fucinus, disappeared in certain caverns, reappeared in the vicinity of Tibur (Tivoli), and then took a direct course to Rome — being carried at last into the city over a lofty arched aqueduct nine miles in length. The water was of great repute among the ancients. Pliny calls it the most celebrated water in the world, and says, that by its coldness and salubrity, it gives the palm of all waters to Rome. The only one which was considered to rival it was the Aqua Virgo, which still pours through the fountain of Trevi, and has hitherto been held to be not only the purest water in Rome, but the purest with which any city in the world is supplied. It would seem, however, from what Pliny states in another passage, that the Marcian water is at least its equal — and that while the Aqua Virgo is cooler to the touch, the Marcian is cooler to the taste. One great advantage which it possesses over all the other waters in Rome is the great height of its level. The Aqua Virgo only feeds the lower parts of the city — and the Aqua Felice, though higher, cannot supply the houses on the hills — but the Aqua Marcia's level is as high as the upper rooms of the Quirinal Palace. Of all the fountains in Rome, the Triton, in the Piazza Barberini, is the most original, and, though barocco in style, the most harmonious in composition. On the other hand, the Fontana de Termini, with its basalt lions, is the ugliest and most ludicrous. Over it in a great niche stands a colossal figure, with outstretched hand, swaddled in oppressive draperies, which is intended to represent Moses ; but, in fact, the figure is that of a hideous dwarf, with a ferocious face covered by a massive beard, and with 478 ROBA DI ROMA. two great horns on its forehead. It is quite impossible to deter- mine whether this dwarf has no legs or no body — both it cannot have. You cannot help smiling as you look at this monstrous abortion, and yet there is a tragedy connected with it. As the story goes, it was the work of a young and ambitious sculptor, who boasted loudly that, if the commission to make this statue were given him, he would model a Moses which should, to use his phrase, beat that of Michael Angelo all to rags. The government, impressed by his enthusiasm, gave him the commission. He locked himself into his studio, shut out the world, and gave him- self up, body and soul, to his great work. At last it was com- pleted, and the doors were thrown open to the public. Such a roar of scornful laughter then saluted his ears, that the poor artist, driven mad by his disgrace, threw himself in despair into the Tiber, and was drowned. Nevertheless, the government com- pleted the statue, and there it stands in the Piazza de Termini, a warning to all ignorant and ambitious young sculptors. The ancient Aqua Alsietina was restored by Paul V., and now supplies the Trastevere quarter, under the name of the Acqua Paolo. It was originally built by Augustus to supply water for his naumachice, and it still subserves one of its old uses in turning the flour-mills on the slopes of the Janiculum, and feeds the massive Fontana Paolina and the exquisite fountains in the Piazza of St. Peter. But by far the most esteemed of all the waters of Rome are those of the ancient Aqua Virgo, which still retains its name of Acqua Virgine. The name of this aqueduct was derived from a tradition that its source was discovered by a young girl, who pointed it out to some soldiers who were perishing of thirst. It was restored by Nicholas V., and for purity, lightness, and absence of all sediment, its waters are unequalled by any in Rome or else- where. It enters the city on the Pincian Hill near the Porta Pinciana, spreads over all the central portions of the town, sup- plies the magnificent fountain of Trevi, the fountains in the Piazza di Spagna, the Piazza Farnese, and the Piazza Navona, and pours daily into Rome no less than 66,000 cubic metres of water. A Q UED UCTS—SALL USTIANA— VIRGIN E. 479 There is still another water, called the Acqua Sallustiana, which supplies a very small district in the neighbourhood of the Palazzo Barberini and the Porta Pinciana, and is highly esteemed. I shall not easily forget the solemn and majestic articulation of one of the padroni di casa in this vicinity, who, in recounting the various advantages of his house, always wound up with this climax : " E pot, abbiamo qua P Ac-qua Sal-lus-ti-a-?ia, /' ac-qua la pin buona cJic si trova a Ro-tna, P Ac-qua Sal-lus-ti-a-nar It was impossible not to be impressed with this solemnity, and the padrone was to a certain extent right ; the Ac-qua Sal-lus-ti-a-tia is an excellent water, but it does not compare with the Acqua di Trevi. Besides, the Acqua Virgine still subserves some of its ancient purposes, and though the days of the 7iaumachice are gone, yet .Rome cherishes the old traditions, and still exhibits vestiges of the ancient games. The grand and picturesque old Piazza Navona, once the Circus Agonalis of Alexander Severus, and now the vegetable market of Rome, offers in the month of August a spectacle which plainly recalls the old fontali. On Saturday evening all the benches and booths are removed, and the great drain which carries away the water spilled by the three fountains is closed. The basins then fill and pour over into the square till in a few hours it is transformed into a shallow shining lake, out of which, like islands, emerge the fountains with their obelisks and figures, and in whose clear mirror are reflected the cupola of Sta. Agnese and St. Giacomo, the ornate fagades of the Doria, Pamfili, and Braschi Palaces, and all the picturesque houses by which it is inclosed. From the surrounding streets crowds of carreitieri, vetturini, and grooms now pour into the Piazza, mounted on every kind of horse, mule, and donkey ; some riding double and even treble ; and all laughing and shouting at the top of their voices. Then, with the clang of trumpets, come galloping in the horses of the dragoons and artillery, accompanied by hundreds of little scamps with their trousers rolled up to the crotch, — and splash they all go into the water. The horses neigh, the donkeys bray, the people scream, the little boys are up to all sorts of mischief, pelting each other 48o ROB A DI ROMA. with rotten oranges, squeezed lemons, and green melon rinds, till the Piazza echoes with the riot of voices and the splashing of water. The next evening the sport is better. The populace crowd the outer rim of the Piazza, where numbers of booths are erected. The windows of the houses are thronged with gay faces, brilliant floating draperies, and waving handkerchiefs. Not only horses, mules, and donkeys are now driven into the artificial lake, but carriages welter nave-deep in the water, and spatter recklessly about ; whips crack madly on all sides like the going off of a thousand sharp India crackers ; and horses plunge and snort with excitement, sometimes overturning their carriages and giving the passengers an improvised bath. After the sun has gone down, lights are sprinkled about every- where, and curiously-decorated cars come forth bearing a motley bevy of Naiads, Tritons, and other watery personages, who play carnival tricks and blow hoarse conches. At one end of the Piazza towards the Apollinare, where the water is very shallow, sloping shelves are erected by the coconwari, where amid glittering little lamps are set forth in long rows tempting wedges of water- melons. Around these are benches for the customers, and in a stentorian voice they invite purchasers with cries of " Belli coco- me7'i ! aiiam^ an' am. Qui si magna, si beve, e si lava er griigtio.'^ " Beautiful water-melons ! come on, come on. Here you eat, and drink, and wash your chops with the beautiful water-melons." There is an illumination in every window, torches flare around the streets and flash in the water, the people dance, sing, and devour figs and water-melons, and the whole Piazza is a perfect saturnalia of noise and nonsense.* Every house in Rome has a great stone trough or pozzo, into which a stream of water is constantly pouring with a hollow gurgle. The method of drawing water from these troughs is peculiar. From the kitchen windows which look down into the courts a stout iron wire leads to a spot above the trough. Upon * This is all abolished now by a late edict. The Piazza Navona is in pro- cess of reformation ; it will be cleaner, but never so picturesque again. One after another all the old customs are dying out. FO UNTAINS— MODERN JULIETS. 48 1 this is suspended, by an iron ring and pulley, a tin or copper pail that is run down and drawn up upon this suspension bridge by a stout rope. All day long you will hear the rattling of this ap- paratus, as the stout donna di faccende souses the pail down into the fountain with a sudden slide, and then slowly drags it back dripping and creaking to her high window. Often there are little wooden balconies built out from the kitchen window, which opens to the floor, with a sloping roof of tiles to shed the rain, and in such cases they serve as the platform to which the water is drawn. They are generally very picturesque, with their pots of flowers, their brilliant carnations, their large terra-cotta vases, their spiring weeds that grow out of the eaves under the curved and moss- stained tiles, and the primitive shapes of the wooden railings. Here, by the half-hour together, the Roman women will lean and talk to each other across the court, and a charming picture they sometimes make, as they stand there in the sun, with a background of delicate grey walls stained by the hand of time with exquisite gradations of colour. There is in many of the courts a large stone basin below for the washing of clothes, and all day long you will hear the song and incessant chatter and laugh of the washers. When their clothes are thoroughly washed, they are brought upstairs, and swung out on long iron wires that stretch across the court, or from angle to angle of the houses. Each article is fixed to little rings, and a rope running through a ring at the opposite end enables them to be drawn out one after another over the court, where they hang and flap in the air until they are dry. On these little platforms and balconies sturdy Juliets of the kitchen carry on mysterious communications with Romeos of the stable or garden below, and when no eye is looking they let down a cord to draw up — not a bouquet of roses, but a good stout cabbage or cauliflower, which their lover ties to it. Here in the winter the old padrone, in his faded dressing-gown and velvet skull-cap, often shuffles out and seats himself in the sun, and mumbles to himself, as he warms " his five wits ; " and shall I not confess that here also I have often stood for an indefinite space of time, charmed by the varying and homely picture and watching 2 I 482 ROBA DI ROMA. the fun that goes on? Nothing can be more picturesque than these views from the back windows. Here a terrace with rows of flower-pots — there a quaint balcony broken . into exquisite Hght and shade — above, perhaps, a tall tower looking down into the court, or an arbour of grapes, dappling the grey floor or wall with quaint shadows ; and oftentimes a garden close by, with its little dripping fountain and its orange-trees, '' making a golden light in a green shade," while above is the deep delicate blue of the Roman sky, against which are cut out the crimped edges of tiled roofs. Screams of wild Campagna songs, with their monotonous drawl, pierce the air, as the self-forgetful donna di faccende remembers her Campagna home and rattles out on their wires her files of snowy clothes. Tidy American housekeepers will, I doubt not, differ from me. They will object that the place does not look clean, and that things have a careless and ruined look that they do not like. They would paint and whitewash it all over, for the demon that besets them is cleanliness. But, my good friends, we cannot have ever}'thing ; we must choose ; and when all is arranged according to your ideas, all that charms the eye of the artist is gone. Be- sides, what is dirt ? — it is only a good thing in a wrong place, as has been well said, — and I am afraid it will never be agreed be- tween us where the wrong place is. My friend Count Cignale is a painter — he has a wonderful eye for colour and an exquisite taste. He was making me a visit the other day, and in strolling about in the neighbourhood we were charmed with an old stone wall of as many colours as Joseph's coat — tender greys, dashed with creamy yellows and golden greens, and rich subdued reds, were mingled together in its plastered stone-work ; above towered a row of glowing oleanders covered with clusters of roseate blossoms. Nothing would do but that he must paint it, and so secure it at once for his portfolio ; for who knows, said he, that the owner will not take it into his head to whitewash it next week, and ruin it? So he painted it, and a beautiful picture it made. Within a week the owner made a call on us. He had seen Cignale painting his wall, with surprise, and deemed an apology necessary. " I am truly sorry," he said, " that AQUEDUCTS— SAVING AN OLD WALL. 483 the wall is left in such a condition. It ought to be painted all over with a uniform tint, and I will do it at once. I have long had this intention, and I will no longer omit to carry it into effect." "Let us beseech you," we both cried at once, ''^ caro conte mto, to do no such thing, for you will ruin your wall. What ! white- wash it over ! it is profanation, sacrilege, murder, and arson." He opened his eyes. " Ah ! I did not mean to whitewash it, but to wash it over with a pearl colour," he answered. *' Whatever you do to it you will spoil it. Pray let it alone. It is beautiful now." " Is it, indeed ? " he cried. " Well, I hadn't the least idea of that. But, if you say so, I will let it alone." And thus we saved a wall. CHAPTER XVIII. BIRTHS, BAPTISMS, MARRIAGES, AND BURIALS. In the purely Roman quarters of the city of Rome, where old customs still exist, and the influence of the stranger is little felt, may be frequently seen a large card hung against the window or at the entrance of the grocer's shop, on which are printed or scrawled in large letters the words, '"'' Bacili per le Fartorie?iti.^^ You natu- rally apply to your courier for an interpretation and an explanation of this sign. But a courier has generally the same surly unwilling- ness to give full information on any subject that a sea-captain has to tell you how the wind is and how many knots you are making ; and as your courier is no exception to the general rule, he con- temptuously shrugs his shoulders at your ignorance, and speaking in a language he calls English, but which has the same confused resemblance to it as the reverse of worsted-work with all the straggling ends to the finished pattern on the right side, he un- graciously growls out, ^^ Bacili per le partorie?iii — Dat is wash- bowl for vooman e?t couches.'' Now you are quite as much at sea as you were before, but you are afraid of your courier (all Ameri- cans are), and would rather rot in ignorance than be bullied, and as you know he will bully you if you ask another question, you make a note of the words with the intention of asking what they mean. Will you allow me to tell you ? They mean, literally, " bowls for lying-in women;" and that you may understand what these are, you must know, that it is an old custom, " of which the memory of man runneth not to the contrary," among the middle classes in Rome, as soon as a mother has given birth to a child, for the comare, who is the English cummer, gammer, or, in polite phrase, BIRTH AND BAPTISM. 485 god-mother, to present her with a large bacile or bowl, hcapcfl full of such articles of food as arc fitting for her during her confinement. The contents of the bacile are generally paste of all forms and patterns, such as jnaccaroni, vcrjnicdli., stelletit, anellettt, and capel- letti, which are built up into grotesque shapes — the favourite design being of a ship with maccaroni masts sailing in a sea of semolino, where imbedded eggs show, dolphin-like, their backs — delicate young chickens, not Mother Carey's, swim breast upward — and savoury herbs vegetate luxuriantly round the smooth rim of the bowl. This bacile, built so curiously, and looking for all the world like the bowl the wise men of Gotham went to sea in, is formally presented to the mother with a gracious ceremony of congratula- tion, and she lives upon its contents during the period of her lying-in. Before the birth of the child, and during the confinement of the mother, nothing is so much guarded against by all who surround her as odours. Visitors are enjoined to put aside every kind of perfume before entering her chamber. Flowers are strictly pro- hibited, and any husband who should dare to bring a cigar into the room would be looked upon as a mere brute. Though ordi- narily obtuse in the sense of smell, the Italians think that perfumes are poisons during the season of child-bearing ; and though they will keep the windows and doors closely shut until the air is foul with over-breathing, and leave the long wicks of their lamps to pour a poisonous smoke into the already stale atmosphere, yet at the same time, in order to guard against the evil effects of a chance perfume, they will cover the bed, and stick into the nostrils of the mother the leaves of the matricario, which is used as a sedative to prevent spasms and nervousness. Nor is this custom confined to the sick chamber of the parioriente. I have seen stout hearty women, when near their confinement, walking about the streets with two great sprigs of this plant (centaury) thrust into their nostrils, and presenting a most ludicrous appearance. Long before the birth of the child the comare and compare have been chosen amongst the most important acquaintances of the parents, and, the moment the happy result takes place, the hus- band hastens to inform them of it, and to make preparations for 486 ROB A DI ROMA. the ceremony of baptism, which usually is performed within forty- eight hours. In the mean time the " wise women" of the neigh- bourhood, who are thought to be skilled in divination, are admitted to the chamber of the mother, and then, afier examining carefully the infant, even ad unguem, they prophesy his fortune, and wish him all sorts of luck. The husband meanwhile makes all the arrangements for the baptism, which it is the ambition of every Roman should take place either at St. Peter's or at St. John Lateran's, and prepares presents for the levatrtce, the sacristan, the bell-ringer, the coachmen who are to drive the company to church, the chierico and the curato — for no ceremony of importance is ever performed in Rome without mancie to all the parties concerned. If the child be a girl the baptism is not much of an affair -, but if it be a boy great preparations are made. He is dressed in a gala dress, covered with an embroidered cloth, and carried in the arms of the comafe, who has on her holiday bodice and satin skirts, and all her jewels and rings, and her ^&dX jilograne pin stuck into her hair. The seat of honour in the first carriage is given to her and the child, and they are accompanied by the midwife and the nearest female relations. In the second carriage is the compare, with his brother or brother-in-law on his left. If you meet this convoy you may know at once the sex of the child by the colour of the ribbon pinned to its dress, which the comare takes special heed shall flutter out of the carriage window. A red ribbon indi- cates a boy, and a blue ribbon a girl — blue being the colour of the Virgin, to whom all female children are dedicated. Arrived at the church, the priest receives it near the font, ac- companied by a little boy who carries a candle, a box of salt, and a vase of oil. He mumbles an indistinct hum of Latin, looking carelessly round him the while ; rubs the oil behind the child's ears ; makes the sign of the cross on its forehead, mouth, and breast; thrusts his soiled finger covered with dirty salt into its mouth, till it spits, grimaces, and screams with disgust; then, lifting the stola from his own neck, he places it over that of the child, ladles out some holy water from the font and pours it over his head, and the ceremony is over. It is a superstition that the BAPTISM— THE FOOLISH FATHER. 487 child screams because the devil goes out of it, and the priest witli his dirty finger and nauseous salt is pretty sure to secure this good omen, and thus to content the soul of every true Catholic present. If it did not scream under such circumstances, " the devil must be in it." In case, however, the child be very ill and not expected to live, it is competent not only for the priest, but for any Catholic to baptize it — for the salvation of a human soul is not to be hazarded ; and priests do not always move rapidly ; and in such cases no time is to be lost. But there is this inconvenience, that being once baptized, the ceremony cannot be repeated. There is also another difficulty, in case the child be born of Jewish parents : for any pious Christian chambermaid or nurse may, in her affright at some spasm of the infant's, utter the words of baptism, and thus render it the duty of the Church at once to deprive the Jewish mother of her offspring, and forbid all intercourse between them, — a sad case, not so unfrequent as may be supposed, and of which the Mortara case furnishes a well-known example. When, however, the child is well, and the baptism is performed by the priest in church, the day is one of great pomp, ceremony, and rejoicing. The father on these occasions is not of much im- portance, and, to confess the truth, has the air of an interloper, who is present on false pretences. You see him standing about •on the outskirts of the group in a fatuous way, awkwardly twisting his hands, blushing, and breaking into little* spasmodic laughters when he is addressed, making sad efforts to appear quite at his ease, and venturing at times upon jests which, though well received by weak-minded persons of his own sex, are looked down upon scornfully by all the women. A truly pitiable figure he makes, and one cannot help wondering what under heavens he is doing " dans cette galere" Meanwhile, all the petticoats revolve like satellites around the little red baby in the centre, keeping up a constant chorus of " Quanf e bellino — oh Bimbo, Bimbino !'' stick- ing their fingers into its doughy cheeks, and examining its cap and ribbons, and coral, and fingers and nails, and wondering, and whispering, and whinnying round it. La Gampina, the nurse, is queenlike, lording it over all — radiant with pleasure and import- 488 ROBA DI ROMA, ance, frowning upon the husbands, chirruping to the baby, and patronizing the female gossips, who all feel in their secret bosoms a deep envy of her in these moments of her greatness. How rapid she is in her responses of " Credo " and " Amen," always keeping a little ahead of the priest to show that she is an old hand, and that the Latin is to her " familiar as her garter." How im- periously she orders about the compai-e and comare, who in her presence play only the subordinate parts. How grandly, sur- rounded by her satellites, she sweeps out of the church after the baptism is done, the black coats of the " poor male trash " scarcely daring to share her triumph, but following meekly, and in a me- lancholy way, after her, "bringing their tails behind them !" The crowd which has gathered round the font to see the ceremony from outside and inside the church gazes after her as she retires. Shaky old beggar-women, leaning on their crutches, send after the child their benediction, and then hobble away into the corners to talk it over among themselves, and prophesy and tell old stories, and croon away about it for hours. The other day I was at St. Peter's, on the eve of a canoniza- tion. The apse behind the baldacchino was covered with red draperies, and myriads of candles, tastefully arranged in forms of crosses, and hanging candelabra adorned the cornices, and were grouped about the hangings and pictures, on which the miracles of the new saint were represented. As we entered the church a little baptismal procession* was taking its way to the font, and we paused to assist at the ceremony. A group of spectators soon gathered in the chapel, and on inquiring the name of the little crea- ture, who, covered with red cloth, was now waiting to be ad- mitted into the fold of Christ, we learned that he was to be called Hercules, John the Baptist — thus rather oddly joining in his little self the pagan and Christian denominations. The ceremony was conducted with decency, though without impressiveness or solemnity, and I augured ill for Hercules when, on the salt being dropped into his mouth, he did not scream, but contented himself with screwing about his little toothless mouth into an expression of painful disgust. It was evident that he was to be a hero, and perhaps to take more from his pagan than his Christian namesake. BIRTHS— FESTIVAL AND RECEPTION. 489 The comare was a handsome girl of the pure Roman type, with an embroidered handkerchief on her head, and evidently new to the character. Vainly she endeavoured to follow the vigorous credos and aniens of the nurse, and turning round with a half-blush of pretty bashfulness, she smiled sweetly at the priest, shrugged her shoulders, and gave it up. As she and the compare stood upon the font, holding between them a lighted candle, and pledging them- selves to keep the flame, which had just been lighted, in the soul of the little Hercules, ever burning, with the priest facing them and the nurse and child before them, I thought I had rarely seen a prettier picture. The ceremony over, Hercules, John the Baptist, was conducted proudly out of the church, followed by some of the bystanders, and with the best wishes of all. The baptism over, the carriages, after making a long tour through the principal streets, return home, and then the friends sit down to a great supper or dinner, where all the varieties of the season are set out. There are great dishes heaped with golden fry, ^'■fi'itti rnisti^' among which are slices of cuttle-fish, liver, cauliflower, little fishes, brains, shreds of pumpkins, and arti- chokes, all mixed together — followed hy gelatine djadi cold jellied meats, and boiled beef with mushrooms, and a great turkey, and a dessert of ciainbelle, candied fmits, pinoccJiiati, and roasted chestnuts. The fare is uncommonly savoury, the red wine flows freely, bjHjidisi are given to the whole family, always in rhyme, and there is great jollity — amidst which, perhaps, at times the piping voice of the young Roman citizen, in whose honour the fcsta is made, may be heard from the adjoining chamber. As soon as the mother is well enough, she has a daily " recep- tion," and, propped up in her bed, with both her nostrils stuffed with some sweet-scented herb, she smilingly receives the com- pliments and good wishes of all her friends who come to con- gratulate her, each bringing a present for her or her young Roman. Here, again, the husband plays a very inferior role; and if he venture to open his mouth, his ignorance of all the matters relating to the treatment of infants is openly jeered by the other sex, and he is recommended to apply his talents to the care of the shop. 490 ROBA DI ROMA. The odour of tuberoses was formerly thought to be fatal to women ^^ en couches J' It is related that Mdlle. de la ValHere, while she was lady of honour to the queen, having found herself unfortunately in this situation, and dreading an exposure, kept her room under a pretence of indisposition. But the queen suspect- ing the real state of the case, and curious to discover if her suspi- cions were justified, sent word that she would pay her a visit. The offer was received with a great show of gratitude, and the queen found, on entering the chamber, that Mdlle. de la Valliere had filled it with tuberoses. For those who are too poor to bear the expense of lying-in, as well as for those who desire to conceal the fact, the hospital of S. Rocco offers a shelter and a hiding-place. This hospital was founded in the year of the jubilee in 1500, approved by Alexander VI., and confirmed by Pius IV. It stands near the Porta di Ripetta, has a large hall for the poor, and various chambers for those who can afford to pay and desire concealment, and is capable of supplying fifty beds. Each bed is separated from the rest by curtains and a screen. Any woman near her confinement who presents herself, whether married or unmarried, is at once received. Her name and condition are not asked, and she may also conceal her face if she desire, so as not to be recognised by any one. On the register of the hospital each inmate is dis- tinguished by a numeral instead of a name. Entrance is forbidden to all men and women to see the patient, v/hether they are parents, relations, or strangers, and no one is admitted save the physician, surgeon, midwife, and the women attendants. The hospital being exempt from all criminal and ecclesiastical jurisdic- tion, the women who enter it are secured from molestation of every kind ; and when they choose to leave it, provision is made to enable them to depart in the most secret way and at the most opportune time; the gate of the hospital not opening on any public street, but in a court which has two issues, one of which opens on an uninhabited lane which joins with other little frequented streets. Women who cannot allow their condition to be known without loss of character are received in S. Rocco a considerable time pre- BIRTH—SWADDLING OF CHILDREN. 491 vioiis to their confinement, and thus the honour of many families, says Morichini, is saved, and infanticide is avoided. Those who are not poor pay a small sum of about three scudi a month, which is increased if better care, attendance, and living than the ordinary affords be required. When they are near their confinement, how- ever, all pay ceases. Women of this class are called, like the others, '' depositatc,'' and do not divulge their name and condition in life. As soon as the children are born they are sent with all due pre- caution to the '' Pia Casa degli esposti in Santo Spirito^' those mothers who wish to receive them again placing on them a mark by which they may be recognized, and every one can at pleasure reclaim them from Santo Spirito at any lime by a proper identifi- cation. The average number of women who have here sought refuge between the years 1831 and 1840 is stated by Morichini to be 165 each year, which is very small in proportion to the population, compared with the number received in a similar manner in Paris, where from 2000 to 3000 are annually taken in. In ordinary cases the hospital maintains these inmates free of expense for eight days previous to their confinement and eight days subsequent ; but, if there be any special reasons, this time is enlarged. ]\Iany, however, only remain there two or three days, and some only a few hours. The medium period of their stay is from four to five days.* The infants in Rome are not clothed in the long loose dresses used in England and America, but are wrapped in swaddling- clothes, wound closely about them from neck to foot, so that they look like little white mummies. This is a custom which has come down from the ancient Romans ; and in an antique basso- riliei'o at Rome may be seen a nurse presenting to the mother her infant child, girdled in ''incunabula^' or swaddling-clothes, * The revenue of this hospital is 2490 sciidi a year, of which 690 are con- tributed by the public treasury. It is administered by confraternita, and presided over by a partial deputation. See Morichini, Instituti di Pubblica Carita, voL i. ch. 7. 492 . ROBA DI ROMA. precisely similar to those now in use, and having on its head the same close cap which is still worn. I hope my friends of the other sex will bear with me, when I confess that to my mind there are advantages as well as disadvantages in this method of dressing infants. Though the child is more restricted in the use of its legs when thus swaddled, yet this is in measure compensated by the fact that it is less liable to injuries of the spine from being held across the arm of a negligent nurse, is preserved from danger of rupture, and is supported equally at all points at a period when the organs and muscles are undeveloped and weak. Straight legs and a straight spine are certainly desirable ; though it is so charming to the nurse and the mother to force a "wee toddling thing " to stand on its bandy legs before they are equal to their burden, and though it does not look " so cunning " as it would in its long dresses, with its little bare arms and bare chest, it is really much less likely to catch cold, fever, and croup ; and, besides, a swaddled baby is much more out of the way of danger and disease. I have always found the infants themselves very well content in their swaddling bands, and my experience is that Roman infants do not certainly cry more, if even as much as ours. Among the poor families who cannot attend to their babes as the rich can, and who are all day at work, this custom of swad- dling is most convenient. The child is so well supported that it can be safely carried anyhow without breaking its back, or dis- torting its limbs — it may be laid down anywhere, and even be borne on the head in its little basket without danger of its wrig- gling out. But whether swaddled or not, the children, in spite of damp rooms, bad food, and little care, grow up into stalwart maids and men, develop early, ripen into beauty, and fall in love, like all the offspring of Adam and Eve. The cojitadini almost invariably marry young, and as soon as the youth and maid can rake and scrape enough money together to buy the trous- seau for the bride, and to purchase a few gold ornaments, they invoke the aid of the priest to help them into the holy bonds of matrimony. After the sposalizio, or betrothing, the promessi sposi go everywhere hand in hand together, and call each other MARRIAGE— BRIDAL CUSTOMS. 493 sposo and sposa, for it is a sort of half-marriage, and is celebrated as such by dancing, singing, and eating, in company with their friends. Among the peasantry the parents generally give half the dowry in money and half in clothes. All the former is spent in jewel- lery for the bride ; and, as it is never enough, the sposo adds to it all he can raise. He also buys the bed, and furnishes the chamber. The expense of the wedding is divided. The dowry is not so much measured by the means of the particular coniadim, as by the custom of the neighbourhood; and in order to come up to the standard much hard work and pinching is often necessary. For months the maid and her family are employing every spare hour in weaving cloth for the bride, and in the winter evenings the hand- loom, which is everywhere to be seen in the co7itadind' s house, is rattling and clattering, to make into home-spun linen the flaxen thread, which all summer long, at every interval of leisure, or while tending the cattle, they are spinning on their distaff. No co72tadina will marry until she has her jewels and ornaments, and upon them is generally expended every baiocco of solid money which she and her sposo have. They are young, and careless of the future. They are strong, and can live on the daily labour of their hands. The marriage is the great event of their life, and then, at least, for once, they will have their way and be happy, without consult- ing the cost. So all the money goes into the necklace of coral or golden beads, the long, dangling ear-rings, the wheatsheaf of gold which shakes from the dagger that holds up the shining braids of blue-black lustrous hair, and the broad rings that cover half her fingers. These ornaments are always of the purest gold, stamped with the government stamp, and, having a real solid value, are looked upon as a permanent investment. On holidays they are all put on, and when want comes, and hunger knocks at the door, they are pawned at the Monte di Pieth, (the government pawnbrokery establishment), for nearly their value, to be redeemed when better days come back. It would be thought a disgrace to be married without these ornaments, and no one is so poor as not to have them. At last the marriage takes place. But it must not be on 494 ROB A DI ROMA. Tuesday or Friday, for these days are most inauspicious, ac- cording to the old rhyme still repeated in Rome : " Ne di Venerdi ne di Marte Non si sposa, e non si parte." The bride is dressed in her new costume, and with her golden chains and earrings gleaming on her neck, and her sno^^y white iovaglia folded over her head, she goes with her sposo to hear mass, take the communion, and be married. The communion is always given before marriage ; and as this cannot be taken after eating, the marriage naturally takes place in the morning. The whole party then return to the house of the bride, and there is a great festa, and laughter and joking, and a dinner, where all sit down together ; and gifts are brought by the friends, who vie with each other in bringing the most expensive things they can afford to buy. Among the ancient Romans, when the bride was conducted to the bridegroom's house it was customary to shower sweetmeats upon them as emblems of plenty and prosperity, and then began the nuptial feast {ga/nos). This custom, " with a difference," still exists, though it is wearing out; but, instead of receiving the sweetmeats on her head, the bride now carries round to the assembled guests a tray covered with them, and each guest takes a sweetmeat with one hand, and with the other places a gift on the tray. Among the noble families this same usage obtains. Be- sides the sherbets and cakes and refreshments of every kind, which are carried round to the company, each friend is presented with an elegant box of bonbons, on one side of which are stamped the arms of the bride, and on the other the arms of the family. Even after the marriage has taken place, the mother, if she be over-scrupulous and bigoted, sometimes refuses to give up her daughter for a day, thinking in this way to approve herself to the Church, and bring good luck to the young couple. But this is rare. Ordinarily the bride accompanies her husband home, and there remains shut up, and seeing no one for two or three days — sometimes for a week. She then makes a formal entry into the world. Dressed in her betiothal costume, with all her rings on MARRIAGE— BRIDAL PROCESSIOiVS. 495 her. fingers, and accompanied by lier husband and an escort of friends and relations, she passes through the principal streets to show herself, and her gold ornaments and dress, and to re- ceive congratulations. The promenade over, all return to the house, and again there is a dinner or supper, and all sorts of gaiety. Rhymed toasts are given, and all unite in wishing for her male children as the best of luck. The marriage festival is then complete, and thereafter she bends her neck to the every-day yoke of hard work. A short time since, at Siena, I met one of these bridal proces- sions, on its way to the public promenade of the Lizza, to show themselves to their friends. It was Sunday, and there they knew that the world of Siena would be congregated, and they would be for, the time the " observed of all observers." The bride wore a broad Tuscan hat, under whose flapping brim glittered two long pendant earrings ; her hands were covered with golden rings, on some of her fingers reaching above the first joint, and a handsome necklace of pearls was on her sunburnt neck. She was a stout, healthy contadma, evidently married with an eye to work rather than beauty ; and as she strode along, looking smiling and happy, and veiling her face behind a large fan at each exquisite joke of her escort, she towered a full head in height above her little wiry husband. I hope for his sake that she is good-natured, for in case of a "difficulty" I would not give much for his chance. On the festa of the marriage it is the bride who is the centre of interest, the sposo is of little account. All the gifts are for her, except one, and that is a basket of eggs, which his friends send him on the occasion. If he happens to be an old man, they pay him still another compliment in the way of a " sere?iaia alia chia- vari,'' howling under his window madly, with an accompaniment of pots and pans. One of the little ballads sung about the streets of Rome gives an idea of the jollity of the marriage fcsta, and of the sorrows that come after. It is entitled, '' II petitimento del Giovajiotti dopo che hanrw preso inoglie'' — (The repentance of young men after they have taken a wife). ' The verses describing the joys of the day are as follows : — 496 ROBA DI ROMA. " Fu assai lieto il primo giorno Che stringeste la catena ; Nobil pranzo e nobil cena Cuoco esperto prepare. " Mille amici a voi d'intorno Rimiraste allegri in viso, E taluno all' improviso Dolci brindisi canto. " Poi SI mosse al ballo il piede . Per seguir I'antica usanza, E piu d' una contradanza Lietamente si ballo. " Otteneste inde in mercede Delle danze e degli fiaschi — Buona notte e figli maschi — E ciascuno se n' ando." Among the families of wealth and rank at Rome, the capitoli, or betrothal, is a much more important and festal ceremony than that of marriage. Marriage must always take place in the morning, but the betrothal is celebrated in the evening. Elaborate cards of invitation are issued, setting forth the titles and parentage of the parties to be betrothed, and all the friends and relations are prayed to be present and assist at the ceremony. The palace is flung open, splendidly lighted and decorated with flowers, and the guests wear their richest dresses and ornaments. When all are assembled, the marriage, contract and papers conferring the dowry and making the marriage settlements are read aloud by the notary, and formally signed by the parties and witnesses. Then comes the glad hum of congratulations, the bride and bridegroom are kissed by their friends, and all is gaiety and rejoicing. The marriage after this is more of a religious ceremony, often per- formed in travelling dress, and the bride' and bridegroom, after a morning reception of friends, go off in their carriages to journey. Not many years ago a curious incident occurred in one of the noblest palaces of Rome, at a betrothal where the bride repre- sented one of the eldest and most famous of the princely houses, and the bridegroom was the head of one of the wealthiest. The guests were all assembled and the contract was read. At the side MARRIAGE— A PRINCELY BETROTHAL. 497 of the bride, who there, in the perfect flower of her remarkable beauty, attracted the eyes of all, stood the figure of a poor, decrepit, imbecile man, in whose face you read the sad history of insanity degraded almost into idiocy. It was her father — the head of the house — the prince. By dint of cajolement and persuasion he had been induced to take part in the ceremony, his presence being absolutely required. There, gazing vacantly around him, he heard the words of the contract, though they conveyed to him no meaning. When, however, the reading was concluded, and he was conducted to the table to affix his signature, he stopped, and seeing that all eyes were fixed on him, a vague fear seemed to come across him that he was to be circumvented in some way, unintelligible to him ; and, to the painful surprise of all, he abso- lutely refused to sign the contract. Vainly they endeavoured to persuade him. Steadily, and with an imbecile obstinacy, he con- tinued to repeat his refusal. " What would induce you to sign it ? " at last cried one of the family, in despair. " I will tell you," whispered the old man, drawing him aside. " Give me a scudo, and I will sign it." Instantly a scudo was given him. He slipped it eagerly into his pocket, and then with a horrible smile of cunning went forward to the table and scrawled his name under the contract. " Grazie a Dio !^' said the whole company, and came forward to' congratulate and smile and compliment, while the old man crept into a corner of his magnificent halls, and turning his back on the company, took out his scudo to examine it, chuckling all the. while to himself. From life to death is but a step. Marriage finishes, sooner or later, with a funeral. Before the ver)^ altar where the ceremony of marriage is performed the coffin is hereafter to lie ; and returning with the bridal procession through the aisles of the church the eye will be caught by sad inscriptions of death on many a marble slab and monument. Imagine, then, that after accompanying the bride to the altar, we have lingered to look at the monuments, and to talk of ''worms, and graves, and epitaphs." 2 K 498 ROBA DI ROMA. Whenever death is imminent, the priest is at once called in to hear final confession, and give final absolution; and firom this moment it is his duty to stay with the dying man until he has drawn his last breath. The candles are lighted, the firiends leave the chamber, and priest and penitent are left alone together. After extreme unction has been given, the friends may return ; and in such case, as the soul passes away, it is accompanied by the prayers of all around to "San Giuseppe, Maria, Jesu," to inter- cede for it above. It often happens, however, that the friends never return, but leave the dying man in the hands of the priest, who sometimes, through ignorance and bigotry, scares away his last breath by terrible intimations of divine wrath ; and who, at best, can never supply the need of the kind and affectionate faces of friends in those last moments. After death the body is entirely abandoned to the priests, who take possession of it, watch over it, and prepare it for burial ; while the family, if they can find refuge anywhere else, abandon the house and remain away a week. During their absence the house is purgated ; the bed on which their friend or parent has died is burnt ; the chamber walls are rasped, and new papered or coloured, and oftentimes the whole furniture of the room is destroyed and replaced with new articles. This is specially the case where the death is by consumption, which is generally believed by the lower classes in Rome to be contagious. It is common for the friends of the bereaved family to offer them a villa, or house, for their retirement at such a season ; and when they return to their own house a dinner is also sent them on their arrival. But such is the horror the Italians have of death, that they do not willingly return to a place where one of the family has died; and in case the house is not their own, they will often throw up their lease to avoid the necessity of so doing. " Cosi ho fatto lo quando mort la mia 7?iadre^^ said my coachman the other night to me. " E cosi farei ancora. Dio mio ! no7i ci torneret, davvero — non, davveroT The body is not ordinarily allowed to remain in the house more than twelve hours, except on condition that it is sealed up in lead or zinc. At nightfall a sad procession of becc/mn and /rati m3.y DEATH -THE FUNERAL. 499 be seen coming down the street, and stopping before the house of the dead. The hccchini are taken from the lowest classes of the people, and hired to carry the corpse on the bier, and to accom- pany it to the church and cemetery. They are dressed in shabby black cappc, covering their head and face as well as their body, and having two large holes cut in front of the eyes to enable them to see. These cappe are girdled round the waist, and the dirty trousers and worn-out shoes are miserably manifest under the skirts of their dress — showing plainly that their duty is occasional. All the fraii and becchini, except the four who carry the bier, are furnished with wax candles, for no one is buried in Rome without a candle. You may know the rank of the person to be buried by the lateness of the hour and the number of \\i^frati. If it be the funeral of a person of wealth, or a noble, it takes place at a late hour, the procession oifrati is long, and the bier elegant. If it be a state-funeral, as of a prince, carriages accompany it in mourning, the coachmen and lackeys are bedizened in their richest liveries, and the state hammer-cloths are spread on the boxes, with the family arms embossed on them in gold. Sometimes, also, on very special occasions, a band. of music accompanies the procession. But if it be a pauper's funeral, there are only hccchini enough to carry the bier to the grave, and t\Nofrati, each with a little candle ; and the sunshine is yet in the streets when they come to take away the corpse. Ordinarily, if the person be of the middle class, the funeral takes place about an hour after Ave Maria. You will see this procession stop before the house where the corpse is lying. Some of the hccchini go upstairs, and some keep guard below. The neighbours look out of the windows of all the adjacent houses. Scores of shabby men and boys are gathered round th^frati; some attracted simply by curiosity, and some for the purpose of catching the wax, which gutters down from the candles as they are blown by the wind. The latter may be known by the great horns of paper they carry in their hands. While this crowd waits for the corpse, the /r^// light their candles, and talk, laugh, and take snuff together. Finally comes the body, borne down by four of the hccchini. It is in a common rough deal coffin, more like an ill-made packing-case than anything else. No care 500 ROBA DI ROMA. or expense has been laid out upon it to make it elegant, for it is only to be seen for a moment. Then it is slid upon the bier, and over it is drawn the black velvet pall with golden trimmings, on which a cross, death's-head, and bones are embroidered. Four of the becchini hoist it upon their shoulders, the frati break forth into their hoarse chant, and the procession sets out for the church. Little and big boys and shabby men follow along, holding up their paper horns against the sloping candles to catch the dripping wax. Every one takes off his hat, or makes the sign of the cross, or mutters a prayer as the body passes; and with a dull, sad, monotonous chant, the candles gleaming and flaring, and casting around them a yellow flickering glow, the funeral winds along through the narrow streets, and under the sombre palaces and buildings, where the shadows of night are deepening every moment. The spectacle seen from a distance, and especially when looked down upon from a window, is very effective ; but it loses much of its solemnity as you approach it ; for the frati are so vulgar, dirty, and stupid, and seem so utterly indifferent and heartless, as they mechanically croak out their psalms, that all other emotions yield to a feeling of disgust. Death is solemn and sacred to all but those who deal with it as a means of living. The grave-digger knocks over a skull without remorse, and cracks a joke upon it. They " have no feeling for their business ; " and so t\\Qf?'ate, whose profession it is to mourn for hire, feels nothing — the edge of his feeling is blunted by custom — 'tis " the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense." But while one cannot expect these hired mourners to feel any deep sense of sorrow, it would be but decent for them to "assume a grace if they have it not," instead of jesting and chattering, as they precede a corpse. The last funeral which I happened to see was in the street in which I live ; and as I passed along the becchini had just brought down the body and slid it on to the bier. . Two of t\\e frati, who had been talking together, did not perceive this, and were scarcely ready when the procession started ; however, they at once paused in their discourse at the signal to move, and one of them, with a deep bass voice, sang suddenly out, ^^ Miserere £>omine" then stopped short, turned his head aside, and stuffed into his bulbous. DEATH— AN INFANTS FUNERAL. 501 dirty nose a huge pinch of snuff, which in his earnestness of dis- course he had omitted previously to dispose of After this duty was performed, he resumed the argument with his friend, sotto voce, bursting now and then into a sudden strain of chanting. And this is the way in which the frati mourn for the dead in Rome. A singular illustration of the carelessness and indifference, begotten by custom, is to be found in an incident connected with the conspiracy of the Pazzi in Florence. The design of the con- spirators was to murder the two Medici in the cathedral, while they were engaged in performing their devotions. But it was difficult to induce any one to commit the crime there, on account of the sacredness of the place, and the natural repugnance to add sacrilege to murder. It was then suggested that a priest should be employed to decoy the princes into the church, and strike the first blow. And the reason given for the suggestion was, that his business and duty being in the church, and about the altar, the place had necessarily lost all special sacredness to him, and he would as quickly perform a crime there as elsewhere. The event proved the accuracy of this supposition. It was a priest who was employed by the conspirators, and who lent himself to the crime with utter indifference to the sanctity of the place. Sometimes, on the occasion of the sudden death of a child or maiden, dying in the flower of her youth and beauty, the body is exposed to view on the top of the bier, dressed in white, with a wreath about the head and flowers strewn around* it, and is thus borne along the streets. This, however, is rarer in Rome of late years than in Naples, where it is very common. One of the most touching spectacles of this kind that I ever saw was at S. Ger- mano, a little towTi situated near the frontier of the Roman and Neapolitan territory, amid the most charming scenery of valley and mountain. As I was passing through the gate of the town, early one summer morning, I saw the dead body of a little child lying in its basket-cradle on the low parapet, close by the entrance. It was dressed in white, precisely as if it were still living. A little cap of coloured ribbons was on its head, while around its neck, and over its little hands, which were clasped upon its breast in 502 ROBA DI ROMA. the attitude of prayer, were strings of large beads. It looked so simple, lovely, and infantine, as it lay there in the open square, that I could scarcely believe it to be dead, save that its hands and face were too waxen in their beauty for life. The early morning light fell upon its face, and the faint fresh breeze played with the ribbons on its cap and dress ; and there in its perfectness of peace it lay, while companies of country-folk, going by on their way to the market, paused, gazed on it respectfully, and, recom- mending it to the Madonna, passed on to the labour of life. It had been brought in from the Campagna, cradle and all, just as it lay, on the head of the peasant woman who sat beside it; and she was to bear it to its little grave, after it had lain in state, as it were, in the public square for all the people to see and bless. In Siena it is the duty of the unmarried peasants in each parish to carry on their heads the dead bodies of the Httle children and infants, and deposit them in the church. This office they perform by rotation, or agreement. The corpse is adorned with ribbons, and such little scraps of finery as the poor family can afford ; and as these become the perquisite of the contadina who has carried it to the church, there is no lack of readiness among them, to say the least, in offering their services. Around the body of the child is tied a long cord, which hangs out over the basket in which it lies \ and it is the superstition that every one who ties a knot in that cord will receive for each knot an intercession for her soul by the httle spirit* above. Every one, therefore, ties a knot, and sometimes it happens that one of them steals a march upon the others by tying such a number of knots for herself as not to leave a chance for all the rest. In such cases it is not uncommon for the bigoted cofttadina, who has thus cheated the others out of their rights, to receive as a compensation therefor hard words and a slap in the face. In Corsica also, says my friend L'Abbate, it is the custom to carry exposed on the bier, and crowned with flowers, the bodies of all young virgins. Ma qua?ido sono vecchie vh^gini, fid. The fact is, however, that " old virgins " are very rare in Italy — almost unknown, out of the convents : for every woman must either get DEATH— TARIFF OF A FUNERAL. 503 married or retire into a monastery and take the veil. " An old maid," in the English sense, is a rarissima avis, about as rare as the phcenix. The funeral procession we have left has in the mean time borne the body to the church. There it is laid on a catafalque adorned with large placards, stamped each with a large skull and cross- bones, and standing before an altar in one of the chapels. Candles are then lighted around the bier and on the altar, and a mass is performed for the soul of the dead. This over, the corpse is left alone in the church in charge of a priest, whose duty it is to watch over it — a duty " more honoured in the breach than the obser- vance." At midnight come the bccchini, strip off the velvet pall, and, placing the naked coffin on the general carretta, carry it off" with the rest to the Cemetery of San Lorenzo. While they are carrying it off, let us give a glance at the ex- penses required for an ordinary funeral in Rome. Every parish in Rome is furnished with a manual called " Statuta Cleri Romani," the greater portion of which is devoted to the enumeration of the taxes for the dead, and therein is pre- scribed minutely the kind of funeral required to be made by the family of the dead person, according to its rank and wealth. The different grades of persons are all classified, each with a distinct specification of the number of priests and fraii as well as of the candles, torches, and other items ; and unless all the requirements are punctually complied with, the family is cited before the tribunal '' Delia Vicaria" — '■'' pro funere non facto et pro supplemento''^ (Court Latin, Latina di Curia, as it is called in Rome ; corresponding to Chaucer's " French of Stratford atte Bowe ") — where the condem- nation is without appeal. The notary, before opening the inven- tory, is bound to summon the parroco to inform himself whether the funeral expenses have been paid ; if they have not, they con- stitute the first charge against the estate. Open the " Decisiones Sacrae Rotae," and you will find in every volume cases relating to funerals, under the titles of ^^ jus funerafidi, jus scpeliendi, jus tumulandi:'' When the person to be buried has no means to pay for the funeral, it is furnished without any charges ; but in ordinary cases 504 ROBA DI ROMA. there is a regular tariff of expenses, proportioned to the means of the person. One of these cases of a humble class I will cite, in order to give an idea of the cost of such a funeral, and will then explain the items. It is that of a person in the public employ, whose salary had been 30 scudi a month, who died in 1846, leaving a wife and seven children. The following is a copy of the list furnished by the J^arroco to the wife as the funeral which, under the circumstances, should be given : — Scudi. Baiocchi. Curato, Compagno, e Croce (Curate, Companion, and Cross) o 40 Emolumenti e Guida (Emoluments and Guide) . . . i 45 Preti No. 10 (10 Priests) 10 Frati No. 50 (50 Monks) 2 50 Cassa (Coffin) i 50 Portatori e Incassatura (Porters and Boxing up) . . = i 10 Emolumenti alia Reverenda Camera Apostolica (Charge of the Reverend Apostolic Chamber) .... i 50 Messa Cantata ed Uffizi (Mass and Offices) . . . . i 80 Preti per Uffizio (Priests for the Offices) .... 10 Guardia da Notte (Night Guardian) I o Alzatura (Carriage of Body) 30 20 Messe Basse (20 Small Masses) 60 Accompagnatura al Cimitero (Accompaniment to Cemetery) o 30 22 55 Cera (Wax). Lib. Oncie. Torcie de 2 libbre, No. 10, lib. 20 oncie (Torches) . .20 o Fiaccoletti ,, No. 12, ,, (Tapers) . . 24 o Altare Maggiore, No. 6, de lib. i (High Altar) . . 60 Guardia (Guard) ........ 10 Marretto (Large Candle) 16 12 Candele per Preti (Candles for Priests) ...30 50 ,, ,, Frati (Monks) 9 10 14 ,, ,, le Altari (Altars) 7 .12 ,, ,, I'Assoluzione (Absolution) . . . .30 75 4 This wax, at 32 haiocchi 2i pound, makes 24 scudi, which, added to the 22-55 ^cu-di, make in all 46-55. This, then, was the account furnished to a poor widow without a penny, as one of the most discreet in its requirements that could be made. DEATH— COST OF A FUNERAL. 505 Let me now explain some of these items. The first is the charge for the parroco or curate, with his companion. Now, in point of fact, neither of these personages ordinarily accompanies the funeral ; but, whether he attend or not, he must be paid 40 baiocchi for himself and his companion, or the vice-pa?'roco and chiericchetto who carries the cross in front of the procession. The second item for " emoluments and guide " is for the head becca-morio or vcspillone, who directs the funeral, and this fee is in place of the shoes and hat that formerly used to be given, five baiocchi being given for the bier. Next come the priests who accompany the funeral train. These receive ten baiocchi each, and the frati five baiocchi each, and be- sides a candle, which they do not light. The baiocchi of \h.Q frati go to the convent, the candle becomes their own. Next come the four masked porters in their black sack, who carry the body. These receive twenty baiocchi each, and thirty baiocchi additional are given to the bccchi7io who places the body in the coffin. The emoluments of the Reverenda Camera Apostolica are the tax levied by the government for permission to deposit the body in one of the wells or public tombs. The one hundred and eighty baiocchi for masses is solely for the parroco, the priests being paid an additional fee of one scudo. The night guardian is the priest whose duty it is to watch the body all night as it lies before the altar ; and the charge of three scudi for alzatiii'a goes to the becca-morto who places the bier on its catafalque in the church. Now for the wax. The torcie are candles with four wicks ; the jiaccoletti are large candles with one wick. The ten torches of two pounds, which form the first item, are lighted around the bier when it is carried from the house to the church; but no sooner have they arrived there than they are extinguished, and become the property of the parroco. Then twelve other Jiaccoletti are lighted and placed round the catafalque while mass is performed, for the illumination in the church must be greater than that in the street. These, as well as the candles on the high altar, also go 5o6 ROBA DI ROMA. to \h^ pan-oco, and he also receives, as his perquisite, tht 7narretto, a large candle containing a pound and a half of wax, which is never lighted. Finally, though there be only fifty frati, there must be fifty-five candles, because two of these go to the pad7'e guardiano and three to the sagrisiia. The pa7'roco^ therefore, receives as his portion of the funeral fees : — Iti Money. Scudi. Balocchi. For the Accompaniment ..... o 20 • For the Mass i 80 For the Guard I 00 And in Wax. Pounds. Torches and Fiaccoletti . . . -44 Candles on the High Altar, Guard, and Marretto I54 Less consumption . . 95 50 Which at 32 baiocchi the pound make . .16 00 Or in all 19 scudi. While we have been considering the expenses of burial in Rome, the becchiiii have carried the bodies from the church to the Cemetery of San Lorenzo beyond the walls. This cemetery, which is the only one in Rome, lies about a mile beyond the Porta San Lorenzo, close by the interesting and ancient basilica of the same name. It was founded by the French during the ravages of the cholera in the year 1831 ; there being, previous to that time, no decent cemetery for any person not wealthy enough to purchase a right of burial within the walls of a church or con- vent. You pass from the city through a long avenue of acacias and elms, between villa walls, to the curious old gate ; thence, following along the road, you have a beautiful view of the Cam- pagna and mountains ; and as if in contradiction to the hope and promise of this beauty, you see about half-way to the cemetery a little chapel, dedicated to the Madonna, over the portal of which DEATH— CEMETERY OF SAN LORENZO. 507 is a not very encouraging picture, painted on a blue ground, representing the Virgin and Child in glory above, and below tormented spirits in hell-fire with extended arms imploring as- sistance. Under this is inscribed, ''^ Salve Maria^ I'cgina coelz, mater itLisericordiiBr This Campo Santo was for many years a disgrace to Rome. It consisted of a large walled-in square, checkered over with" great wells or underground tombs of stone-work, which are shut each by a block of travertine. Every day it was the custom to open two of these, into one of which were indiscriminately emptied all the male bodies brought by the carrettone^ and into the other all the female bodies ; — the two sexes being scrupulously kept apart. Since the present Pope has occupied the chair of St. Peter's a new order of things has taken place. These well-like tombs are no longer the indiscriminate repository of all the bodies which are brought to the cemetery, but are reserved for the burial of re- spectable persons who are able to pay therefor, and thus the overcrowding of these receptacles is avoided, and the terrible orgy of their purgation is no more seen. In order to compensate for this, a large tract of land, adjacent to the cemetery, has been enclosed by a wall and made a portion of it, and it is here that those are buried who cannot afford to purchase a separate grave or tomb. A chapel has been lately erected, in which services may be performed over the dead, and where they may be temporarily deposited for a few hours before they are buried. At present the depository for receiving the bodies is a sort of cave or cellar holloAved out of the iufo^ on a ledge of land forming part of the cemetery. Many other improve- ments are also going on now, for the government at Rome is doing its best to remove the disgrace which attaches to a church that makes no decent provision for the burial of the dead. Truly, as one of the priests of San Lorenzo said to me while explaining the plan of the cemetery, " It is a shame for Rome not to have a holy cemetery" {im cimitero sacrosanto). They are now building around three sides of the square of the old wells a handsome arcade, under which is to be excavated a continuous row of tombs, which can be purchased by families of 5o8 ROBA DI ROMA. wealth, and adorned as they choose with monuments and slabs. On the open side is erected the new chapel fronting the entrance gate, and on higher ground, on the right of which the ascent is by a flight of steps, an open ground has been laid out and planted with trees, where private lots may be purchased and monuments erected. A few have already been placed there, and on one of them, built by the family of Paulsen Thorwaldsen, I was glad to see, lately, that a ^vreath of flowers had been laid by affectionate hands. It was the only instance of the kind I ever saw in this cemetery, for the Romans have a vague notion that it savours of superstition and idolatry to adorn the graves of the dead. How or why I do not understand ; but this was the reason given to me by a cultivated person to whom I was remarking that the utter indiff"erence shown by the Romans to the dead struck a stranger painfully, and that we could not understand why they never even threw a flower upon the grave.* The portion of the cemetery I have thus far described is for the burial of the rich, or, at least, for those who have the means to pay for their tombs ; the charges are not, however, high. Thirty pauls a metre is charged for the ground within the upper inclosure, and six metres afford sufficient space for a small monument. In front of the arcades are also lots for tombs, each of which costs twenty-four scudi, and with the monumental slab forty-five scudi. In addition to this expense, however, a tax of fifteen paids is levied by the Reverenda Camera Apostolica for permission to deposit a body in one of the public tombs. If, however, the burial be in a private tomb or grave, the charge is ten scudi. Times have changed since San Gregorio administered so severe a rebuke to the Bishop of Cagliari and Messina for demanding a price for the ground of burial. Ma che voletc ? San Gregorio is dead long ago, and you remember the Italian proverb : Un cane vivo e meglio di un dottore morto I Curiously enough, like everything else in Rome which is managed by the government, the right to build the tombs and * This was written some ten years ago ; and many improvements have since been made. DEATH— PROTESTANT CEMETERY. 509 lay the masonry in the cemetery is a monopoly farmed out by the government. Beyond these inclosures in the Campo Santo is the large tract of land devoted to the burial of the ignobile viilgus — the poor and lower classes who cannot afford to pay for the tomb or to purchase a lot of land. Those who have no means are buried free of expense, but those who have small means are charged 15 paiils for the privilege of burial. This is a wide desolate field, where every day is opened a trench to receive the bodies of the poor. The hccchinl bury them late at night, and deposit them in the great info cave, and early in the morning the coffins are placed side by side as close as they will lie in the long trench, and covered over with earth. A wooden stake, painted black, with its number on it, alone marks the spot ; and when this rots away, as it soon does, the spot where any one lies can only be determined by the register of the name and number. Over this large space not a slab, nor a tree, nor a flower,' ever can be seen. It is dreary, sad, desolate, and depressing. Vainly as you stand here you look out over the lovely Campagna, and see the tremulous hues of the afternoon painting the mountains, and hear the larks singing in the blue heights out of sight — a heavy pain lies upon the heart, the earth smells of mortality, and nature seems to sorrow over humanity. The voices of the labourers digging the long trench for their dead companions partake of the general gloom hanging over all, and gladness seems to have vanished from the earth. No greater contrast can be seen than that between this dreary, desolate, heartless place, and the exquisite Protestant cemetery under the shadow of the pyramid of Caius Cestius. Here tall cypresses nod in the breeze and point their shadowy finger over the grassy dial of death, whose hours are marked by tombs. Here love has planted many a flower and trained many a creeping plant — twilight lingers lovingly upon its slopes — birds sing in the waving branches — the old pyramid seems to watch over it sym- pathetically — lizards slip out of the crumbling towers and ancient ivy-mantled walls which rise over it, and violets, daisies, and roses here bloom all the winter long. Truly, as Shelley has said, " It 510 ROB A DI ROMA. might make one in love with death to think one should be buried in so sweet a place." A sort of sacred silence hovers over the spot. The peaceful blue sky above, the flowers and grass below, the soft air murmuring aloft in the swaying cypresses, all seem to sympathize with the pilgrim who comes here, to sorrow not as one without hope over the little space which holds what was dearest to him on earth, — to hang a wreath on the white marble over it, and with tender care to arrange the flowers and bushes, which send not forth so sweet an odour as did the little spirit whose empty shell lies in the earth below. Burial within the precincts of a church is now not only very difficult to obtain since the establishment of this cemetery, but is also very expensive. So large a sum is required, that only the rich can purchase this privilege, and such difficulties are in the way that only persons of influence can hope to overcome them. Converts, and especially English converts, may lay their bones within the walls of a church, for the marble memorial is a lure to other converts ; but, generally speaking, the world of the dead is transported to the cemetery of San Lorenzo. There are, however, some striking exceptions. Popes, cardinals, and all the dignitaries of the Church, are buried within its walls ; and so also all monks and nuns find burial-ground within the precincts of their own monastery or convent. In some of the principal basiliche there are also private chapels erected by some of the Popes for the use of the princely houses from which they sprang, which are still used as places of interment for the family. Of these, the two most remarkable are that belonging to the Cor- sini family in San Giovanni in Laterano, and that belonging to the Borghese family in Sta. Maria Maggiore. Nothing can exceed the costliness of the marbles with which these chapels are en- cased. The gilt ceilings, the lavish ornamentation, the gems, gold paintings, hasi rilievi, sculpture, columns of precious marbles, monumental statues, and sarcophagi which enrich them, though crowded together in the barocco style of the period when th^se chapels were built, produce a very imposing effect. In the Corsini Chapel, under the porphyry sarcophagus, which formerly stood in the portico of the Pantheon, lies the body of Clement XII. ; DEATH—STORY OF PRINCESS BORGHESE. 511 and between four fluted columns of jasper in the Borghcse Chapel is the miraculous painting of the Virgin and Child, pro- nounced by a ])apal bull to be the work of St. I^uke, and the same which was carried in procession by St. Gregory the Great to stay the plague that desolated Rome in the year 590. In the sepul- chral vaults below this last chapel are buried the bodies of the Borghese family. The last which was laid here was that of the celebrated Princess Guendoline Talbot Borghese, distinguished for her wide charities, loved for her many virtues, and remembered almost with veneration by all who ever knew her. Of this beautiful and accomplished woman, a remarkable story is privately told, which shows that her charities did not end with her life. One summer evening, when the dusky shadows were deepening in the church, an aged woman was observed to enter and prostrate herself in a dim corner near the Borghese Chapel. There, as if overcome by some great emotion, she hid her face, and prayed and wept. As she looked up from her prayer, she saw beside her a female figure clothed in black, who, looking at her with a sad and sympathizirig gaze, asked why she was weep- ing so bitterly? She answered that she was very poor and very wretched, that all her family were dead, and unless the Madonna took pity on her, she knew not what would become of her. Thereupon the figure in black said : " Be of good comfort, you shall be taken care of; silver and gold have I none, but such as I have I give unto you." As she said these words, she drew from her finger a ring with a large stone in it, gave it to the old woman, and disappeared. The next morning the poor creature carried the ring to a jeweller to sell it. The jeweller was struck with its peculiar appearance, and perceiving that the stone was a veiy large and valuable diamond, which he suspected must have come into her hands by some unfair means, assured her, in order to obtain time, that he could not trust his ow^n judgment as to its value and wished to consult some other jeweller before fixing the price he would pay for it. Meanwhile he advanced her a small sum on account, and told her to call again the next day. What was her surprise on returning to find some gendarmes in the shop, who at once arrested her on a charge of stealing, and carried her to 512 ROB A DI ROMA. prison. It seemed that one of the friends to whom the jeweller had shown the ring had recognized it as belonging to the Borghese family, and insisted that the prince should at once be informed of the facts. This was accordingly done, and the prince, on seeing it, is said to have been greatly overcome. On recovering, he declared that it was an old family ring, which he himself had placed on the finger of his wife in her coffin, and that it was buried with her in the chapel of Sta. Maggiore ; that it could have been stolen from the tomb was impossible, as the chapel is locked and guarded day and night ; and not only that the tomb could not have been rifled without its being at once known, but that even the chapel could not have been entered. The only solution that remained was, that the figure in black was the princess herself. Under these circumstances the old woman was at once released, and provided for by the prince. There is one other cemetery within the walls of the city which must not be passed over in silence, if only for its strange and somewhat revolting peculiarities, and this is the subterranean burial-place under the Church of the Capuchins. Any of the snuffy old monks who are ranging about the church will show it to you " for a consideration." You descend a dark staircase and find yourself in a long corridor, out of which open four grim chambers dedicated to the dead. High grated windows let in the light, and the odour is of the earth, earthy. This is the cemetery of the Capuchins, and the floor you stand upon is holy earth brought from Jerusalem. Underneath this each of the frati is deposited after his death, without a coffin, and dressed in his monkish robes ; the oldest inhabitant of the cemetery yielding up his place to the new comer. By this time the holy earth has done its work, and nothing remains of the oldest inhabitant who is thus called to resurrection but the skeleton, and the dried fibre which still clings to the bones and resist decay. This \vretched rem- nant of their dead brother the monks now robe in one of the dresses such as he wore in life, and he takes his place with others of his dead compeers, who are ranged in little alcoves along the walls, to grin with them a ghastly grin at all visitors, until he drops to pieces, or is removed to make way for another. Nothing can DEATH— CAPUCHIN CEMETERY. 513 be more frightful to behold than these dead figures ; some with their mouths agape, some peering horribly out, some with the remnants of their hair and beard still clinging to their mummied jaws and skulls, and all grinning fearfully. The architecture of the room is built up of fragments of the human skeleton. Row upon row are piled bare skulls, leaving alcoves between them for the terrible figures 1 have mentioned. Strange decorations are made of the thigh-bones, ribs, and ver- tebrae, which are arranged over the vaulted ceiling in arabesque figures. A candelabrum of vertebra, strung together, hangs shaking from the ceiling ; and pillars and capitals of bones give apparent support to the chambers. The monks who accompany you to this cemetery show it with considerable pride, and seem to enjoy the prospect of being buried here. They offer you snuff from a little dirty box, and beg you to observe that there is no odour from the bodies, although they are buried very superfi- cially. It is the property of the holy earth, they say, to prevent all odour from the dead. I only wish it could do as much for the living. As the shadows of night come on the effect is horrible. Every- where these indiscriminate skulls are mocking at you, and under their brown hoods the seated and standing figures gaze out of hollow eye-sockets, and almost seem to move. Above the arches is a long row of skulls, and as some visitor was lingering there after the shadows had begun to darken, fascinated by the horror of the place, and indulging in ugly thoughts about the grave, sud- denly he saw one of the skulls roll down from its shelf and move slowly across the floor towards him, clattering its jaws as it came staggering along. Horror-struck, he shrunk back involuntarily with a gesture of disgust and dread. ^^ Non abbia paura,'' — "Don't be afraid," said the consola- tory monk at his side, taking a huge pinch of snuff. " There's only a rat in the skull — that's all," and he put it back on the shelf If the traveller from Florence to Rome by the Perugia road stop at the little town of S. Giovanni, the birthplace of Masaccio, and enter the cathedral, he will see a most ghastly spectacle. It 2 L 514 ROB A DI ROMA. is the dried-up figure of a corpse, which, in making some repara- tions in the church, was discovered built up into the wall. Nothing is known of its history, but, from its appearance, the wretched victim would seem to have been thus walled-up alive, and to have perished slowly in the agonies of starvation. The skin, though shrunken away, still covers the entire skeleton, and the despair- ing look of the withered dead face, with its gasping mouth and glaring eyes turned upwards, as if to some aperture from which it hoped for rescue or drew in air, once seen, will not be easily forgotten. This was one of the methods of burial adopted by the great houses in the middle ages to relieve them of trouble- some persons, or to wreak a terrible revenge ; and those who are fond of chanting the praises of the past should see this miserable figure. When, a short time since, the Medici Chapel at Florence, which contains the tombs of the grand dukes, was undergoing repairs, and some changes were making, these tombs were opened, and the ducal corpses exposed to view. Some of these, which had lain in their coffins for hundreds of years, were, to the surprise of all, found perfectly fresh and undecayed, as if they had just died ; while others had fallen to dust. The only satis- factory theory to explain this phenomenon would seem to be, that •at one period grand dukes were helped to their last resting-place by poisons, which, pervading the bodies, had thus preserved them for centuries. The admirable institution of the Miser kordia, which is to be found throughout Tuscany, does not exist in Rome ; but several of the confraternities attend to the duty of buiying their own dead, and one of them, called the Arciconfrater?iita delta morte e deir orazione, assumes the duty of burying the bodies of all poor persons found dead on the Campagna or in the city. This con- fraternity was founded in 155 1 by a Sienese priest, Crescenzio Selva, and confirmed by Pius IV. in 1560. It first had its chapel in San Lorenzo in Damaso, from which it was transferred to S. Giovanni in Ayno, and now is stationed in the Strada Giulia. It is composed of most respectable persons, who wear a sacco of black coarse linen. Upon information being received that a dead DEATH— CONFRATERNITA BELLA MORTE. 515 body has been found on the Campagna, notice of the fact is at once given to a certain number of the brethren, who, without delay, meet at the oratory, where they assume the black sack, and set forth immediately in search of the corpse. Day or night, cold or heat, calm or storm, make no difference ; the moment the news is received they set out on their pious expedition. Nor is this duty always a light one, for sometimes they are obliged to journey in search of the body more than twenty miles ; and under the pontificate of Clement VIIL, when there was a great inundation of the Tiber, they reclaimed bodies which had been borne down by the current as far as Ostia and Fiumicino. They carry with them the bier upon which they place the body when it is found, and bring it back on their shoulders to the city. Besides this duty on the Campagna, they also, in common with certain other confraternities, bury the bodies of the dead found in the city whose families are without means. The messenger in- forms the brethren when their services are needed, and towards evening, dressed in their black sacks, their heads and faces covered, and with only two holes cut in the capiiccio to look through, they may be seen passing through the street, bearing the body on their bier to the church, preceded by a long narrow standard of black, on which are worked a cross, skull and bones, bearing torches and chanting the Miserere and other psalms. This arch-confraternity has the right to bury those which it recovers from the Campagna in whatever place it thinks proper ; and this generally takes place in the cemetery belonging to it, which is near the oratory. Here, in the Ottavario de Morti, a strange exhibition and ceremony take place. The subterranean tombs are all hung about with bones disposed architecturally, as in the cemetery of the Capuchins, with candelabra made of similar relics ; and at the end are placed figures of the size of life, with waxen faces and hands, cleverly modelled and coloured, and draped in appropriate robes, to represent some scriptural story. This same exhibition takes place in several other cemeteries, as in those of Santo Spirito, of the SSmo. Salvatore, Delia Consola- zione, and of Sta. Maria in Trastevere. To these places crowds 5i6 ROB A DI ROMA. of Romans flock during the eight days, and join in prayers for the dead.* After giving a description of this custom in Rome, Padre Bresciani thus bursts forth in a rapture of CathoHcism : "I do not deny, and I must say so, that Protestants have not, and can- not have, such great charity as this for their dead; for they do not beUeve in purgatory. * * * And can you pretend that any man, however pure and pious, does not remain soiled in his soul by the dust of human intercourse ; so that, before he can enter into the purity of heaven, he does not need a sweeping entirely to purify him?" ( Una spazzolata che tutto il rimondi). As you walk over the Campagna, here and there you will see a little rude black cross set up by the road-side, or in the open fields. This marks the spot where some sudden death has occurred ; where one has fallen by accident, or died in an apo- plexy, or been stabbed in a brawl ; and here you may generally be sure that the arch confraternity of death has performed its pious task. The ceremonies which take place on the death of a Pope are somewhat curious and deserve mention. As soon as he has breathed his last, the cardinal chancellor, dressed in his paonazzo robes, with the chierici of the reverend chamber, clothed in black without lace, enter the room, and cover the face of the dead Pope with a white handkerchief The cardinal, after making a brief prayer, rises, the face of the Pope is uncovered, and approaching the bed, he strikes three times with a silver hammer on the fore-, head of the corpse, calling him as many times by name to answer. As the corpse remains speechless, he turns to his companions, and formally announces that '■'' II papa e realme?ite ?norto" The Psalm £>e Pi'ofundis is then chanted, and the corpse is sprinkled with blessed water. The Monsignore Maestro di Ca?nera then consigns to the cardinal chancellor the fisherman's ring {a?ie.llo pescatorio\ and immediately the notary of the pontifical chambers reads an instrument setting forth the death of the Pope, and the transference of the ring. The cardinal, before leaving the * See Degli Instituti di Pubblica Carita, &c., in Roma. Di D. Carlo Luigi Marochini, vol. i. ch. 15. CEREMONIES ON DEATH OE POPES. 517 chcamber, also informs by writing the Roman senate of the death of the Pope, and orders the great bell of the Campidoglio to toll. When the boom of this deep sound is heard over Rome the world knows that the Pope is no more ; and as it tells its sad news, all the other bells in Rome take up the strain. The penitenzieri Vaticani now wash the body with warm per- fumed water ; and after twenty-four hours have passed the opera- tion of embalming takes place. This is done under the super- intendence of the surgeon of the Pope, and of one of the apostolic chamber, in presence of a physician of the same chamber, of the archiatro^ and of the speziale palaiino. The precordia are sepa- rately embalmed, and placed in a sealed vase to be carried to the Church of S. Vincenzo and S. Anastasio, in case the Pope die at the Quirinal ; and to the Basilica of St. Peter's, if he die at the Vatican. Sixtus V. was the first Pope who died in the Quirinal, on the 27th August, 1590; and \\\^ preco?'dia were the first to be placed in the Church of S. Anastasio. Before the time of Julius II. the bodies of the dead Popes were not opened and embalmed. It was then the usage first to wash the body with water and sweet herbs, and to shave the beard and head ; then all the apertures were closed up with cotton-wool saturated with myrrh, incense and aloes.* The body was then again washed in white wine, heated up with odorous herbs, the throat filled with aromatic spices, and the nostrils with musk. Finally, the face and hands were rubbed and anointed with balsam. The washing and embalming being over, the body is dressed in its usual robes of a white cassock, sash with golden tassels, sur- plice, bishop's gown, red papal cap and stole, and exposed to public view on a funeral couch, under a baldacchino covered with a red coverlet brocaded in gold, and stationed in one of the pontifical ante-chambers, generally in that where the consistory meet. Four wax candles are lighted around it, and there, guarded by the Swiss and the penite7izieri Vaticani, it remains until the third day after the death, when it is carried to the Sistine Chapel. The procession which bears it to this second resting-place is very * See Mabillon. Museo Italico, torn. ii. pp. 526, 527. 5i8 ROBA DI ROiMA. imposing. It is led off by six dragoons, two mace-bearers with torches, two battistrade, four trumpeters, and a company of dra- goons. Then follow two trumpeters of the guardia nobtle, with a cadet and four mounted guards, and then the company of Swiss guards and their captain, with the banner folded. After these follows a master of ceremonies, also mounted, preceding the litter with the corpse, on the head of which a cap is placed as it issues from the hall. The litter is borne by two white mules, surrounded by numerous palafi'enieri and sedtaft, with lighted torches of white wax, and followed by twelve penitentiaries of St. Peter's, clothed in white, with torches, who constantly recite prayers, and are accompanied on either side by the guardia nobile on foot, and two lines of Swiss. Then comes the commandant of the guardia nobile, with a portion of his guards on horseback, the chief officers, and the master of the pontifical stables. A train of artillery closes the funeral procession with seven pieces of cannon, and a company of carabineers with trumpeters. The corpse is then conveyed up the Scala Regia, where it is removed from the litter to a costly bier, on which it is carried into the Capella Sistina. Here it is undressed and in- vested with the full pontifical robes of red, with shoes, sandals, amitto, camise, cincture, girdle, cross, stole, fanone, under tunic, dalmatica, gloves, cape, mantle, mitre of silver plates, and ring. Red is the colour of mourning in the Greek Church, and this has been supposed to be the reason why the dead Pope is dressed in this colour ; but as the Latin Church prescribes paonazzo for this object, the custom, says Moroni, is rather to be considered as a memorial of the many Popes who have suffered martyrdom. Here prayers are recited until the following morning, when the sacred college of cardinals assemble, in violet robes and cappe, ac- companied by the chapter of the Vatican, and the pontifical choir, who chant the Subvenite Saudi Dei. The canon deacon of the chapter, in \)\?ick piviale, then gives absolution to the corpse with the usual genuflexions, and the body is placed on a bier and car- ried by eight chaplains through the Scala Regia into the Basilica of St. Peter's, surrounded by the noble and Swiss guard, the canons holding up the hem of the coverlet. The chapter itself CEREMONIES ON DEATH OE POPES. 519 precedes the train with h'ghted torches, and the cardinals follow reciting XhQ- Miserere and De Profiindis. When it has arrived in the centre of the great nave the fereiro is placed on a high bed, absolution is again given, and it is then transported into the chapel of the holy sacrament, where the cardinals leave it and return home. For three days the corpse, in its full pontificals, with a crucifix on its breast and two papal hats at its feet, is exposed with its feet reaching beyond the grating so that the faithful may kiss them ; and on the evening of the third day the burial takes place. The cardinals created by the deceased Pope then meet in the sacristy, dressed in violet, with the train-bearers in purple surplice and black cloak, the cardinal chancellor, and the prelate clerks of the chamber. The chapter of the basilica^ with the cardinal arch- priest (who is the sole cardinal who goes in the cappa), preceded by a cross on a staff, then ]3roceed to the chapel of the holy sacrament, with the choir singing the Miserere. The chaplains or almoners, assisted by the brethren of the holy sacrament, then place the body on a bier, and, accompanied by the noble and the Swiss guard, bear it to the chapel of the choir. In this chapel then come the cardinals, with the major-domo, the chief cham- berlain, the persons attached to the private chamber of the Pope in purple, and the pontifical masters of ceremonies in their rochets. The responsoriiim '-^ In paradisum'^ is then chanted, and the highest canon bishop of the basilica gives absolution and blessing, incenses the corpse and the cypress coffin with special prayers while the choir sings the antiphony ^^ Ingrediar,^' and the Psalm " Quemadvwdiini desiderata The body is then lifted into the coffin, the face is covered with a white veil by the cardinal nipote or some near relation, or, in default of them, by the maggior- domo; and the hands are likewise covered by the maestro di camera. Three velvet bags, worked in gold, are then placed in' the coffin, containing specimens of the gold, silver, and bronze coins struck by the Pope. The highest cardinal of his creation then covers the whole body with a red veil, and after placing beside it a tin tube, containing a parchment, on which all the acts of the Pope are registered,' the coffin-lid is screwed down, and sealed by 520 • ROBA DI ROMA, the chancellor, the notaries of the chapter and the apostolic palace, and the coffin is formally consigned by the -cardinals to •the chapter. This is then inclosed in another coffin of lead, bearing the pontifical arms, and properly inscribed and sealed ; and this second coffin is inclosed in a third of wood, also sealed with seven seals, and the ceremony is over. On the preceding evening the coffin, containing the body of his predecessor, is taken down from the niche near the chapel of the choir, and after being identified is carried into the " Grotte Vati- cane," or to its appointed place, and in the empty niche the new coffin is placed, there to remain until the death of the succeeding Pope. Formerly the ceremonies of the death of the Pope only occupied one day; but Gregory X,, in 1274, ordered that the obsequies should be celebrated for nine days, and on the tenth the conclave should meet to elect a new Pontifex. For nine days, therefore, the obsequies are performed in the chapel of the choir, unless an important festival intervene, in which case they are intermitted for the day, and the wax is given to the poor. During all these days there are a number of ceremonies too long to describe here ; the architrave of the great door, and that of the atrmm, is draped with black; a magnificent tumulo is placed in the choir of the canonid, which" remains until the sixth day, when a great and richly-ornamented catafalque is erected in the middle of the church. Twenty torches of white wax surround it, and other torches are lighted in all the chapels, and before the bronze statue of St. Peter. The catafalque and tumulo are guarded by the noble guard, in mourning. On the fourth day after the death commence what are called the novendialt, when masses are performed by the cardinal deacon and the cardinal bishops for nine consecutive days : and on the last day a funeral oration in Latin is delivered in praise of the dead Pope by a prelate chosen by the sacred college. This ends the ceremonies.* During tnis time a thousand impressions * The reader who wishes to know more fully all the ceremonies of these novendiali is referred to the Dizionario Storico Ecclesiastico di Gaetano Moroni, vol. viii. p. 194, vol. xxviii. p. 41. FUNERAL OF A PRINCE. 521 of the arms of the Pope, with death's heads and skeletons printed on black, are plastered over the walls of all the patriarchal basi- Itc/ie, and are not removed until the election of the new Pope. This same usage takes place also when any one of a distinguished rank or office dies, only the placards are confined to one church. The expenses attending the funeral of a Pope are very great, and Moroni states that the novetidiali of Pius VIII. cost about 20,000 scudi The funeral of a prince or mai'chese di baldaccJmio is also a pom- pous ceremonial. Two or three chambers in the house are hung with black, yellow, and gold, with fringes of gold-lace ; three or four altars are raised ; the office of the dead is said, and masses for the repose of his soul are performed during all the days that the body is exposed in the palace. At 21 o'clock (three hours before Ave Maria), twelve capuchins recite the office ; at 22 o'clock, twelve minori ^o the same; these are succeeded, at 23 o'clock, by twelve priests and \X\q. pari'oco. The body is dressed in the abito di ciita, with a sword at its side and a cap and plume on its head. It is then laid on the floor upon a rich coverlet, worked in gold, in one of the noblest halls, under a black pavilion ; and a gentle- man in black keeps guard over it day and night. It is then carried to the church, in a black funeral carriage, hung with black, and. drawn by two horses, with black trappings, the footmen and coachmen being dressed in the richest liveries, and the box covered with a splendid hammer-cloth, on which the arms of the deceased are blazoned in gold. A squadron of grena- diers precedes the convoy, then come two persons with torches, a servant with the insignia of the umbrella, other servants with lanterns, and the procession closes with a company of grenadiers. The family and friends all send their carriages, with the richest liveries, and accompanied by servants with torches. The body is borne in the carriage, and on one side sit the curate and the priest, and opposite the dilator e della croce. Arrived at the church, the body is placed on a bier, the clergy receive it at the door with lighted candles, the cross is raised on a spear, absolution is given by the superior of the church, and the body is then laid on the pavement in front of the altar upon a rich coverlet, with benches 522 ROBA DI ROMA. placed around it covered with black, and decorated with the arms of the deceased, and with death's heads and bones. Four bande- ruole of black taffets with the arms are placed on the ground near by. At the head and at the foot is one great lighted candle, on candelabra or silver columns, and all about are spread waxen torches, unlighted, and disposed in the shape of crosses. Benches covered with black are also placed on either side for those who are to perform the office, and for the persons of the ante-chamber who assist at the mass. This is generally celebrated by the supe- rior or by a bishop, after which absolution is given round the body, the servants standing by and holding candles. Then the body is placed in the coffin, on a mattress or cushion, and a tube of tin is put at its side, on which is an inscription of his name, titles, &c. The coffin is then sealed up, placed in another of lead, which is sealed hermetically, and again into a third of cypress, and deposited in the family tomb. Among the anecdotes relating to the death of some of the Popes, given by Moroni, two may not be without interest here. In the year 896, Stephanus VII. disinterred the body of the Pope For- mosus, who had then been dead forty-eight days, and dressing it in all the sacerdotal robes and ornaments, he placed it cere- moniously in the pontifical chair, and thus addressed it : " You Bishop of Porto, how, in your mad ambition, did you dare to usurp the universal Roman chair ? " As the corpse did not reply, he ordered it to be thrown into the Tiber, which was immediately done. But Theodorus II., who succeeded Stephanus on Feb. 12th, 898, caused the body of Formosus to be fished up, and restored it to its place in the Vatican Basilica. And Novaes, in his Life of Pope Formosus, relates, on the authority of various writers, that when the body entered the church all the images bowed to it. The fate of the Pope Innocent X., of the Pamfili family, was sad enough. After being in the agonies of death for nine days he expired, and his sister-in-law, the famous, or infamous Olimpia Maidalchini, savage to him as to her other lovers, rewarded his lavish generosity by refusing him even the boon of a coffin. So the body was carried coffinless to a chamber in the Vatican, used DEATH OF INNOCENT X. 523 by the bricklayers to store their materials in, and one of them, out of compassion, lighted a tallow candle and placed it at his head to keep away the rats. Finally, however, a prelate paid for having the body placed in a coffin and buried in the cheapest way. And this was the end of the Pope Innocent X., who built the noble villa Pamfili Dora and gave it to the ungrateful Olimpia. CHAPTER XIX. SUMMER IN THE CITY. The tide of strangers which pours into Rome in the autumn and overflows the streets, the hotels, and the lodging-houses during the winter, ebbs gradually away as the spring deepens into summer, and before the last days of June have come the city is empty, silent, and Roman. The sun bakes all day on the lava pavement, and they who are in the street at noon creep slowly along in the shadows, clinging closely to the walls. The shops are all shut for two hours, and the city goes to sleep. The plash of fountains sounds loud and cool in the squares ; a few carriages at intervals rattle along, but were it not for the burning sun and the dry air that beats up from the pavement, you might rather suppose it vras midnight than mid-day. This modern siesta at noon, w^hich is common throughout Italy, is of ancient origin. Varro calls it his " soinniis institius^' and declares that he "could not live" without it. Cicero, also, speaks of it under the name of '''' meridiationisr Augustus used to enjoy it ; and Pliny the younger says that during the summer his custom was to sleep at noon. Seneca, Theodoric, the Emperor Julian, and many others, have also admitted that they had the same habit, or, as Mrs. Malaprop would say, " own the soft im- peachment." It was at this time, or a little after the noon, that the ancients supposed the gods and genii to walk about the earth and show themselves to • man. " The Lord appeared unto Abraham in the plains of Mamre as he sat in the tent door in the heat of the day ; " and David, in the 91st Psalm, also speaks of "the destruction (or demon) that walketh at mid-day." Indeed it was generally SUMMER— NOONDA V AND TWILIGHT. D^D believed, as St. Jerome informs us, that certain demons, called luLeaT]iu(ipid^ov7e^ or vicridiani, then haunted the earth ; and the Hebrew root ^^ Keteb" (nt3p), which is translated "destruction" in the English version, signified, he says, one of the fiercest demons, who openly assailed mortals at noonday. Theocritus tells us that it is not proper for shepherds to play the pipe at noon, for Pan is then weary of the chase, is cross and in bad humour. Lucan declares that when ^'- Fhoebus in axe esT^ the priest himself trem- bles lest the gods should appear; and Ovid represents Actaeon as seen by Diana at mid-day. So, also, it was when Paul was " come nigh to Damascus about noon " that the great light shone about him, and he heard a voice saying, " Saul, Saul, why perse- cutest thou me ? " And at the same time the Hippocentaur ap- peared to Sant' Antonio, as St. Jerome tells us : " fnedia dies, coquenie desuper sole fervebatr However this may be, it is quite certain that in southern countries the noonday sun has the evil eye, and is apt to afflict those who walk too much in it with violent sun-strokes. And this, taken in connection with the belief that the gods visit us in dreams, may explain the superstition that the noon or early afternoon, when the ancients took their siesta, was the time when demons as well as gods haunted mortals. I am not aware that this superstition now exists in Italy, though the noon siesta is almost universal. The churches are then closed for two hours ; but whether, according to the old belief, recorded by Porphyrins among others, the gods then enter their temples, I cannot say — all I know is that the priests go out. But as twilight comes on the world again wakes up. Doors are opened, and their netted curtains wave to and fro in the light breeze which breathes through the cooling streets ; the shrill cries of vegetable-sellers pierce the ear ; carriages begin to clatter over the pavement and take up their procession through the Corso ; the sunset brazes with splendour the throbbing sky; great shadows fill up the streets, and the cool evening air draws in from the Campagna. Round every caffe seats are then set in the streets, where 526 ROBA DI ROMA. crowds gather to take sherbet and ices and coohng bibite, to smoke, to sip coffee, to whisper mysterious cabala of pohtics, and to read the newspapers, which in Rome are ominously published at twilight and not in the morning. There the habitues can see in the columns of the " Giornale di Roma" and the "Osservatore Romano " — called popularly " II Somarone " — what the Holy Father did yesterday, and what he will do to-day. There, too, they may read all his allocutions and apostolic letters of benedic- tion, and advice and reproofs in '^ issimi ;'' the American news, only three months old, from Venezuela and Brazil j the conver- sions of the heathen in Timbuctoo ; the comparative height of the barometer and thermometer in Paris, Turin, and Rome; the latest views of the " Armonia ; " the evil deeds of the Piedmon- tese everyAvhere ; the ceremonies of the churches ; the horrors of the "Revolution," which means all governments not essentially Roman Catholic and devoted to the church ; and lately, even the telegrams and the programmes of the theatres — all for the small sum of five baiocchi. This would not, perhaps, entirely content any other people in Europe; but pubHc morals demand that this " city of the soul " should not be tainted with the garbage of a free press ; and those revolutionary ideas which do so much harm to the world meet on the frontier of the Roman States an impas- sable barrier. The censorship in Rome is very severe, and few liberal books are permitted to pass the cordon. The arguments in favour of this cens.orship are very plain, but not very conclu- sive. The more compressed are the energies and desires of a people, the more danger of their bursting into revolution. There is no safety-valve to passions like the utterance of them; no better corrective to false notions than the free expression of them. Freedom of thought can never be suppressed ; and ideas too long pent in the bosom, when heated by some crisis of passion, will explode into licence and fury. Let me put a column from Milton into my own weak plaster ; the words are well known, but cannot be too well known : " Though all the winds of doctrine," he says, " were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously by licensing and prohibiting to mis- doubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple; who ever SUMMER— E VENING. 527 knew Truth put to the worst in a free and open encounter? Her confuting is the best and surest sujjpressing." But while we are reading tlie newspapers and discussing the censorship in the cajf):, others are sauntering outside the Porta Pia, to sit under the arbour of some osicria, and breathe the fresher air of the Campagna, and empty a flask of red wine ; others are thronging the cool circle of the Mausoleum of Augustus, where they smoke as they listen to the plays that are there performed in the open air; and others are strolling in the Pincio, or the gardens of the French Academy, now that the sun has gone, and sitting ou the benches under the shadows of the myrtles, acacias, ilexes, and elms, in the very gardens of Lucullus, where Messalina gave her voluptuous entertainments. As night comes on the Corso is crowded with promenaders, who stroll up and down laughing and talking. The moon rising over the city fills .the open squares with its radiance, and flashes upon many a musical fountain. The shadows of dark palaces are cut out sharply upon its soft field of light, and on either side the streets their high, irregular eaves are printed in black silhouettes against the luminous Italian sky. In the ostei'ias and caffes are heard the tw^anging of mandolines, the lisp of flutes, and the burr of guitars. Now and then comes along a serenading party, singing and playing as it goes \ or you will see a group dancing the saitefello, and surrounded by a circle of lookers-on. All the windows are open, and against the interior light of the room dark half figures lean out to watch the crowd below. In the chemists' shops, and gathered about the door, you see groups of physicians, sitting each with his gold or ivory headed cane, which he holds wisely to his chin or nose as if it contained, like that of Paracelsus, some familiar spirit which could whisper mysterious secrets. No physician in Rome is without his cane — it is his badge of office ; and held stifily up between his legs, as he sits in front of the chemist's shop, it has a very imposing effect. This medical habit of smelling the cane is of mediaeval pedigree, and is celebrated in a romantic ballad well known to us all : — " The doctor came ; he smelt his cane ; With face long as a Quaker : Quoth he, 'Young man, what is your pain?' Quoth I, ' 'Tis Betsy Baker ]'" 528 JiOBA DI ROMA. The object of the doctor in this case is not manifest. But in its origin this practice was founded on a very good and sufficient reason. The head of the cane was stuffed with aromatic herbs and spices, and the doctor held it to his nose to secure himself from evil consequences when visiting a patient with a contagious disease. But though the reason is gone, the cane holding no longer a perfume box, the usage of holding it to the nose still continues in Italy, as you may assure yourself by looking at any medical group in the chemists' shops. In the time of the great plague at Florence the physicians wore a sort of Capuchin hood over their heads, which extended down over the shoulders and completely covered the face. Before the eyes two great glasses were set into it, and over the mouth and nose projected a huge beak like that of a bird, which was stuffed with all sorts of savoury herbs. Imagine the effect of such a terrible figure coming into a sick room. No wonder many a nervous patient died — of the doctor, if not of the disease. Besides the promenading and dancing, the serenading and sip- ping bibite, there are other and more peculiar festivities which take place in Rome during the summer season. One of these is the Luna d' Agosto, as it is called, when crowds of Romans pour down into the Colosseum, at the full of the moon, in August. Rising from behind Monte Albano, it then shows its amber shield between Monte Porzio and Frascati ; and climbing the sky, pours its tender splendour full into the ruined shell of this grand old amphitheatre. Night then is more like a softened day ; only the planets and a few great stars are seen, — the "lesser people of the sky" hiding in the deep vast of blue air. The slopes of the Palatine are then thronged with people flocking to the Colosseum, and the crumbled walls and galleries resound with the confused hum of a murmurous crowd. No strangers' voices are then heard ; the air is stirred only by the soft bastard Latin of modern Rome, the laugh of girls, the echoes of song, the murmur of admiration, as the crowd move through the moon- lit arena and disappear under the shado^vy arches. Nothing is rude or violent, but calm and subdued, as if all were touched by the beauty of the scene. SUMMER— PIAZZA DEL POPOLO. 529 Another of these summer festivities is the game of gatta cieca, which is played at night in the Piazza del Popolo. This is one of the most imposing of all the piazzas of Rome, and seen by moon- light it is singularly impressive, as well from its beauty as from its associations and monuments. Above it rise abruptly the terraced slopes of the Pincio, lined with trees, and adorned with statues, trophies and columns covered with rostra. A row of Dacian cap- tives, with their hands crossed before them, stand on the marble balustrades, in Phrygian cap and tunic, and gaze sadly down into the square; on either side, beneath the statues of Rome and Neptune, a shining veil of water falls over semicircular basins with a soft murmur. There, dark and froAvning, rises the massive gate of Michael Angelo, which opens on to the ancient Via Flaminia ; and fronting it, at the opposite end, are the three main streets of Rome — the Babuino, the Ripetta, and the Corso, separated by the twin churches of Sta. Maria di Miracoli, and radiating like spokes from the central nave of the piazza. Over the pine-fringed boun- daries at the right towers in the distance the misty cupola of St. Peter's. Lofty palaces close in a portion of the area, and near the gate rise the dome and the quaint pyramidal tower of Sta. Maria del Popolo, rough with its scales of stone. On the site of this church, according to old tradition, were buried the ashes of Nero, and here long after his death flowers were scattered by un- known hands. But the phantoms of the dead could not rest in their sarcophagi, and nightly they came forth to haunt the spot and terrify the superstitious. Vainly they were exorcised, until finally the imperial ashes were taken from their last resting-place and strewn to the winds, and over them the church of Sta. Maria del Popolo was built by Paschal II., and the ghosts were laid for ever. In the centre of the piazza rises the ancient obelisk which once stood before the Temple of the Sun at Heliopolis, and at its base four Egyptian lions lie couc/iant, pouring from their mouths a stream of water that gurgles into the basin below. Under this lofty obelisk, carven with still sharp hieroglyphs, if the date given to it by some antiquarians be correct, Moses may once have walked ; and here in the moonlight its long shadow travels round the piazza, as if to mark upon its dial the silent and solemn passage of time. 2 M 530 ROBA JDI ROMA. When Rome was only a morass, it pointed with its silent finger to the intense Egyptian sky. Egypt and Greece, Republican and Imperial Rome, Isis, Osiris, Zeus, and Jupiter, have all passed away, since it was hewn from the quarry. Eighteen cycles of Christianity have vanished since Augustus brought it to the "centre of the world" — but unworn and untarnished, its edges and inscriptions fresh as in the distant days of Rhamses, here still it stands, to mock with its permanence the fleeting generations that have come and gone beneath its shadow. Sometimes, perhaps, it has a home-sickness for its ancient land, when the populace of modern Rome crowd around it to see the girandola fling up into the sky its burning sheaf of fire, for then the odour of garlic and onion ascends, and it may remember the days when the Egyptians offered these savoury vegetables as first- fruits upon the altars of their gods. Sometimes, too, when the sharp explosive tones of the Romans, playing at mor?'a, strike against its red granite^ it may have reminiscences of the glorious days of the Osirtasins, when, two thousand years before the Christian era, the same game was played beneath it by its builders. The " processions of the shrines " must give it a pang, too, sometimes, if any heart still beat within it. But, whatever the obelisk used to see in Egypt, it now looks down in summer evenings on the game of '^ gatia deca" ^ which the modern Romans play in its august presence. This game, as it is ordinarily played, consists in bandaging the eyes of one of the players, who, after being turned round two or three times, endeavours to go blindfold to an appointed goal, on which a prize is placed, and touch it with a stick given him to aid him in his progress and to enable him to avoid obstacles. The three whirls generally so confuse the notions of the blindfolded person as to his position, that he often makes the most amusing blunders as he goes groping along in a false direction, and ex- hibiting at times a self-confidence when he is wrong, and a timidity of purpose when he is right, that is exceedingly absurd. The Italians, who in many respects are children in a good sense, greatly enjoy this game ; and when the full moonlight floods the * Blind cat. SUMMER— GATTA CI EC A. 531 Piazza del Popolo in August, crowds flock there to join in the i)lay and to look on. The garzoni of the Monti, the Trastevere, the Oca, and the Borgo are there, with their sweethearts and their friends. The black-eyed little monelli are perched on the balus- trades of the Pincio, and on the backs of the lions under the obelisks, and the half of the piazza towards the gate is thronged with a gay crowd. The other half of the piazza is kept compara- tively clear ; for here the game is played. The players, under the supervision of a president and umpire, chosen by acclaim, are blindfolded under the obelisk ; and any one who likes may join. The money constituting the prize is levied on the spectators, and placed in the hands of the president ; and whoever walks from the obelisk into the Corso is the winner. At a signal the blindfolded players are all whirled round three times, and off they go. Each, confident in himself, sets bravely out at first, but scarcely has ten paces been made, when there are doubts and misgivings, hesitations and abrupt decisions, and, amid the jeers and loud laughter of the spectators, they all wander about in different directions. Loud and numerous bets are now screamed out, some in earnest and some in irony. The players, excited by these screams, and not knowing whether it is their friends who are endeavouring to encourage them in the path they have taken, or their adversaries \vho are making fun of them, exhibit a ludicrous vacillation of purpose or a strenuous obstinacy in the wrong which elicits new cries. " I bet ten pauh to one on Nino in the red cap," shouts one. " Taken," cries another ; and Nino, hearing the bets and assured that he is right, marches stedfastly on and butts his nose against that of the lion, two paces from where he set out, amidst the deri- sive howls of the people. " YwQjiaschi of Orvieto on Paoluccio," cries another ; and he is immediately trumped by a second, who cries, ^^ Yiwe. Jiaschi ? pci' Bacco, twenty flasks to a h^Xi-foglicfta on cara Paoluccio." And Paoluccio, who has already made half the distance straight towards the Corso, and really has the best chance of winning, stops when he hears these cries and debates with him- self, and then deciding that all this betting is ironical, makes a right angle and marches towards the Pincio. Louder cries and 532 ROBA DI ROMA. jeers now resound, and "Bravo, bravo, Paoluccio ! " He now loses his head entirely and turns to the right about ; but at his side he hears whispers, and doubting again, he determines to take the original direction again, and in so doing he makes a mistake and turns his back on the Corso, and wanders aimlessly down towards the gate. Lo Zoppo, meanwhile, who is rather irritable, has got into the middle of the piazza and marches for the Ripetta ; somebody cries in his ear, " A sinistra^' and another tickles his cheek with a straw ; at which he strikes out right and left with his fists and loses his road, and, determined to keep his own way, marches straight up to one of the fountains and tumbles heels over head into it. There are, however, all sorts of cheating, for the prize is gene- rally worth taking ; and oftentimes friends agree to give certain preconcerted signals to indicate to the player the true direction; on condition that he shares the money, or that they drink it all away in an osteria together. But the crowd is up to this, and whenever they hear a peculiar signal there are echoes of it repeated in all directions and at the wrong time ; so that the player, unless he is very sharp, has a more than even chance of being misled. The fun is very good-natured, and it not seldom occurs that various trials are made before the prize is won. At last, however, some lucky fellow hits the Corso, and the whole piazza shakes with cheers that announce to him his victory. Do not, I beg, my most serious friend, sneer at this childish game, nor come too sternly to the conclusion that a people which can be thus amused are not fit for liberty. The greatest loss any person or any people can sustain is that of their childhood. So long as the child survives in the man he is living, but when this is gone he is no better than a mummy-case. And when a people has lost its susceptibility to fun and its enjoyment of sport, even though it be childish, it has lost what no gravity can ever make up for. The world now overworks its brain and grows severe in its wisdom and feeble on its legs, and a morbid irritability of temper follows as a necessary consequence. When we scorn the body it revenges itself on the mind ; only a healthy, vigorous frame can hold a healthy, vigorous body. Mens sana in corpore sano. The SUMMER— SPORTS AND GAMES. 533 rights of the body need preaching in America more than elsewhere. We need recreation, healthy sport, foolish games, and athletic exercise. Be sure the man will think and act more justly, broadly, and efficiently, whose brain is not overworked at the expense of the body. These boat-races on the bay and river — this carnival of skating on the frozen ponds — are better than the office, count- ing-house, and furnace-heated rooms ; and it is with real joy that every well-constituted mind must see them growing up among us. I am, however, one of those who do not count strength by weight, nor will I yet agree that the slender and beautiful American girls have less native stamina than their rosier and stouter English cousins. If the English have more fulness and roundness of muscle, the Americans have more fibre and sinew ; and I will test the latter against the former any day, if they are only well-deve- loped. But the English have twice as good training ; they are braced by daily exercise and fresh air — the Americans are kiln- dried in over-heated rooms. Let us hear an end of this sermon, and improve it by bowling down ten strikes, cutting pigeons' wings on the ice, galloping over the country, and straining the cords by handling the oar — and then we exiles from home shall not have to greet on the Continent so many old broken-down men of twenty- five and thirty pursuing their lost health, and so many pale, fragile girls faded into premature parchment and racked with neuralgia and consumption. Whatever you think of it, I find the gaita cieca a capital thing, and believe the Romans all the better fitted for liberty and self-government by the enjoyment of it. A child-like man is far better than an old-manny boy. Were I a law-giver and law-maker, I would ordain the training of the people to sports and games as an obligatory part of educa- tion. I would declare that no man should be eligible to office who could not prove that he had enjoyed a hearty laugh at least once a day for two months previous to his election. Bad legisla- tion, cruel criticism, savage rejoinders in debate, and the frequent use of the bowie-knife, depend more on bad digestion than on any other cause. And bad digestion nine times out of ten arises from an overworked brain and an underworked body. Athletic sports make us better tempered, and keep the nerves in check. 534 ROBA DI ROMA. But too much brain work leads to irritable nerves, and then comes the fierce retort, the pistol, and all that wretched code of action which is called " Chivalry," in the South, but the true name of which is Barbarism. But, as I unfortunately am not the American Lycurgus, I have only to beg pardon for these aberrations, and come back to my Roman text. Everybody has seen the gh'andola on the Pincian, but few have seen the fochetti in the Mausoleum of Augustus ; for the latter take place only in the summer when Rome is the city of the Romans. The fochetti are artificial fireworks, elaborately composed to represent famous historical incidents. One of the principal subjects is the burning of Troy. When this is given, the portion of the amphitheatre where the prosceniu?n generally stands is built over with architectural frame-works representing the rock of Ilium, the temple of Minerva, and the palace of Priam, behind which are carried all sorts of fiery conductors. The moment these are fired the flame runs with a blaze and crackle over the whole architecture, bursting from column and architrave, roof, door, and window, showering its rain of fire, pealing its startling cannonades, and darting its rockets everywhere, until a wonder- fully coloured conflagration wraps the whole and glares against the sky. Then issue on all sides warriors dressed as Greeks, followed by the Trojan populace, represented after the usual manner of a populace on the stage by a few men and boys, who shout enough for a hundred, and make up to the ear their defects to the eye. The warriors carry torches in their hands and set fire to the houses, which send forth whirling Catherine-wheels, fling up incessant Roman candles, and blaze with Bengal lights of every hue. In the midst of the racket, roar and fizz of these fire- works, crack go the beams, and through the rolling clouds of smoke the columns of the temples and roofs are seen tumbling to the ground. After the temple of Minerva has perished in flame and smoke, the palace of Priam is fired. When this splits apart, showing the nuptial chamber and lofty hall blazing with fireworks, the spectators shout with delight, and thousands of hands clap- ping together mix with the constant explosion of mortars and SUMMER— FIRE WORKS— MOCCOLETTI. 535 the spasmodic sputter of dying Catherine-wheels, making noise enough almost to rouse the dead Caesars from their tombs below. Other favourite subjects are the burning of Saguntum, the con- flagration of Rome by Nero, and the destruction of the Capitol in the time of Vespasian. Of all these spectacles, that most enjoyed by the Romans is perhaps the last, for then are repre- sented the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, the Tabularia and the Tarpeian rock, which touches their pride and reminds them of their ancient glory. In artificial fireworks the Romans are eminently skilful, and at the fochetti as well as the girandola surprising effects are often produced. But no illumination can surpass for beauty the mocco- letti that end the Carnival. Thousands of litde waxen tapers then flutter about like living things, dancing along balconies and open windows, quivering up and down the entire length of the Corso, flickering from carriage to carriage, flying backwards and forwards at the ends of long canne, and pursued by flapping hand- kerchiefs that seek to extinguish them. A soft yellow light glows over the brown palace fagades, gleaming on the window panes, and illuminating below a sea of merry faces. Up the Corso, far as the eye can reach, the moccoletii sparkle like swarms of bril- liant fire-flies. The street resounds with a tumultuous cry of '' Ecco it moccolo — iiioccolo^' as the little tapers are brandished and shaken in the air, and the loud jeers of " Senza moccolo — senza moccolo^^ as dexterous hands and lips suddenly extinguish them. The scene is always gay, but the wild, glad exultation of the spec- tacle in 1848, when news of Italian victories came in from Lombardy, and the people, waving their moccolelti, poured into the Corso, cheering and singing their national songs, surpassed for en- thusiasm anything I ever saw. I have never seen it since without a painful memory of those happy days, when the faces of all were bright with triumphant, irrepressible joy — when all were brothers in a great common success, and bands met bands with enthu- siastic embraces and cries of Viva Italia ! This scene I can never forget, nor one other of a similar kind which I saw at Genoa in the autumn of 1847. The King Carlo 536 ROBA DI ROMA. Alberto had just granted those reforms which drew after them the early successes and the final sad defeats of that ill-fated struggle for independence. The people were full of hope ; and when the king first came from Turin to Genoa, after embracing the liberal cause, they went forth to meet him and escort him to their noble old city. Rose-leaves showering from the windows fell like snow- flakes on him and his suit as they rode to San Lorenzo in the morning to hear mass. In the evening he rode through the city with his sons and a few of his friends, the people following him in thousands, each carrying a torch. Windows were all open and illuminated, the balconies were thronged, and every crevice, from pavement to eaves, showed eager eyes. The torches flared and flashed upon the little group of horsemen round the king, and with a mighty chorus that shook the air, and resounded down the narrow lofty streets, ten thousand voices sang the national song — " Oh giovani ardenti d' Italico amore, Serbate il valore pel di di pugnar ; E viva Italia ! e viva Pio Nono ! E viva Italia ! e viva il Re ! " Another wondrous illumination, called the Luminara, is to be seen every third year at Pisa, on the day of St. Ranieri.* At this festival the whole city is illuminated. Go where you will, thou- sands of twinkling lights, arranged in every shape, gleam along the eaves, windows, doors, and walls. But the chief spectacle is along the Lungo L' Arno. On either side the whole length of this imposing promenade the buildings are cased in scaffoldings, re- presenting temples, rich Tuscan facades, Gothic churches, arcades, and, in a word, every imaginable architectural shape. The long garden walls are decorated by arabesque patterns, mixed with crosses, stars, and foliated devices. To these the effect of reality is given by thousands of little lamps, closely set together, so as to draw their outlines against the dark background with dotted lines of fire. Seen at a short distance, it is impossible to distinguish the true from the false. The rich old church of Sta. Maria della Spina, with its quaint spires ; the stern mediaeval tower guarding * 1 6th of June. SUMMER— LUMINARA AT PISA. 537 the upper bridge ; the facades of some of the noble palaces, whose marbles are yellowed with age and enriched by historical associa- tions, and some few other buildings, show their real faces. The Lungo L'Arno in itself, in ordinary daylight, with the yellow Arno flowing under the arches of curved bridges between the files of grand old palaces, churches, spires and towers, is very striking, but when flashing with the myriad lights of the luminara its effect is truly marvellous. As you look down upon it from the bridges, the city seems more like" an enchanted place than a real city of this earth. Barges with coloured lanterns and bright banners glide up and down the river, that, flashing back the splendid illumination, quivers and shakes, and shimmers with its golden glory. On the parapet at intervals are erected stagings where bands are sta- tioned, and brazen music sounds above the confused hum of the crowds that stream along the streets. Above is the deep- blue sky, with its still and steady stars waiting till this fleeting splendour is past; and wondrously deep and infinite it looks as we lift our eyes from the magical city below up to its serene peace. CHAPTER XX. THE GOOD OLD TIMES. The Past never wants for praisers and apologists. Every one ends by being a " Laudator temporis acti, me puero,^^ and all coun- tries as well as persons, in their old age, are prone to cherish ancient usages with pious love. It is hard to break down a church- window pictured over with saints, heroes, and demons, — even to let in a little more pure light and fresh air to a stifled people. My design in this trivial chapter is only to show, as in a magic lantern, one or two little slides on which are old Roman pictures. I have thus far endeavoured to show you a few sketches of Modern Life in Rome, and before we part let us give a glimpse, only a glimpse, into the Life of the Past. Among the relics of mediseval Rome' may still be seen some curious old truncated towers, which stand as landmarks of " auld lang syne," when every house was a fortress and society a system of rapine. In the middle ages every powerful family was the nucleus of a greater or smaller body of vassals and dependants, who gathered under its authority and aided in its defence. In- dividual liberty was unknown — law was according to the " Good old plan That he shall take who has the power, And he shall keep who can." Feudal authority begot feuds. Every important house then had its tower of defence, into which it retreated in the day of trouble, and from which it showered missiles on its assailants. Some of the great princely families took possession of the ancient tombs, villas, and temples, and there intrenched themselves. The Colos- seum was the battle-ground for many years of the Frangipani and GOOD OLD riMES—STRONGHOLDS. 539 Annibaldi, and the refuge of the Popes Alexander III. and Inno- cent II. Church and Empire, Guelph and GhibelHne, fought in these fortresses for dear life, and the people, nursed in blood, were turbulent, violent, and barbaric. The Mausoleum of Au- gustus was the fortress of the Colonna; the tomb of Cecilia Metella was one of the strongholds of Boniface VIII. ; near it are the ruins of the castle of the Caetani and Savelli. The Mau- soleum of Hadrian was made the stronghold of Honorius, and still remains at once a fortress and a prison. The arch of Janus was fortified by the Frangipani. Everywhere the ancient build- ings were converted into fortifications. The city itself then bristled with tall towers, and of these two still remain — the Tor de' Conti, a huge brick tower at the foot of the Quirinal, erected by Nicholas I. in 858, and rebuilt by Innocent III. in 1 2 16, from whose family it takes its name; and the Torre delle Milizie, at the head of the Via Magnanapoli. All the others have perished. In the Tuscan cities, however, many of these towers may be seen, though for the most part they have been shorn of their lofty proportions, and cut down to a level with the surrounding houses. In the little town of San Geminiano, however, there are standing no less than fourteen, all of their original height, and a strange picturesque character they give to the place. If any one would form a notion of the mediaeval appearance of an Italian town he should visit San Geminiano. It is but a few miles off the main road, contains some beautiful frescoes by Ghirlandaio, and closely resembles in itself the quaint old cities painted by the early Tuscan masters in their backgrounds. The Tor de' Specchi at Rome is a curious representative of the days of the old barons. Here dwelt Santa Francesca Romana, the founder of the order of the Oblate nuns, and the house is scarcely, changed from what it was in her time. Here is a cell in which she lived, with the very pavement on which she trod, the narrow gothic windows through which she looked, the old worm-eaten benches she sat upon, all carefully kept in their original condition. On the walls is painted the history of her life by one of the scholars of Giotto, where one may see the 540 ROBA DI ROMA, dresses of the 14th century in the foreground, and in the back- ground views of mediaeval Rome, with its turreted houses and castellated palaces in which the Roman barons intrenched themselves. Here you may catch a glimpse of the old times, and turning round may compare it with modern Rome, which lies before you. What a strange jumble it was of war and prayer, humility and licence, luxury and barbarism ! In those days the cardinals lived in fortresses, guarding their doors with pikes, bar- ring their windows with heavy iron gratings, and keeping in their employ large bodies of soldiers.* The Pope was the mere foot- ball of different parties — sharing their luck in battle — now fleeing for refuge, now returning to the chair of St. Peter, his feet red with conquest. The streets were filled with soldiers belonging to different houses, jealous of the rank of their masters, involved in endless fights, and employed to carry out the base designs of their irresponsible lords. There was but one law — the sword. Throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the palace of every cardinal was a little court. Guards of soldiers, mounted and on foot, surrounded it ; in the stables were great numbers of horses, and the family of servants of every grade was a little army. It is related that Cardinal Ippolito D'Este, when he was sent as legate to France, carried in his train more than four hundred horses; and it is mentioned not as an indication of pomp and wealth, but, on the contrary, of humility, that Cardinal Bellarmino had in his house only thirty servants to wait upon him. The palaces of the princes not only swarmed with armed re- tainers, but with assassins, ox'-^ bravV^ as they were called, who did the " secret service " of their lord. Within their precincts, as well as in the churches, any one who had committed a crime in the streets could obtain refuge, and no one dared to pursue them there — not even the officers of justice. The criminal then entered * Le case dei cardinal! tutte s* erano messe in fortezza con bertesche ; e la casa del vice cancelliere avea due bastioni. (Diario Del Notaio di Nantiporto alia morte de Sisto IV,) Infessura, in his diary, states that "Cardinalis S. Petri ad Vincula multos pedites ac milites stipendio acquisivit et domum suum mira- biliter fortificavit et fulcivit. " GOOD OLD TIMES— LAWLESSNESS. 541 the service of the pruice into whose palace he had sought asylum, assumed his livery, received his protection, and thenceforward snapped his fingers in the face of the world. In this way the princes surrounded themselves with unscrupulous adherents who owed them their lives, and were ready at their bidding to commit any crime. Those were "good old times." There were none of those miserable police officers about, but a merry life of wine and women, no law, and stabbing of enemies ad libitu7n. Take, for instance, a little incident related by an old chronicler which occurred in the time of Gregory XIIL, as illustrating the general irresponsibility of the nobility. The ^^ BargcUo^' who was the chief of the police, had in the exercise of his office arrested some outlaws, who having escaped from Naples had placed them- selves under the protection of one of the great Roman barons. As he was conducting his prisoners through the streets he was met by a set of young nobles, among whom were Pietro Gaetani, Silla Savelli, and Raimondo Orsini, who stopped him and ordered him to surrender his prisoners. The Bargello, says the old chro- nicler, "spoke to them, cap in hand, with great respect, endea- vouring to quiet them and to persuade them to allow him to do his duty. They, however, would not listen to him, but attacked him and his followers, killed several, took others into houses and flung them from the windows, to the great ignominy and con- tumely of public justice." This, however, was not the worst — an unlucky shot had killed the noble Raimondo Orsini; and the Bargello, fearing the ven- geance of the Orsini, against which the Pope himself was power- less to protect him, immediately fled the city as the only means to save his life. But the noble house was not thus to be balked ; and the brother of Raimondo, not being able to find the Bargello, slew in his stead the lieutenant-general of police as he was coming down from the papal palace on the Quirinal. During these delightful days there were much rejoicing and festivity, if not among the people, at least among the princes. While the former were starved to pay for these splendours, and forced to eat bread, which, says Infessura, "was black, stinking, and abominable, eaten only from necessity, and the cause of much 542 jROBA BI ROMA. disease,"* nothing could surpass the luxury of the papal dignita- ries. There were costly ceremonies of all kinds, when "the Flo- rentine ambassador washed the Pope's hands at the beginning of the sacred rites, Venetian ambassadors washing them in the middle, and the prefect of Rome at the end of the same;"! and entertainments where Leon Cobelli says that " it was charming to see the Lady Countess and all her damsels come forth in different magnificent dresses every day for a whole wxek, and the great buffets, ten feet high, in the banqueting hall of the palace, loaded every day with a fresh service of silver and gold." In the " Relazioni degli Ambasciatori Veneti," I find the record of a banquet given by Cardinal Andrea Cornaro at Rome, during the Pontificate of Leo X., which may perhaps afford a layman an idea of what constituted a cardinal's dinner in those days. " The repast," says the ambassador, "was most beautiful. There was an infinite quantity of viands, and no less than sixty-five courses, with three different dishes at each course, which were continually changed with great agility, so that scarcely had one been partaken of than another was brought on. All was served on beautiful silver plate, and in great quantity. The feast being finished, we all arose stuffed and stunned i^stuffi e sto7'diti), both by the abun- dance of viands, and because at the table of the cardinal there was every kind of musician that could be found in Rome." One hundred and ninety-five different dishes is truly an apostolic dinner ! At Cardinal Grimani's, a few days after, the ambassadors relate that, it being a fast day, they dined entirely on fish like good Catholics, and sat at the table for six hows, and they mention among other fishes a sturgeon, the head of which was "larger than that of an ox," and which had cost eighteen golden ducats, a sum equivalent to about forty scudt, or eight pounds sterling. One cannot help in this connection recalling Andrew Fairser- vice's notions about Romanism at Osbaldiston Hall : " We hae mense and discretion," said he, "and are moderate of our mouths; but here, frae the kitchen to the ha', it's fill and fetch * Rer. Ital. Script., torn. iii. pp. 2, 1183. t Ibid., torn, xxiii. p. 137. GOOD OLD TIMES— BANQUETS— JOUSTS. 54 mair frac the tac end of the four-and-twenty hours till the t'other. Even their fiist days — they ca' it fasting when they hae the best of sea-fish frae Hartlepool and Sunderland hy land- carriage — forbye trouts, grilses, salmon, and a' the lave o't, and so they make their very fasting a kind of luxury and abomi- nation, — and then the awfu' masses and matins o' the puir deceived souls." * .The convivial suppers of the Pope himself were as luxurious and costly as those of Vitellius. They were enlivened by the jesting of buffoons and all sweet instruments and singing, in which the Pope, who was an excellent musician, joined ; and whenever any one sang with him so as to please his holiness he was rewarded by a gift of a hundred scudi and more.f After supper he sat down to cards, and often lost at primiera, a game of which he was very fond, enormous sums. Marino Giorgi, the Venetian ambassador, says that his losses at this game, together with his "gifts," amounted annually to more than 60,000 scudi, all of which he levied from vacanze di benefizii. \ Besides this, there were constant hunting, and fishing and hawking parties, at Corneto, Viterbo, and Bolsena, on the most extravagant scale. One of these, which was given by Cardinal Cornelio during the Papacy of Leo, has already been cited, and from this an idea of a papal hunt may be derived. On the walls of the great ante-chambers in some of the princely houses of Rome may be seen large paintings representing jousts and festivals held in old times by the nobility ; and in the book- stalls of the Piazza Navona (which is a sort of literary Ghetto), amid the soiled and second-hand rubbish, now and then is to be found a volume with illustrations containing descriptions of * It is curious to compare with this a dinner, reported by Macrobius to have been given by Metellus, the Pontifex Maximus, in the days of ancient Rome, at which several distinguished guests were present, as well as four vestal virgins. The dinner was magnificent, and Macrobius gives the dishes in book iii. chap, xiii. of his Saturnaliorum. t Relazioni Venete, Rel. di Marino Giorgi, p. 56. " Sopra tutti musico eccellentissimo, e quando canta con qualcuno, gli fa donare cento e piu ducati." X Ibid. 544 ROB A DI ROMA. some of the spectacles which were once celebrated in this very piazza. One of these festivals took place here in the year 1634, on the occasion of the visit of Prince Alexander Charles, of Poland, which is fully described by Vitale Mascardi, in a pamphlet published by him at the time, and enriched with numerous engravings. Car- dinal Barberini was the prime mover in this festival, and in the palace of the family may still be seen a huge picture in which it is represented. The prince was first received in the noble house of Signor Orazio Magalotti, when Fame made her entrance into the saloon in a triumphal car, richly carved and gilded. A cavalier accompanied it, a golden eagle drew it, and Fame, with a trumpet in her hand and splendidly dressed, sang a wonderful ode of welcome to the accompaniment of a band of music. As she ceased a herald advanced, and announced that the Mantenitore, who assumed the title of Tiamo di Menfi, challenged all the world to contend with him in a tournament, to be held in the Piazza Navona on the 15 th of February, when he would keep the field against all comers. The tilting he declared to be against a wooden Saracen set up in the lists — he to be proclaimed victor who, under the rules hereafter to be published, should give the three best blows. The cardinal, joining with him in this scheme, at once ap- pointed a squadriglia of four gentlemen in his retinue, who were to represent four captive kings, to respond to this challenge. The formal acceptance of it, however, was made at the palace of the Signore Falconieri, where a great ball was given in honour of the prince. After many divers scenes had taken place, all the company retired into a great hall, where seats were formally arranged around an open square. Here appeared two nymphs accompanied by six pastori and a herald. The nymphs, adorned with flowers and brandishing spears, sang songs and odes to the accompaniment of various instruments, after which the herald advanced and formally accepted the challenge on the part of the four captive kings, and the six pastori then went through with some curious pastoral dances. At the appointed day the jousting took place in the Piazza GOOD OLD TIMES— TOURNAMENT. 545 Navona. The Piazza was magnificently arranged and must have presented a most imposing appearance. It was completely sur- rounded by a double tier of boxes for spectators, the lower of which were sufficiently high to allow the horses of the tournament to find shelter beneath them. On one side was a third row of boxes for the noblest ladies \ and here, occupying the post of honour, was the box of the Donna Anna Colonna and the Donna Costanza Barberini. This amphitheatre of boxes was decorated, according to the taste of the various parties who were to use them, in splendid hangings fringed with gold, silver, and velvets. All were covered in so as to protect the inmates from the sun as well as from the rain, in case the day should prove inauspicious. But everything smiled ; the day was perfectly cloudless, and the vast circle was crowded with the most distinguished ladies of Rome, all richly dressed and adorned with jewels. From the palaces and houses of the piazza floated draperies of gold and silver, and superb pictured tapestries ; and not only the win- dows were thronged, but the very roofs were covered with crowds. In the centre of the piazza were the lists, consisting of a triple line of fence-work, through which the cavaliers were to joust. On the centre-line, near one end, stood the wooden body of the Saracen, against which all were to tilt. The -principal rules were, that whoever struck the figure above the brow should receive three marks, from the brow to the chin two marks, and from the mouth to the chin one mark. Below the chin a stroke of the lance counted nothing, while if any one struck the shield or body of the Saracen he lost one mark. Opposite the Saracen stood a great covered staging for the judges, and at the head of the lists was erected a lofty pavilion, covered with the richest stuffs, where the Mantenitore and his suite held their camp. The arrival of the Donna Anna Colonna and Donna Costanza Barberini was the signal that the games were to commence. At the sound of trumpets there entered the Mantenitore and the various squadrons which were to dispute with him the prizes, each making the round of the piazza and then taking the stand as- 2 N 546 ROB A DI ROMA, signed to it. First came the Mantenitore and his suite. He was preceded by four trumpeters, after whom came six horses led by- grooms j then came twenty-eight staffieri on foot ; then four pages on horseback, who carried great silver salvers filled with sonnets and boastful challenges, to be distributed among the ladies. Two mounted padrini then followed, accompanied by a single horse- man, and last the Mantenitore made his appearance, dressed magnificently '"''alia Egittiaiiar He wore a superb robe of ornie- smo, fastened at the neck with a jewel of extraordinary size with rilievi of gold and pearls, and embroidered all over with alammi of pearls and gold in the figure of palms, the fmit being of splendid rubies. The under dress was equally magnificent, the sleeves being covered with embroideries of little pearls and trimmed with exquisite lace ; long outer sleeves lined with red, sewed over with gold, hung dangling down, and floated with the motion of the horse ; a gleaming cuirass was on his breast ; at his side was a scimitar sheathed in a green scabbard loaded with jewels ; his stockings were of silk and gold, and jewelled shoes were on his feet, armed with golden spurs. But the most extra- ordinary feature of his dress was a rich turban, woven of alternate threads of wool and gold, and glittering all over with jewels ; above this rose a gigantic plume, or forest of plumes, made of green and white feathers curiously arranged one above the other in tiers, and rising to the height of some six feet above his head. These were bound together with flowers and gold tinsel, and crowning all were groups of snowy peacocks' plumes. In the centre of this \YO\\diQrin\ pennacchto was seen the escutcheon of the Mantenitore — a blazing sun, with the motto ^^ Non latet quod lucet" The spear which he bore in his hand was of silver tipped with gold. His horse was equally splendid in his trappings. Magnificent housings fringed with rich lace, and fastened at the crupper and over the breast with great brooches of costly jewels, fell to his knees ; and on his head was a lofty petinacchio which nodded as he advanced. The engraved portraits of this personage and his suite given by Mascardi show a marvellous richness of costumes and indicate a splendour equal to that displayed in the beautiful frescoes of Pinturicchio at Siena. GOOD OLD TIMES— TOURNAMENT. 547 The next sgimdriglia was that of the gentlemen of the cardinal, representing the four captive kings. All eyes were fixed on them, the fame of their splendour having preceded them. Nor did they disappoint expectation ; and as they made the circuit of the lists loud cries of applause saluted them. These four cavaliers were Count Fabrizio Ferretti, Francesco Battaglini, Girol. Martinozzi, and Dominico Cinquini. They were dressed in rose colour. Their breasts were covered with steel cuirasses over shirts of golden mail, below which hung superb vests, with fringes of gold and great drops of pearls. From their shoulders floated magni- ficent mantles, richly worked in gold and embroidered with flowers, and royal crowns of gold on their heads, surmounted by plumes of exquisite yellow feathers. The equipments of the horses were equally costly, and no expense had been spared in the costumes of the whole suite. At the head of the squadriglia rode the dwarf of the cardinal, mounted on a richly-caparisoned bull. After these came the other squadrons, equally splendid in all their appointments, and each with his suite, all of which the worthy Mascardi elaborately describes. As they entered they distributed cartelli^ accepting the challenge of the Mantenitore, and as soon as the inclosure was filled, signal was given by trumpets, and the tilting commenced, and continued with' great excitement and enthusiasm for five hours. The Donna Anna Colonna offered as a prize a rich gioia of diamonds, which, says the gallant Mascardi, "did not more splendidly shine forth from the purple of its beautiful cluster of roses than did its charming donor." Twelve cavaliers showed equal grace in tilting for this, and at last it fell to Virginio Cenci by lot. The Mantenitore showed great skill; and on one occasion tilted with two lances, one in each hand, guiding his horse by holding the reins in his teeth ; and afterwards he struck the Saracen with three lances tied together. The cardinal gave as a prize a jewelled sword, armacollo, beaver cap, gloves, and, in a word, a sumptuous and complete suit ; and this was taken Ijy the Conte Ambrogio, one of the cavaliers of the squadriglia Provenziana. 548 ROBA DI ROMA. Night now began to come on, and the shadows were deepening in the piazza when the sound of artillery was heard, and a new wonder appeared. This was no less than a great ship, which was seen to approach the theatre. The mastro di campo immediately sent forth to inquire what it was, when answer was returned that it belonged to one of the gods who had come to visit the tilting field. Orders were then given to admit it, and in the light of more than a thousand torches this splendid toy made the circuit of the piazza. The low wheels on which it moved were hidden under artificial waves. The sides were covered with arabesque brackets, between which were shields of silver, bearing alternately a sun, a column, and a bee, the emblems of the noble houses of the Mantenitore, the Colonna, and the Barberini ; over these was a cornice of laurels with silver brackets, between which were port-holes for four cannon. The prow was formed of the head of a strange and monstrous fish plated in gold, and on the end of its long snout was a golden bee; under this was the figure of a syren with a double tail curled up on either side, and carrying in one hand a sun and in the other a column. On the poop was a raised platform surrounded by an open temple resting upon four pilasters richly ornamented, inclosed by a gilt balustrade, and bearing aloft a golden lantern. Round the prow also was a gilt balustrade. From the bowsprit swelled a sail, and from a tall mast in the centre, on the yards of which was a furled sail, floated a rich gonfalon with the arms of the three families emblazoned on it. At the mast-head was a flag of the same, and a sailor was constantly climbing up and down the rope ladders. Under the temple on the poop sat the god Bacchus, and near him were eight Bacchanti, who sung and played the harp, violin, and lute. These, with four satyrs, four shepherds, and three cannoniers, constituted the entire equipage on board; while at the side of the vessel ran sixteen fishermen in long robes of blue, covered with silver scales, and carrying torches in their hands. Accompanying this vessel was another with six sailors, a pilot, shepherd, and ten nymphs, who played on musical instru- ments. To the sound of music and the peal of their cannon these GOOD OLD TIMES— FEASTS AND FIGHTING. 549 two vessels slowly moved round the amphitheatre, and paused before the boxes where were seated the Donna Anna and the Donna Costanza and their cortege, as well as under that occupied by the Marchesa di Castel Rodrigo, the wife of the Spanish ambassador. Then all was hushed, and the god Bacchus, accom- panied by a chorus of the nymphs and shepherds, sang an ode, and the 7'iso, as the concluding portion of the song was called, ter- minated the music, in the words of Mascardi, " with a superhuman grace." After the ship had made the entire tour of the piazza, the cavalieri and their padrini were all graciously invited by the Donna Costanza to her palace, where they partook of a " lautissima cola- tione " at the expense of the cardinal. The ship was afterwards, at the unanimous request of the people, carried through the principal streets of Rome by daylight, and gave universal delight. And thus ended this splendid show for the day. A great dinner was afterwards given by the cardinal at the grand gallery of the Cancelleria ; and such satisfaction did he get out of this, that again, on the subsequent Tuesday, he gave a reception at the Palazzo Colorina, which terminated the splendours of this carnival festival. But these are fragments from the ecclesiastical and princely robes — let us look at a few rags which are taken from the people. In the fourteeth century it was the custom among the Romans, as well as throughout Italy, to celebrate Sundays and y^^jY<2-days by sham battles, when the people were divided into two parties, each armed with wooden swords, spears, and shields, and having on their heads wooden helmets called cistas. These games generally ended in bloodshed, which added greatly to the amusement. In some of the Italian cities the combat was with slings, the two parties issuing from separate gates and fighting fiercely together for hours. At Modena there was a '' pratum di baitaglia " ex- pressly for these combats. Milan had also her " brolimn, " where the youths contended with arrows and spears. On these occasions not only the men of rank and dignity engaged in the contest, but 550 ROBA DI ROMA. common people of both sexes. ^' St. Bernardine mentions these mortal games as common in Perugia. In Siena, where they flourished under the title of '"'' giuoco deW ehnora" the battle was fought with spears and stones. St. Augustine reproves these games as unchristian. " Not only the people," he says, " but relations, brothers, parents and children divide themselves into two parties, and for continuous days at certain periods of the year fight together with stones and kill each other as they can. And I wish most sincerely that I were able to root out this cruel and inveterate evil from their hearts and manners." f Such was the loss of life during these battles that it became necessary to pro- hibit them, but it was impossible entirely to root them out. In Siena the inhabitants of the Borgo and the city had furious con- tests, called the ^^ giuoco della pugna,'' in which numbers of dead were often left upon the ground. These combats with fists were instituted in place of the ^^giuoco delV elinora,^^ but they were always attended with similar fatal results ; for though the battle began with fists it ended with weapons of every kind. In 1317 a terrible fight occurred, in which many were killed, and peace was with difficulty restored. In 1536 one of these battles took place in the presence of Charles V., who especially commended it ; and such hold had they on the people that they survived even in the beginning of the present century. J In Rome these combats flourished until within a very few years under the name of ^^ Sassamole" They usually took place in the Campo Vaccino, or at the Cerchi, or on the slopes of the Coelian Hill at the Navicella. All the little boys were taught the use of the sling, in which they became proficients. The Roman mothers used to hang their lunch on a tree, and they could not have it unless they brought it down with a stone. The statues of Donna Lucrezia, Marforio, and the Babuino were noted targets, and bear * Murat. Antiq. Ital., torn. ii. De Spectac. et Lud. Pub. Med. ^v., p. 833. t De Doctrina Christiana, lib. iv. cap. 3. X Gentile Sermini, Giuoco della Pugna, L'Assedio di Siena del Bulgarini. Part ii. p. 233. GOOD OLD TIMES— SASSAIUOLE. 551 tremendous marks of "punishment," Pasquino also suffered ter- ribly under their stones. The great parties between which these battles were fought were the Montigiani who inhabit the Rione de' Monti on the Esquiline, and the Trasteverini. These two wards contain more of the old Roman blood than all the rest of the city. P2ach boasts its ancient Roman descent, and between them has always existed a profound jealousy. On festal days they fought terribly together with stones, forming into great companies with leaders, attacking each other furiously in their strong posts, and often leaving scores of dead and wounded on the ground. It is not until within a very short time that the government has succeeded in suppressing these bloody contests ; and the old usage still shows itself in any row. The first thing an angry Roman seeks, if he have no knife to plunge into the breast of his adversary, is a paving-stone to fling at his head. Besides these games, the Romans had their bull-fights and horse and buffalo races. As late as the fifteenth century these races still took place before Lent in the Circus Agonalis, w^here the senator of Rome presided e7t grande iemie and adjudged the prizes, which were generally a ring of gold and a pallium of woollen and silk. There were also games in Monte Testaccio, where cha7'ettes of pigs were tumbled down the hill for the amuse- ment of the people. The expenses of these games were defrayed by a tax of 1130 florins levied annually upon the Jews — the curious charge of the thirty additional florins being intended to represent the thirty pieces Judas received for betraying Christ. Joustings, tournaments, and hunting parties were common in the old days. Some of these caccie took place in the arena after the manner of the ancient Romans, and some in the Campagna. The caccie of wild animals long survived in the Campo or Piazza in Siena, some of which were very remarkable. The hunters were clad in the various costumes of their guilds, and had great wooden cars, or macchine as they were called, very richly adorned. On these the victors used to hang the skins, and portions of the body and entrails of the animals they had slain, as trophies. This custom is alluded to in the following verses : — 552 ROBA DI ROMA. " Hie est ille loeus Campus celeberrimus, hie est Cuo fiunt ludi varii, et celebrantur honores Virginis, et eurru tauri eervique trahuntur ^ Viscera, et armatus sonipes pro munera certat. " * • One very pompous spectacle of this kind was held on the 15 th of August, 15 16, on the festival of the Assumption — rather an odd way of celebrating it. In the buffalo races superb macchine were often constructed at great expense, which were carved and covered with paintings representing all sorts of allegorical figures, and some- times adorned with gold, silver, and jewels. On one occasion, at the festival of the Madonna in 1546, the cost of the cars amounted to 100,000 florins. Bull-baiting was once a favourite sport of the Italians. When Margaret of Austria entered Florence, previous to her nuptials with Alessandro de' Medici, called II Moro, two bulls were baited and killed in the square for her delight, and for the delight of the young bride who accompanied her, Catherine de' Medici. This was one of the most popular amusements at Rome, and till within a very few years mounting a furious bull w^as one of the chief games in the Mausoleum of Augustus. Specially famous for this feat was Luigetto la Merla, called " I.o Zoppo," who is still living. After the dogs had worried the bull to desperation, Luigetto advanced, and flinging over his horns a noose, dragged him roaring with rage to a pillar in the centre of the arena. There, holding him down by an iron ring passed through his nose, he flung over him a heavy saddle, buckled it firmly, and sprang on his back. The moment the bull felt himself mounted he roared and foamed with rage. The noose was then suddenly loosed, and at the same moment fireworks placed under his belly Vv^ere fired. The maddened bull then dashed wildly round the circus, struggling in every way to fling his rider ; but Luigi, firmly planted in the saddle, was too much for him, and kept his seat, riding him round the ring amid the wild cheers of the spectators ; after which the noose was again thrown over his horns, and he was dragged back and secured to the column, and the rider sprang to the ground. * Vittorio Campanaticense De Ludo Pagne. GOOD OLD TIMES-RELICS IN ROME. 553 This is all over now, and instead we have only the annual circus in the autumn, and the drama in the summer months. How tame these look compared with the bull-baiting, the sas- saiuole, the tumult and riot of the good old times ! But the "good old times" have not utterly gone, — we have still the equukiis, which has been revived by the most eminent Cardinal Antonelli, to be applied to prisoners who are obstinate and will not confess ; and we have dungeons and prisons on the old pat- tern, where robbers and assassins and political prisoners are con- fined together in the same public hall ; we also retain the insane hospitals on the good old plan, and in the country jails you may hear the ribald songs of the prisoners who crowd to the grating that opens on the street, and beg and curse ; and we have still secret tribunals as in the past, and courts not open to the public, where all the pleadings are printed in Latin. The streets, too, at night are not altogether so safe as they might be ; for when driven to desperation by want, the Romans take to feudal customs ; and in the ill-lighted alleys of the city, remote from the patrol, they demand in a somewhat imperious manner, at times, your jDurse and your watch. Ma che volete ? Are not the rulers of our fathers good enough for us ? are we alone wise in our generation ? Do not let us be in a hurry in our pretended reforms. Eestina letiie is a safe rule. Let us, as far as we can, conserve the principles and the practice of the past. All old customs are good in part, be- cause they are old ; and we must take care not to pluck up the grain wdth the tares : where there is honey there are flies. Nothing is perfect : seasoned wood does not crack. If a man will not testify the truth, we must make him; and the cavalldto is an excellent method that we had foolishly done away with. As for open tribunals and juries, that system is productive of the worst effects in England and France. The Church knows what is best for us ; and while people are wicked,* and do not have faith in it, the prisons must be full. Robbery and brigandage seem to have disappeared from the Romagna since that country wickedly abjured its allegiance ; while they still exist within the Papal rule, and in the city of Rome. But irreligion is worse than robbery. The rebellious heart is the fiercest of brigands. There is much 554 ROBA DI ROMA. excuse to be made for a poor creature tempted by want to theft. The government is paternal so long as its subjects do all their reli- gious duties. It shuts its eyes for seven years to the embezzle- ments of the Marchese Campana in the Monte de Pieta, and shall it not be equally generous to a poor devil, with not a crust to put in his mouth, who is driven by necessity to carry on the improper trade of robbery? But he who seeks to overthrow the govern- ment, and who insults the Church, or who nourishes secret desires against the temporal power of the Church, is wicked of heart, and should be punished severely, and placed among the worst of the prisoners. Padre Bresciani, in the " Civilta Cattolica," is certainly of this opinion. He bravely defends Cardinal Antonelli, and the intro- duction of the eqiiuleus or cavalletto ; and, a pi'opos of thieves, he tells a story which illustrates the customs of certain classes in Rome, who levy taxes on travellers without reference to the Papal laws, after the old way of the middle ages. These persons, he says, are known to the police, and friends to the police, with whom they share their ill-gotten gains, and are therefore permitted to live and exercise their profession freely. If you want your watch, which has been stolen, do not go to the police, or at least do not go without a good bribe. There is another and better way, that you may employ on occasions, as you will see by the follow- ing incident. A short time since a gentleman wandering along by the ruins of the Palatine, passed by the arch of the old Cloaca Maxima, when he heard the cry of a woman calling for help. Hurrying down the bank, he saw a young woman in the flower of her age lying stretched on the ground. " Ah, signore" she said, "I have been waylaid here by three drunken soldiers while I was seeking for wild chicory; and as I was endeavouring to escape, one of them knocked me down with a stone which he threw at me." The gentleman was preparing to give her all the help he could, when suddenly two men leaped out upon him, one of whom, menacing him with a knife, demanded his purse and the other his watch. Seeing the odds, he considered the better part of valour GOOD OLD TIMES— BEPPONE S BAND. 555 was discretion, and immediately surrendered botli ; and both men as well as the woman disappeared. His purse, unfortunately for him, was well filled with gold ; but he lamented more than this the loss of his watch. It was a gift from his dead brother, and for this rather than for its intrinsic value he regretted the loss. Under these circumstances he went to a friend to consult with him what steps he should take to recover it. "I don't object even to paying its full value," said he; "but I must have it again, if possible." " It is unnecessary to offer its full value to the police," was the answer of his friend. " Offer twenty-five scudi ; that will be more than the robbers can get for it in the Ghetto ; and they will be glad to return it for that sum. Follow my directions, and I'll promise you shall have it in your pocket to-morrow evening. Go to-morrow at about eleven o'clock in the morning into the Campo Vaccino, where the excavations are making. That is the time when the workmen take their siesta, and make their second cola- zione. You will see them lying about under the walls of the Far- nese Gardens and the Arch of Titus, and the slopes of the Palatine. Among them is a band which always keeps by itself, and with whom the other workmen will not mix. This is composed of a set of sad scamps, who are always watched, and yet who manage to carry on their thieves' trade, despite the police. The chief of this band is called Beppone. He is a little fellow, with a pair of ash- grey whiskers, and his customary seat is on some old beams near the ancient I'ostra. He is their broker and treasurer, and through his hands all the articles stolen by the band must pass. Go straight to him, tell him your story, offer him twenty-five scudi for the watch, and it is yours." When eleven o'clock struck the next day, the gentleman was in the Campo Viccino. All happened as his friend had told him. The workmen at the striking of the hour abandoned their work, and sought the shadow of the walls to eat their lunch and take their siesta. There, too, was Beppone, whom he immediately re- cognized, sitting in his customary seat. He approached, told his story, and offered twenty-five scudi for the watch. 556 ROBA DI ROMA. Beppone listened, and when this offer was made he turned round, and calHng to a group sitting at a short distance, cried, " Eh, Nannetto, who was on the rounds of St. Giorgio and the Cerchi yesterday?" " Lo Schiaccia col Barhone " (The Smasher and Big Beard) was the answer. "May an apoplexy take you!" cried, in return, Beppone. " The Smasher was at St. Andrea della Valle, and Big Beard was on guard at the Santi Apostoli." " So they were — let me see. Ah, yes. The Sausage and Jes- samine were there Avith the Pivetta. I remember now." "Very well," said Beppone, turning to the gentleman. " Come back to-morrow and you shall have your watch ; ben inteso^ after the countersign and the twenty-five scudiP At the appointed hour the gentleman returned. There sat Bep- pone on his tribunal like a judge. ^^ Biion giorno^' he said. "Now for a description of the watch — what was it?" Its owner then gave a careful description. "All right," said Beppone; "there's your watch and now for the twenty-five scudi.^'' But the good old usages are, in most instances, dying out. Even the knife itself is not used as it once was. After the festivals fewer wounded are annually brought into the hospitals. Between Sunday and Monday it was common w^ithin the last quarter of a century to see six, seven, or eight wounded men brought in ; but now this is rare. The customs are growing milder since the time of Leo XII., who introduced many salutary reforms. "Eh! giovinotti /" cried an old Roman matron a short time since, leaning out of her window in the early morning, and calling to the staffieri who had gathered under the portone of the palace. " Eh ! giovinotti, how many wounded did you carry last night to the 'Consolazione?'" "Not one, excellenza.^^ "Eh!" said the old lady with a sigh, as she drew back her head. "The Romans are losing their manhood and growing to be old women. They are no longer the Romans of my time." GOOD OLD TIMES— OHIME. 557 No ! alas ! they are not. The bull-fights, the jousting, the sassaiiiolc are over. The stabbing is diminishing; the firing of guns out of the windows on Sabbato Santo grows more and more feeble yearly; the shambles are no longer in every street. The women are beginning to wear the detestable French bonnets, and to lose their beautiful costumes. Sedan-chairs are almost never seen ; every one goes in a carriage, and only the sick are borne along in litters ; and by-and-by, if things go on thus, we shall lose, Heaven help us, even the prisons and the bandits, and at last, who knows, the very Pope himself. CHAPTER XXI. POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. What was the population of Rome during the imperial days is a question which has been frequently discussed, and never satis- factorily settled. Some modern authors place it as low as 700,000, and one estimates it as high as fourteen milHons. The truth pro- bably lies somewhere between these two extremes. By the census of Servius Tullius (a.u.c. 180), which was the first regular registry of the population of Rome, there were 80,000 citizens capable of bearing arms. This number had soon in- creased to 1 10,000 ; and in the year following the expulsion of the Tar quins (245), the returns of the census make the number of Roman citizens between fifteen and sixty years of age to have been 130,000.^* Ten years after this number had increased to 150,700. Dionysius, however, says that more than 133,000 registered their own names and fortunes, and the names of their sons who had arrived at manhood. And Pliny tells us that in the year of the city 364, the number of freedmen in Rome was 152,580. In the middle of the fifth century (a.u.c.), the Romans were divided into thirty-three tribes, and the total number of citizens, including, besides those enrolled in the tribes, the JEmr'mns and the people of those foreign states which had been obliged to receive the civitas sine stiffragio, amounted to 272,000. In 488, Eutropius (Lib. 2) gives the number of citizens at 292,334. In 501 the census is stated at 297,797 ; f and in the first * Plutarch, in Public, p. 103. f Liv. Epit. 18. Fast, capit. POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. 559 quarter of the sixth century, the whole number of Roman citizens able to bear arms is stated by Livy (xxii. 54) to have been 270,000. In 527 A.U.C., when preparations were made to repel the invasion of the Gauls, the returns of the population capable of bearing arms presented a total, according to Polybius * and Eutropius,! of no less than 750,000 or 770,000. This included the entire population of Southern Italy, but excluded all the country north of the Rubicon and the Macra, as well as Bruttium and the Greek cities of Magna Grecia. It is questionable whether this number included or ex- cluded 50,000 reserves for Rome ; but taking it with this deduc- tion, it shows the population to have been very large. Of this body the Umbrians furnished 20,000, the Cenonians and Venetians 20,000, the Sabines and Etruscans 50,000, and the Latins 84,000. The city of Capua, which was the second city of Italy in import- ance, was reckoned to be able to raise 30,000 foot and 4,000 horse. % Dr. Arnold estimates the proportion of Roman soldiers, as compared with all those furnished by all the Latin and Italian allies, to be about two-fifths ; which (if the total number were 700,000) would make the number furnished by Rome to be 280,000, or very nearly coincident with that mentioned by Livy. If, then, there were no less than 280,000 men able to bear arms in Rome, what must have been the population ? In the year 539, despite the terrible losses suffered in the cam- paign against Hannibal and the defeat of Cannae, there were fourteen legions, or 140,000 men in arms, independent of the sea- men and soldiers in the fleets, 70,000 of which are considered by Dr. Arnold to have been Romans. Now, forty years before, at the battle of Ecnomus, the Roman fleet of 330 ships contained, at the smallest reckoning, 140,000 ; each Roman ship having on board 300 rowers and 120 fighting men ; and if we strike out all the rowers and treat them as galley slaves, there still remain 40,000 fighting men to add to the Roman army. These numbers are, however, only the numbers actually on the field, and afford no indication of the numbers capable of being called out in case of supreme necessity. It is to be observed, however, that the * ii. 24. t iii- 5- X Livy, xxiii. 5 j Niebuhr, vol. ii. note, 145. 56o ROBA DI ROMA. actual proportion of Romans to their allies in this army is not as two to five, but that the numbers were, as reckoned by Dr. Arnold, equal. In the latter part of the sixth century of the city the number of Roman citizens given by the census was (in 589) 327,022 ; at about the middle of the seventh century they had risen to 400,000 \ and in 683, which is the last account remaining to us, though not the last account taken during the Republic, the number of citizens was 450,000. The numbers given by the census can of course only give a proximate idea of the actual population, for it must be remem- bered that the census included only Roman citizens, and excluded from its total sum of capita, every slave, filius fafmlias, single wo- man, orphan, and foreigner, besides a large number who were struck from the register for unworthy conduct, and all freedmen who were not citizens. Dionysius, speaking of the census of the year 261, says that the number of citizens who were men grown amounted to above 110,000, and that the women, children, do- mestics, foreign merchants, and artificers, not enumerated, did not amount to less than treble the number of citizens (Book ix. c. 26). To these are to be added the slaves, who are generally estimated to have formed one-half of the population ; and this estimate is mode- rate if we may trust the statements of some ancient authors. Pliny and Athenseus, for instance, both speak of the immense numbers of slaves at Rome, and the latter says"^' that he knew very many {TraixTToWoi) Romans who had ten and even twenty thousand slaves and more. Pedanius Secundi, prefect of the city, having been murdered by one of his slaves in the year 814 (a.u.c.), all of his household slaves were executed in expiation of the crime ; and of these Caius Cassius tells us that there were 400 in his house. ''At present," he goes on to say, "we have in our service whole nations of slaves." We have a chance record, too, of one freedman in the reign of Augustus, who, though his fortune had been greatly diminished by the civil wars, left at his death no less than 41 16 slaves. What was the number of the imperial slaves * Deipnos, I. vi. p. 272. POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. 561 we know not, but that it was enormous is evident from the fact that no less than 6000 urns have been discovered of the slaves and freedmen of Livia and Augusta, and so minute was the di- vision of ofhce that one was appointed to wash the wool and another to take care of the lapdog. Again, Plutarch, in his Life of Crassus, incidentally mentions some facts which show the enormous number of slaves owned by private persons. After the burning of Rome, perceiving that many houses in the city were falling, he purchased, additional to the slaves he then owned, five hundred more, skilled in architecture and construction, and having bought a large number of houses, set them to work in rebuilding ; and in this way, with his army of slaves, he acquired a great part of the city. But apparently, from what Plutarch says, these 500 slaves formed a small part of the number he owned, among whom were writers, readers, silversmiths, stewards, builders, &c. Seneca also says, "The opinion has sometimes been put forth in the senate, that the slaves should be distinguished from the free. But it is manifest how dangerous it would be if our slaves should begin to number us;" thus plainly indicating the superior number of the slaves. Besides these come the freed- men not citizens, and Pliny tells us that in the year 364 the number of freedmen in Rome was 152,580. Then come foreigners, of whom the senate, in the year 565, by one decree, ordered no less than 12,000 who had settled in the city to return home. If, therefore, we multiply the sum total of the census by three we shall approximate to the numbers of the free population, and by doubling the free population we shall get the total number of slaves and free persons. Applying this rule to the last census of the republic that we possess, we shall have a population of 2,600,000 Romans. This number appears so enormous, that it is generally supposed not to apply strictly to the inhabitants of Rome, but to include at least the neighbouring people who were incorporated into the Roman people, and received the privileges of citizenship. That it did not include the total population of Italy is manifest from the state- ments of Polybius and Eutropius, who, as we have seen, give the population able to bear arms in Southern Italy alone, below the 2 o 562 ROBA DI ROMA, Rubicon and exclusive of Bruttium and the cities of Magna Grecia, at from 750,000 to 770,000, at the very time that Livy states the number of Roman citizens able to bear arms at 270,000. The census, therefore, given by Livy did not include this population, but at best only the Roman citizens living away from Rome in the south ; and supposing this to be the case, and that three-fifths of the number stated in the census were not in- habitants of the city itself (this being the ratio of the census given by Livy to that given by Polybius), we have to reduce the popula- tion of the city of Rome at the end of the Republic from 2,600,000 to 1,440,000, which is still an enormous population. Nor will this number even seem to us, perhaps, sufficient, if we take into account some facts which we have expressly stated by different authors. For instance, there is a conversation reported by Athenaeus (Lib. vi.) on the subject of slaves, which shows the enormous number which must have existed in Rome, and is well worthy of being considered here by those who think the estimate of them at half the population as excessive. It is as follows : — "Timaeus, forgetting what he had before said, declared that the Greeks were not in the habit of having slaves. In thus speak- ing, Timaeus (honourable) has rendered himself Epi-Timeus (dis- honourable), and is so called by Istrus in the work he has written to refute Timaeus. In fact, this Epi-Timeus himself says that Mnason of Phocida possessed more than a thousand slaves ; and in Book iii. he declares the city of Corinth contained 46 myriads. Ktesides reports in Book iii. of his Chronicles, that on the 1 1 6th Olympiad the census of the inhabitants of Attica was made, when there were found to be 21,000 Athenians, 10,000 strangers, and 40 myriads of slaves. Xenophon in his Treaty on Imports, relates that Nicias, son of Nicerates, having 1000 slaves, let them out at the silver mines, to Socia, a Thacian." In Egira, says Aristotle, in his ''Republic of Egira," there were 47 myriads of slaves. According to Agathareides of Cnidos, in the 38th book of his History of Europe, the Dardanians had, some a thousand slaves, and others more. Larensius, interrupting these details, says, " But every Roman, as you know, my dear Marsurius, possesses infinitely more POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. 563 slaves. Very many (7raju,7ro\\oi) citizens have from ten to twenty thousand slaves, and even more, not to draw a revenue from them like Nicias, the rich Greek, but the chief part of the Romans kept a great number, merely to form a cortege to them when they go out." Again, take the statement of Pliny that, as early as the year 364, there were 152,000 freedmen in Rome. It is not a stretch of imagination to suppose that there were at least five persons to every freedman at the time. Yet this would give us as a popula- tion of Rome at that time 760,000, whereas the census of citizens is only about 130,000. Surely, then, this census did not enumerate any but the actual inhabitants of Rome. Under the Ccesars the city was vastly increased by streams of people who poured into it as the centre of civilization. From the IMonumentum Anc}Tanum we find that the Jf/el^s twbana was, at the time of Augustus, 320,000. This did not include the women, children, senators, or knights, so that the free population could not have been less than at least double that number, or 650,000. Adding the slaves as equal to the freemen, we have at once 1,300,000 as the least number at w^hich the population could be reckoned ; but, as Dr. Smith justly observes, it in all probability greatly exceeded that number. Indeed, this calculation is pre- posterous. The women alone would double the number of plebs urbana. The children again would quadruple it; the strangers, senators, knights, and others, would quintuple it ; so that at least we must reckon the free population at 1,600,000 ; and doubling this for the slaves, we have a total population of 3,200,000. But, according to the learned Justus Lipsius, this calculation is far too small. Taking the number of 320,000 as the ^^ plebs urbana^^'' he makes an elaborate calculation, founded thereon, as to the probable population of the city of Rome, in which he cites many authorities, and brings much learning to bear on this sub- ject. He considers" that as the ^^ plebs urbana^'' does not include the rich, the senators and knights, the ^^ plebs honestas^' nor the women and children, they could not fairly be reckoned as com- posing more than one-sixth of the free population. This would make the total free population about 2,000,000, which he asserts 564 ROBA DI ROMA. should be at least doubled for the slaves ; so that, putting out of consideration the strangers resident in Rome, who were very numerous — so numerous indeed as, by the testimony of ancient writers, to form a very important portion of the inhabitants — we have about 4,000,000 as the total population. "Nor," says he, " after examining all the authorities, can I admit that there were less." In respect to the number of the strangers, who are seldom con- sidered in estimating the population of Rome, Lipsius cites some passages from Seneca, showing how large a proportion of the people they composed. " Look," he says, " at these crowds, for which the immense roofs {iminensa tecta) scarcely suffice. The greater part of this crowd {maxima pa7's) are without a country : from the municipalities and the colonies, and indeed from the whole world, they have flocked here ; " and again, " The greater part of these have left their own homes and come to this greatest and most beautiful city, which is, nevertheless, not theirs" {fion tamen sua7?t). So also Lucan, speaking of the funeral of Julius Caesar, says, "//^ siimmo publico luctu exteraruiti gentium multitudo suo quceque 7nore lamentata est." However these statements be re- duced, it is plain that the strangers resident in Rome {'^populis vectisque f7'equentem gentibus,^^ as Lucan says) were an exceedingly numerous body, not to be omitted in any calculation of the num- ber of inhabitants. But to take still another view of this question : Who were the ^''plebs urbana ? " It is plain that they were not only '^p/ebs," but ^^urbana;" that is, they were that portion of the p/ebs which lived " in urbe," that is, in the city proper, and within the walls ; for the term " urbs " was solely applied to the city within the walls, and did not embrace that portion of the city without the walls : " Urbs est Roma, quce micro congeretur."'^ If then, there were 320,000 ^^plebs^^ within the walls, how many were there outside the walls? Aristides Rhetor, who lived in the reign of Hadrian, says that Rome ^^ desceiidit et porrigitur ad mare ipsimi" — stretched down to the very sea; and in this statement he agrees with Pliny and POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. 565 Dionysius ; the latter of whom says that the walls were so hidden by the masses of buildings that they could with difficulty be found. Suppose, then, that there were little more than half as many out- side the walls as there were inside, we should have 500,000 ; and supposing that the plebs only constituted one-fourth of the total free population, we have 2,000,000 ; and, doubling these numbers for slaves and strangers, again we arrive at four millions. But this was in the time of Augustus, when, according to the same Monumentum Ancyranum, the capita of Roman citizens were a little more than four millions. But when the census was taken in the subsequent reign of Claudius, the number of Roman citizens had increased to some six millions ; and probably Rome itself had likewise increased its population proportionally. These two statements of the census are, strictly speaking, of Roman citizens. It is, therefore, impossible that so enormous a population as this would indicate could have been included within the walls of the city proper, or within even the circuit about Rome ; for, if we add to this number of citizens the free popula- tion not citizens, we shall have some twenty millions at least of free persons besides the slaves. The result clearly indicates one of two things — either that this was the number of persons having the rights of Roman citizenship wherever they were, or that it was the total of the inhabitants of Rome and its vicinity. When the Emperor Claudius (says Gibbon) "exercised the office of censor, he took an account of 6,945,000 Roman citizens, who, with the proportion of women and children, must have amounted to about twenty millions of souls. The multitude of subjects of inferior rank was uncertain and fluctuating. But after weighing with attention every circumstance which could influence the balance, it seems probable that there existed, in the time of Claudius, about twice as many provincials as there were citizens, of either sex and of every age ; and that the slaves were at least equal in number to the free inhabitants of the Roman world. The total amount of this imperfect calculation would rise to about 120,000,000 of persons, a degree of population which possibly exceeds that of modern Europe, and forms the most numerous 566 ROBA DI ROMA. society that has ever been united under the same system of government." ^' In this calculation Gibbon states the census of Claudius as 6,945,000. t He also estimates the citizens represented by the census as only constituting one-sixth of the free population ; for to this original number of citizens he adds thirteen millions as representing the women and children, and then doubles the result to include all other free persons. In the calculations, however, which have been made in this paper, the citizens have been taken as constituting one-fourth instead of one-sixth part of the one population \ and this was assumed on the ground that Dionysius states of the census of the year 261, that women, children, domes- tics, foreign merchants and artificers not enumerated did not amount to less than treble the number of citizens. To avoid exaggeration of any kind this proportion was taken ; but it would seem that both Gibbon and Lipsius considered it too small, and had reason to believe that the citizens were only one-sixth instead of one-fourth of the free population, and this they might well be. But, taking them only at one-fourth, we shall have six millions as the citizens, eighteen millions as the remainder of the free people, making in all twenty-four millions ; and doubHng this for the slaves we have forty-eight millions as the whole population. There still remains the question what portion of this population inhabited Rome and its suburbs. As the centralization of the Roman empire in Rome was far greater than that of the United * Decline and Fall, vol. i. 54. f The exact numbers, as stated by Tacitus, appear differently in different manuscripts. In the Vatican MSS. they are 5,984,072, which seems generally to be thought the better reading. Other MSS. read 6,945,000, conformably to the statement of Eusebius, and this is adopted by Gibbon ; and 6,964,000, which is adopted by Lipsius, and is borne out by Cassiodorus. The inscription on the Portico S. Gregorio (apud Gruterum, p. 301, n. i), which stands in these terms : " Temporibus Claudii Tiberii Facta Hominum Armigerum ostensione in Roma Septies centena millia Lxxxvi. mil. x," is not considered by the best authorities to be genuine. Brottier and Pegnorious condemn it ; and Oberlin, in his Notes to Tacitus (edit. 1819, Paris), says, " Parum vera aut fida mihi est. Et tamen cum de his saltem qui arma ferrent agat nihil nobis obstat." POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. 567 Kingdom of Great "Britain, Ireland, and Wales is in T.ondon, we may perhaps fairly assume that the ratio existing between the total population and the inhabitants of the city will be equal in both cases ; and that, by applying this ratio of London to Rome, we shall not include a larger number than is probable. Now, in round numbers, the population of Great Britain, Ireland, and Wales is 30,000,000, and that of London may be said to be 3,000,000, or one-tenth. Taking then the population of the Roman empire as 48,000,000, one-tenth, or 4,800,000, will repre- sent the inhabitants of Rome. Or, assuming the estimate of Gibbon as just, we shall have one-tenth of 125 millions, or twelve millions, as the population of Rome and its suburbs. But as the centralization of London has been greatly increased since the network of railways has brought it so closely into connection with the country, let us rather take the population as it was in 1820, of twenty-five millions for the whole kingdom, and 1,500,000 for the city of London. This would give a ratio of about one-seventeenth ; and applying it to Rome, we should find that it contained about six millions. Thus, as the calculation of Lipsius founded upon the Monu- mentum Ancyranum gives the number of the entire population of Rome as equivalent to the number of Roman citizens in the census of Augustus, so the calculation of Gibbon gives the same result in respect to the census of Claudius. And it would seem, therefore, to be doubtful wliether the term " civiwn Romanoruni " is to be used in its strict sense of citizen or in its more popular sense of inhabitant, as it frequently was ; for instance, by Vitru- vius, who, speaking of the inhabitants and buildings in Rome, says, " In ea aiifcjn ma j estate urbis, et civium infinita freqtiejitia innumerahilis habitationis opus fuit explica7'e.'''' But whether we take the sum stated by Tacitus as the number of Roman citizens throughout the empire, or as the number of the inhabitants of Rome and its suburbs, including all classes, both free and slave, we shall arrive at nearly the same result. But the population was not at its height when this census of Claudius was taken ; it continued greatly to increase even to the days of Aurelian, and perhaps to those of Honorius. 568 ROBA DI ROMA. "Speaking even of London," says Mr. De Quincey, "we ought in all reason to say, the nation of London, and not the city of London \ but of Rome, in its meridian hours, nothing else could be said in the naked rigour of logic. A million and a half of souls, that population apart from any other distinction, is per se a justifying ground for such a classification. A fortiori, then, will it belong to a city which counted from one horn to the other of its mighty suburbs not less than four millions of inhabitants, at the very least, as we resolutely maintain after reviewing all that has been written on that much vexed theme, and not impossibly half as many more." * This is also the number reckoned by Lipsius as the probable population of Rome in its flourishing Caesarian days. A number so enormous as this could not of course be included within the walls of the city as they now exist ; but it must be re- membered that the walls once probably enclosed a far larger space. Yet setting this consideration aside, Rome the city was no more circumscribed by its walls, in its real meaning, than is the city of London by its actual limits of Temple Bar. When London is spoken of, we do not mean the city proper, but all that agglome- ration and mass of houses extending over miles. In like manner Rome, overrunning its walls, spread itself in every direction ; so that for a diameter of some ten miles at the very least the houses were closely compacted together. Dig where we will on the Campagna between Rome and the Alban Hill, or down in the direction of Ostia, we turn up the substructions of ancient build- ings. We have the testimony of Pliny, and Dionysius, and Venantius Fortunatus to the enormous extent of country covered by buildings. "If any one," says Dionysius, "be desirous to measure the circumference of Rome by the w^alls, he will find it hard to discover them, on account of the buildings by which they are closed in and surrounded."t And in the banquet of Athenseus occurs a remarkable passage, fully bearing out these statements : " Rome," he says, " may be fairly called the nation of the world ; and he will not be far out who pronounces the city of the Romans * Lib. iv. ch. 13. f The Csesars, p. i. POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. 569 an epitome of the whole earth ; for in it you may see every other city arranged collectively, and many also separately ; for instance, there you may see the golden city of the Alexandrians, the beau- tiful metropolis of Antioch, the surpassing beauty of Nicomedia ; and besides all these, that most glorious of all the cities which Jupiter has ever displayed, I mean Athens. And not only one day, but all the days in an entire year would be too short for a man who should attempt to enumerate all the cities which might be enumerated as discernible in that tiranopolis of the Romans, the city of Rome, so numerous are they ; for indeed some entire nations are settled there, as the Cappadocians, the Scythians, the people of Pontus, and many others." '^' To what modern city would such a description as this apply, after making all allowances for poetic exaggeration? Besides, the name Rome did strictly and legally include not only the buildings within the walls, but those beyond the walls as well ; while to those within the walls was applied the term " ii7'bs " precisely as London is distinguished from "the City." " Urbt's appellatio 7nuris ; Romcd autem continentibus cedificiis Jlmtur" says Paulus;t and in the 87th Law, ^^ ex Marceilo,'^ according to Alfinus, " Urbs est Roma, quce i?iU7'o conge?'etur; Roma est etiam, qua continenii cedificia essentr And again, in the 147th Law, '■''ex Terentio Clefnenti" " Qui in continentibus urbis nati sunt, Romoi nati inteiliguntur" Nor do the walls, as they at present stand, probably afford a correct indication of the enclosed city in its most flourishing period. Vopiscus says that the walls of Aurelian were "nearly fifty miles in circumference, while the present walls are only about thirteen, and his account would seem to be borne out by Claudian. According to Pliny, however, the walls were only 13,200 fathoms which is about the measure that they now have, if he meant their circumference and not their diameter. Lipsius, in a discussion of this question, states that this measure is manifestly incorrect and inadequate, and reckons it to have been about forty-two miles : * Deipnos, Book i. chap. 36, translated by C. D. Yonge. f Digest, lib. i. tit. 16, de Verborum Significatione. 570 ROBA DI ROMA. and Nibby is of a similar opinion. M. Ampere, while inclining to an opposite opinion, seems to hesitate in rejecting this estimate, and answers one of the objections to it, that no traces of such a wall now exist, by saying, " Thebes had an enclosure {enceinte) at least as considerable. Yet I do not know that a brick of this enclosure has ever been found." At all events, we know that the Pomerium, which was the actual boundary of the city, in which no houses could be built, was repeatedly removed beyond its original limits, and specially by Augustus and Claudius, clearly showing the constant growth of the city and the demand for additional space.*' And Strabo tells us that the actual limit of Rome was at a place between the fifth and sixth milestones, where the Ambarvalia were celebrated. This measure is from the column in the Forum, and if the distances were equally great in all directions, we have a diameter of the city at about eleven miles. The enormous population of the city of Pvome may also be inferred from the accommodation required by the spectators at the theatres, amphitheatres, and baths. There were no less than 9025 baths, of which those of Caracalla afforded baths for no less than 1600 persons at a time, and those of Diocletian for 3200 persons. Three aqueducts now supply Rome with more water and fountains than are to be found in any other city in Europe. Yet, in its best days, no less than fourteen, and, according to some accounts, twenty aqueducts were needed to supply the demands of the population, and to feed more than 13,000 foun- tains. Look, then, at the theatres. The wooden theatre of Emilius Scaurus contained no less than 80,000 seats. The theatre of Marcellus seated 20,000 persons. These were found too small, and the Colosseum was constructed to seat 80,000 and to afford standing space to 22,000 more. The Circus Maximus was enlarged from time to time to meet the demands of the pubh'c, and under the emperors it would hold no less than 385,000 spectators. The population which required such accommodations * See Tacitus, Ann. xii. 23 ; Dion. Iv. 6 ; Vopiscus, Aiirel. 21 ; Atdus Gell. xiii. 14 ; Senec. de Brev. Vit. 14 ; Strab. lib. v. ch. 3. POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. 571 as these must have been enormous. Reckoning it at four millions, and subtracting one-half as being slaves, we have two millions of free people at Rome ; and in the Circus Maximus alone we have provision made to seat about one in five of the free population. But would not this be an enormous proportion to attend at any one spectacle ? Look, again, at the loss of life in the arena. At the triumph of Trajan 10,000 gladiators fought; and 60,000 fell under Spartacus ; and 1000 knights and senators fought in the Campus Martius at one spectacle given by Nero. There were also 10,000 combatants in the Naumachia on Lake Fucinus, under Claudius. These numbers surely indicate a great population. Consider also this statement of Eusebius. On the occasion of a great epidemic in Rome, he says, for many days 10,000 dead were reported in the journal : ^^ I/igenteni RoincE lucni factani ita ut per midtos dies m ephemerideiti, dccejii millia mortuoi'icui rcfer- rentur^^ — that is, if there were 4,000,000 of inhabitants, one in four hundred died daily, for many days ; and if those " midtos dies " were ten, the city lost 100,000 persons. This would be an enor- mous mortality even in such a population. Long after its great imperial days were past, the remains of Rome attest its former grandeur. Even as late as the sixth century, and after the passage of Alaric and Genseric, it must have been a wonderful city, as will be seen by the following statistical state- ment found by Cardinal Mai, and descriptive of this period. This document, which dates from the middle of the sixth century (540), was written by a certain Zacharia, and begins thus : — " This is a brief description of the beauties of the city of Rome. Its abundance in everything and its tranquillity are great ; its delights and comforts {commoditates) are marvellous, and such as conform to this admirable city. And first for the richness of the ornaments : I do not speak of those which are in the interior of the houses, as columns of porticoes, of their elegance and height There are 384 large and spacious streets; two capitals; 80 great golden statues of the gods, and 66 ivory statues of the gods; 46,603 houses; 17,097 palaces; 13,052 fountains; 3785 bronze statues of emperors and other generals; 22 great horses in 572 ROBA DI ROMA. bronze ; 2 colossi ; two spiral columns ; 3 1 theatres ; 1 1 amphi- theatres ; 9026 baths j 274 bakers, who furnish bread to the inhabitants, without counting those who circulate in the city in selling it ; 5000 burial-places {fossi) where dead bodies are placed; 2300 shops of perfumers; 2091 prisons.'"^' Taking the numbers here given of the houses and palaces as a basis of calculation, we shall see that we cannot have over- estimated the probable population of Rome. " We must remember," says Mr. De Quincey, " that feature in the Roman domestic architecture (so impressively insisted on by the rhetorician Aristides) in which Rome resembled the ancient Edinburgh, and so far greatly eclipsed London, viz., the vast ascending series of storeys, laying stratum upon stratum, tier upon tier, of men and women, as in some mighty theatre of human hives. Not that London is deficient in thousands of lofty streets, but the storeys rarely ascend beyond the fourth or at most the fifth ; whereas in old Rome and the old Edinburgh they counted at in- tervals by sevens and even by tens." A similar statement is also made by Desobry in his " Rome au Siecle d'Auguste" (p. 223): — "The houses of Rome," he says, "are of a height so prodigious that in many places the city is tripled, quadrupled, even sextupled ; " and this fully confirmed by the ancient authorities. And it is also to be added that not only were the houses exceedingly high, but the streets were exceedingly narrow. Cicero describes Rome as " placed upon mountains and valleys, uplifted and suspended with attics or garrets, with not good streets, and with very narrow alleys " {in mo7itibus positam et convallibus cxnacidis siiblata7n et suspensa7n non optimis viis, angus- tisshnis semitis).\ So also Plutarch speaks of the houses as " cedificia multa nhfito pondere et doiniciliorimi multiiudine co?'- ruere,^^ % Claudian also. speaks of Rome : — * This will be found in " L'Histoire Romaine a Rome," by M. Ampere, Revue des deux Mondes, vol. xii. p. 332, November, 1857. t De Leg. Agr. Orat. § 35. + Crassus, § 2. See also Tacitus, Ann. lib. xv. § 47 ; Suetonius in Neron. 38 ; Juvenal. Sat. vi. 78 ; Diod. Sic. xiv. 324 ; Tit. Liv. xxi. 62 ; Strabo, v. 235 ; xvi. 257. POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. 573 ** Qua nihil in tcrris complcctitur allius acr ; Cujus nee spatium visus, nee corcla deeorem, Nee laudem vox ulla capit." And again, not to multiply quotations, Vitruvius, speaking definitely, and as an architect, says, " On account of the majesty of the city, and to accommodate the infinite crowds of people {civiiwi infiuita fi-equentia), innumerable dwelling-places were re- quired. But as the actual plane area of the city could not afford space for such a multitude of habitations, it became necessary to obtain it by the height of the houses. Therefore, by means of stone pilasters, constructions in terra cotta, and plaster walls, the upper storeys were built out and supported by nu- merous beams, which were utilized for attics hanging over the street" This condition of things had got to be so intolerable in the time of Augustus, that he was obliged to fix 70 feet as a limit above which they should not be built for the future. This height was afterwards reduced by Trajan to 60 feet. Such indeed was their height that the streets were completely darkened and over- shadowed by themj and one of the great improvements intro- duced by Nero in rebuilding the city was to enlarge the squares and streets and let in more light. Now in the list just cited there are no less than 46,603 houses, and 17,097 palaces. Counting each of these houses as contain- ing five storeys, and five persons on an average to each storey, we should at once have a population of 1,165,075. We then have the palaces. No person living in a palace in Rome during its days of greatness could at the very least be supposed to have less than 100 persons in his employ, and this alone would add 1,709,700, bringing up the population to 2,874,770. Yet this calculation as to the household of the noble Romans is manifestly far too low, when we consider the statements of Athenoeus, to the effect that many Romans had 10,000, 20,000, and even more slaves ; " not," he adds, " to draw from them a revenue like Nicias, the rich Greek, but the greater part of the Romans have a very large number to make their cortege when they go out." In 574 ROBA DI ROMA. this passage, Larenslus is replying to the statement of Marsurius, that "the Dardanians had some a thousand slaves, some more ;'' and interrupts him to say, "but every Roman, as you know, my dear Marsurius, possesses infinitely more slaves." Yet, it is an undoubted fact that the numbers of slaves, and freedmen, and other persons attached to the household was so great that a nomenclator was a necessary officer, whose especial business it was to learn their names. But if this be strictly true, consider what a number of slaves must have been in these 17,097 palaces. His words are un- doubtedly not to be taken in the letter, but only in the spirit. Let us suppose then that one-fourth of the owners of these palaces had 200 slaves, or one-half the number which we know Pedanius Secundus had in his house when he was murdered, viz. 400, and that the other three-quarters had one-fourth the number, or 100 slaves, we have the astounding number of 2,125,000 to add to those of the free population. Yet if a freedman, in the time of Augustus, after suffering heavy losses by the civil wars, could leave 41 16 slaves, this calculation does not, to say the least, seem excessive as applied to the nobles. This calculation is borne out by other facts which we know. Rome was divided by Servius Tullius into four regions. But under the Empire Augustus made a new arrangement, dividing the whole city within and without the walls of Tullius into fourteen new regions. Each Augustan region, according to a survey made in the time of Vespasian, contained 19, or, according to a later account, 22 vici, with as many sacella, in places where two streets crossed each other. Each vtcus contained about 230 dwelling-houses. If there were 22 mci to each region, the city must have contained 75,000 houses. Of these, we know by the list already cited that 17,000 at least were domus or palaces. Reckoning each of these to have contained 200 persons, including family, freedmen, and slaves, we have 3,400,000 persons; and considering the remaining 58,000 houses to have been insulce, and to have contained 25 persons each, we have in them 1,450,000. This would give an entire POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. 575 population of about 4,850,000 persons, without counting those who were in the Pretorian camp and elsewhere. Or, reckoning the vici at 19, we have the number of houses in the city 61,180, thus corroborating the document of Zacharia, which gives the houses at 63,700. Mr. Brottier, in his edition of Tacitus, has devoted a long note to the examination of this vexed (question as to the population of Rome, which he places at 1,188,162 persons. He reasons that the number of persons in Rome will bear the same relation to the houses in Rome that the persons in Paris will to the houses in Paris. Now, in Paris at the time when he wrote there were 30,000 houses, of which 500 were hotels. The hotels he reckons to hold 42 each, and in each of the houses he reckons that there are 3|- families, or 21 inhabitants. This would just make the population of Paris as it then was, or 640,500. This rule he then applies to Rome. On the authority of P. Victor, ''^ De Regionihus Urbis^'' he says that there were in Rome 46,602 insulce or houses, and 1780 do?nus or hotels. The domus he reckons to have contained 84 persons each, and oddly enough cites in support of this statement the fact that in Pedanius Secundus's house were 400 slaves, not counting the freedmen, which seems a curious reason for estimating the whole household at 84. The ijisulce he supposes to have held only 2 1 persons each. On this calculation there were in the insulce 978,000, and in the domus 149,520; to these he adds 60,000 for those in the Pretorian camp and elsewhere, — thus bringing the total poj^ula- tion to 1,188,162. But instead of 1780 domus or hotels, there were in fact, if we credit the list discovered by Cardinal Mai, 17,097 — an error or misprint having occurred in the statement of P. Victor, by which thousands are changed into hundreds. If this be so, even on Mr. Brottier's calculation, the total population, instead of being 1,188,162, would be 2,473,896. That there is a mistake is plain from the fact that the two accounts concur in stating the number of insulce at almost exactly the same figure ; and if hundreds be changed to thousands, the number of domus will very nearly cor- 576 ROBA DI ROMA. respond. And besides, there seems to be no reason for estimating these domus or palaces as containing only 84 persons. His calcu- lation Is, that each of the private so-called hotels in Paris contains 42 inhabitants; but certainly a private hotel in Paris does not represent a palace in ancient Rome, with its retinue of freedmen and slaves. In what private hotel in Paris, for instance, would 400 persons be found ? Yet these were the slaves only of Pedanius- Secundus, not reckoning the family or freedmen ; and If one takes into account the statements of Athenseus, or the fact of 41 16 slaves left by one freedman, we shall see that this calculation is simply absurd. We must, therefore, either utterly reject the state- ment of Athenjeus, and in fact all ancient writers, as pure fictions, and suppose all the cases of which we have exact data to be purely exceptional, or we must consider the calculation of Mr. Brottier as manifestly wrong, erring as much In under-estimating the population of ancient Rome as others perhaps have in over- estimating it. While putting forward his own views, he says : " LIpsIus thought that Rome contained four millions of persons ; others believe that it contained eight millions; and still others have not been ashamed to estimate its inhabitants at fourteen millions." * Yet while thus setting aside the conclusion of Lipslus as un- tenable, he does not attempt to answer his arguments, nor to dis- pose of his facts. He contents himself with a sneer, and, like a true Frenchman, cannot admit that Rome could be much larger than Paris, or that any ancient palace could contain more Inmates than a Parisian hotel. Again, this calculation of Mr. Brottier would not apply to Paris at the present time. Though Its population has almost trebled since his time, the number of houses has not doubled ; and if the rule adopted by Mr. Brottier of calculating the inhabitants of Paris by the number of houses were now applied, he would find that he must allow a much larger number to each house, and this Immediately would greatly increase his own calculation of the population of ancient Rome. But let us take another statistical basis of calculation — quite * Brottier's Tacitus, vol. ii. p. 379. POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. 577 independent of what we have already considered — founded upon the laws of the distribution of corn. The first of these " Fru- mentariie Leges " were introduced by Sempronius Gracchus in the year 123 B.C., in order to supply the poor of Rome with corn at a price much below its market value ; in fact, at a trifle over one- half its market price. Each citizen had a right to apply for a certain quantity. This law subsequently underwent various modifi- cations, but corn continued to be sold to the people until the Clodian law was passed, by which it was distributed gratis. The abolition of payment cost the state one-fifth of its revenue. Caesar en- deavoured to remedy in part this evil by excluding all from receiving this largesse who could not prove themselves to be Roman citizens. By this means he at first reduced the number of recipients from 320,000 to 150,000, but in the reign of Augustus the number again rose to 320,000, to whom corn was distributed. In all probability these 320,000 citizens were of the poor and necessitous class. If there was a family, only the father or head of it was entitled to receive this charity, and it was restricted to citizens proper. Now if one-half the whole number of citizens received this largesse, we shall have the total population at the least calculation as follows : — Male Citizens ........ 640,000 Women ........ 640,000 Children ......... 1,280,000 Freedmen and persons not citizens, which we will \ reckon at the number by which the persons were > 150,000 reduced by Julius Csesar .,...) 2,710,000 Double this number for slaves ..... 2,710,000 5,420,000 And still we have left but the strangers. We have thus calculated that one-half the citizens received this charity, in itself certainly a very improbable supposition. 2 p 578 ROB A DI ROMA. But suppose that every citizen was furnished gratis by the state, we have the following result : — Citizens 320,000 Women ..... 320,000 Children 640,000 Freedmen, &c. .... 150,000 1,430,000 Slaves 1,430,000 2,860,000 Adding the strangers, we shall have a total of nearly three miUions, even on this forced supposition. And we must also suppose that the number of recipients actually embraced the total number of citizens, for the statistical number given is only of those to whom corn was actually given, and is in no way to be considered in the light of a census of citizens entitled to receive it. It is also a matter of dispute, whether every citizen had the right to avail himself of this law independent of his circumstances and property. But even suppose he had, is it not to the last degree improbable that every citizen, whatever was his wealth and station, did actually apply for it ? On the contrary, suppose that these 320,000 citizens repre- sented only the poor and necessitous classes, as in all probability they did, the population of Rome would truly appear enormous. This calculation, however, is on the number of recipients in the time of Augustus ; and from 320,000 it had risen to 500,000 in the time of the Antonines, which would bring up the number of inhabitants to more than 4,000,000, supposing every citizen to accept the largesse. Besides, these 320,000 recipients of the pubHc charities are, it is plain, the 320,000 plebs urbana of the Monumentum Ancy- ranum. But in presence of these facts, which have been stated, let us now briefly consider what would be the result if we take the esti- mate of Mr. Merivale that the population was about 700,000. In the first place there would be 500,000 male citizens in Rome, POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. 579 while all the rest of the people, including women, children, slaves, freedmen, and strangers, would only amount to 200,000, which is manifestly absurd. In the next place^ the Circus Maximus could seat considerably more than half the population. But did half of any population ever go to any single game in the known world ? When the old men and women, the children, the decrepit, the sick, the slaves, and all those who had business elsewhere, or who cared not to see any game, are subtracted, if one in twenty went, it would be a large proportion. Suppose one in ten went ; we should have a population of four millions. But that more than half should go, and that a building should be made sufficient to accommodate such a proportion of the inhabitants of all classes, is incredible. Then, again, the Colosseum would hold nearly one in six of the population. Take the largest theatre in London, and calculate the population of London on the number it would hold, and see the result ; or take all the theatres in London and cal- culate the population from them, and we shall see that altogether they would not hold one-tenth of the people, nor anything like even one-fiftieth of them. Take, then, the number of houses and palaces. This would allow an average of twenty persons in each palace, and less than eight persons in each house. There were even in the 6th century 17,097 palaces, which, multiphed by 20, gives 341,940 persons in the palaces. Then there are 26,603 houses; and if there were eight persons in each house, there would be 372,824 — which would give 14,760 persons above the calculation of 700,000. Yet after the descriptions we have of the houses, storey above storey, and of the number of slaves, is it possible to believe that a palace contained only twenty persons, and a house not so many as eight? In the house of Pedanius Secundus there were 400 slaves, not to speak of the family ; or as many as there would be in fifty of these houses, or in twenty palaces. Or take the case oi t\\c freed/nan in the time of Augustus, who had 41 16 slaves; he would alone have taken more than 500 houses, or more than 205 palaces to house them. But if each palace has only twenty persons, what becomes of the agmina of gladiators that lived in them, and formed the escort of the wealthy classes ; the 10,000 and 20,000 slaves owned by 58o ROBA DI ROMA. some rich men, of whom Athenseus speaks ? With an average of only twenty persons to a palace, what would be the necessity of a nomenclator, such as we know was required by a Roman noble ? Now, in one palace in Rome of the present day, of which I can speak with knowledge, there are housed 115 persons, yet there are no slaves, of course ; the family is small, and the household is by no means considered large in Rome, and in the palace there is much unoccupied room. As for the ordinary run of houses in Rome, I do not believe one can be found with so few as eight occupants, even in the meanest quarters. Take, again, the statement of Eusebius as to the famine. If 10,000 persons died each day for many days, and this mortality lasted ten days, 100,000 persons would have perished, or one in seven of the whole population if that were only 700,000. This is an impossible proportion. Again, in the time of Augustus, when the population was by no means at its height, there were 320,000 //= ^E=;^=t=^tzzp-=S:p: =!=[={:: [. Tu Ver-gi-nel -la fi - glia di Sant' An W it :E ^ I jN I IN I. ifei :?2: igi^^i^^ 584 :l?*=d= ROBA DI ROMA. m . . che in ven - tre tuo por - ta - sti il buon Ge - Mz sl M I.— .1 ^c^=^ 33 -•- -W- ■•■ -W- 5t T^;^-»l- -*- :J: — V. — ^_ g fe :?i=;^ s '-W=^- -I — h :t= ■^-^—\^-- t=^ z^n^^n:. - su ! che in ven - tre tuo por - ta - sti il buon Ge M 3=)^ 5 •*-^if q=^ ^-•- ' - * -•- • -•- -a* •-• -*• iik^j^p; S 1^1 ^ J- J ' 1 ^ J^J_V J J ^31=^ i:?2i:zzz=z:z^b^zz=zzz=b^2i:^= fc l^iii ife?^:^E3: p=^ - su I . . t^-- mf -=1: 1 i! . ! IN SB: :^5^ i— -?=: i^ ^ "^^^ m-y-:^ ^r3t t2r:' cr J— ^rl^^ *» — ••- ^a Sempre p fm-- 4»i . I :^: J ^ J -J^ J J' :ii=g= p:fe iJ!z:g=:gq : SOXG OF THE PIFFERARI. 58s iHI 4-JS W^^^E^ •^P^- cr ^=>^ .-■tit 3.,=.S^2^: !ii -^--1^ gglg^gsg ^ 1 ±M 1 1 ;i£ la Volt£ 4S ^-1-F- 2. E'l Dal segno. ^ -=^_^ TIL L^ L |\.IJ_ %-^-- :p: ir-i :p2z: ^z! ///«? end of all iJie stropJtes this Adagio is played: — A I 2a Volta. /_-S^T8:,^:S_-S^?L^:gL_5Lj. ^jPi^E^ig^^ lE^^^J^^^ 586 ROB A DI ROMA. :2iS|— ^= &m^^^^ !^ -i^i K— ^C-|« — ;* — C-^ — n 'i 'J 1 22: iS: ?=2: :^. :e2: :!=:- I feg^^«# g^^^^^ii^ ■f2 -s' 'J^ J-_, 3-_.i ;lEdzs=ffl= fEEi^; :-:^^l Noie.— ''The Athenxum" (Jan. 24th, 1863), speaking of this notation, says, '' The pijerari tune noted by Mr. Story is by no means one of the best to be found. A more characteristic one, of the same style, was wandering the streets of London some months ago." To this I have only to say, that though other and " more characteristic" tunes may be played hy pifferari in London, this is the only air ever played by \he pifferari at Christmas in Rome. APPENDIX. POPULATION AND FINANCES OF MODERN ROME. Since the Romagna has become a portion of the kingdom of Italy, the Papal power has been much restricted in extent, and comprises only the following provinces : — Provinces. Geographical Population. Population per square miles. vh""^"^"- square mile. Rome and the Comarca . 1,319,2 326,509 302,509 Civita Vecchia . . 286,1 20,707 72 Frosinone . . . 555,4 154,559 278 Velletri . . . 430,0 62,013 H4 Viterbo .... 873,2 128,324 147 3,463,9 692,112 Within the last ten years, the population of the City of Rome has constantly increased. It 1855, it was 177,461, not including the French garrison. In 1859, it was 182,585. At Easter in 1864, it amounted to 203,896 ; and, adding the French soldiers and the average number of strangers who lived there the whole year, the number of inhabitants may be stated as about 210,000. From Easter, 1863, to Easter, 1864, the number of births was 5305, of whom 2634 were males, and 2671 were females ; the deaths were 6028. At Easter, 1864, the inhabitants of Rome were distributed into the following categories: — Total Population Males— Below 14 years 32,907 Above 14 years .... 36,694 Married 3i>732 Widowers ..... 4,893 Ecclesiastics, friars, and those attached to the Colleges of the Church . . 4,585 100,341 * * There is an error in the addition of this return ; but I copy it exactly from the Observatore Romano " of April 12, 1865, as I know not how to correct the error. 588 APPENDIX. Fe7nales- Below 12 years 21,371 Above 12 years (unmarried) . . 27,871 Married 29,549 Widows 9,908 Nuns and Sisters in Convent, &c. . 4,870 93.5*^9 Soldiers, Prisoners, and Persons not Catholics — Pontifical soldiers .... 4j732 Prisoners ..... 377 Non-Catholics 382 Jewish Community . . . 4^495 9,986 203,890 The " Almanach de Paris " gives the following list of the Revenue and Expenditure of the Papal States for 1864: — Ministry of Finance. Taxes and Revenue of the Apostolic Chamber ..... C Customs . . .... Post Lottery Public Debt Mint's Stamping of Precious Medals . Special Funds and General Expenses of the Ministry Ministry of the Interior Ministry of Commerce and Public Works Ministry of War .... The excess of expenditure above receipts is, therefore, 5,410,331 scudi. This is derived fi'om three sources : — 1st. From the payment of the whole public debt of the Roman States as they were before the Romagna became a portion of the Italian kingdom. 2nd. From the payment and pensioning of a large number of civil function- Revenue. Expenditure. 1,003,736 271,048 57,072 2,609,910 435,395 176,975 142,372 745,617 499,330 202,156 5,636,260 66,110 57,754 1,303,386 45^564 873,975 51,762 313,114 55,115 1,361,432 5,318,708 10,729,039 APPENDIX. 589 aries who were in the service of the State in its original condition, and who have remained faithful to the Roman government, 3rd. From the augmentation of the public debt in order to meet these expenses. The Peter's Pence have supplied annually about ^ths of the deficit only. INDEX. Agricultural statistics, 349 ,, implements, 353 Agro Romano, 330 ,, ,, agriculture in the, 347 Apollo (Tor di Nona) Theatre, 203 Aqueducts, Ancient, 474 Aquina, 346 Ara Coeli, historical events, 77 ,, Bambino of, 81 Artists' festival, 185 Augustus, Mausoleum of, 224 ,, newly found statue^of, 341 Autumn landscapes, 317 Ave Maria on the Campagna, 1 77 Ballads sung in the streets, 15 Ballet, by puppets, 281 ,, preferred to Opera, 209 Banquets, Ancient, 542 Baptismal ceremony, 486 Bargains, make your own, 391 Bathing, Modern, 472 Baths, Ancient Roman, 468 "Beefsteak" (a dog), 66 Befana, 83 ,, festival in P. Sant'Eustachio, 86 Beggars, 39 ,, causes of their numbers, 50 ,, recipe for avoiding, 47 ,, at country festas, 48 ,, mostly strangers, 53 Begging, a profession, 46 ,, a lucrative one, 47 Beppo, 40 Beppone, chief robber, 555 Betrothal ceremony, 496 Bird fanciers, 87 Births, Customs at, 485 Blessing of Animals, 462 Boccette, Game of, 126 Bonfires on May-day, 170 Booths in Piazza Navona, 38 1 Borghese chapel, 5 1 1 Borghese, Princess, Story of, 511 Bridal procession, 495 Briscola, Game of, 156 Buffaloes, 357 Bull fight at the Colosseum, 255 Caffes and Theatres, 200 Caffe Greco, 201 Calabresella, Game of, 159 Campagna, Game of, 128 Campagna, The, 328 ,, Products of, 355 ,, Scenery of, 343 „ song, 36 Capuchin cemetery, 512 ,, convent life, 60 Capuchins, poor, good-natured, dirty, 57 Caracalla's Baths, 486 Cards, Games of, 156 Catacombs, 332 Catechism, 93 Cattle on the Campagna, 356 Cemetery, Capuchin, 512 ,, Protestant, 509 ,, San Lorenzo, 506 Cenci palace, 413 Censorship of the Stage, 214 Charities of the Government, large, 5 ^ Christmas, 69 Cleanliness, National, 472 Climate, has changed, 370 Cloacae, 333 Cobblers, 30 Colosseum, 231 Colosseum, History of the, 234 ,, Gladiatorial shows, 241 592 INDEX. Colosseum, how plundered, 248 ,, Naumachiae, 245 ,, on an old Roman holiday, 237 Columbus, Theory of his discoveries, 191 " Comfort— No, in Italy," 173 Convents, distribute food to poor, 56 Corpus Domini, 183 Correa Theatre, 224 Cricket, "slow," in Rome, 94 Dampness, Dread of, 169 Dancing, Peasants fond of, 310 Deathbeds, 498 . Dialects, 265 Dirt is picturesque, 5 " Don Pirlone " (journal), 285 Dowiy, 493 Dreams, Interpretation of, 142 Easter benediction, 113 ,, eggs, 107 Emiliano Theatre, 274 Entrance, I Epiphany, 83 ,, Superstitions, 84 Equuleus, the, revived, 553 Etruscan relics, 307 Evenings, Summer, 313 Exercise, Caution as to, 311 Fantoccini, 277 Fees of Servants, 65 Festivals of old, 544 Fever, How to get it, 169 ,, How to avoid it, 169 Fiano Theatre, 263 Fico Theatre, 269 Field sports, 443 Figs, 385 Finances of modern Rome, 587 First Communion of girls, 89 Floralia, Relics of the, 194 Flower festival, Genzano, 193 Fontana dei Termini, 477 Fountains, 464 Franciscans, 59 French dress displacing the Italian, 76 French, Itahans "stupid" in speaking, 253 French, What they have done for Rome, 252 Fritters, 97 Funeral expenses, 504 ,, of a child, 501 ,, of Pope or Prince, 521 ,, procession, 499 Game birds, 446 Games in Rome, 117 Gatta cieca (game), 529 Ghetto, 395 ,, healthy, 406 Gleanei-s, 317 Goats, 362 Good Friday, Jew converted on, 108 Good old times, 538 Grain, Treading out, 317 Grotta Ferrata, Festival at, 99 Harvest, 302 ,, Roberts' picture of, 317 Holy Week, Romans not at St. Pe- ter's, no ,, Miserere, no Horse-races in Carnival, 452 Horses, 361 Hospital of S. Rocco, 490 Hunt, a Cardinal's, 450 Hunting parties, old, 551 Hunting, 448 Improvisation in a pothouse, 30 Italian is only bad French, 1 73 Italians are not quarrelsome, 38 Jests, Personal, kindly taken, 33 Jews, Number of, 405 ,, under Pius IX., 435 ,, confined to the Ghetto, 402 „ Taxes on, 439 ,, Baptism of converted, 406 ,, History of, in Rome, 415 ,, Homage to Popes, 423 ,, Races in the Corso, 427 Kitchen gardens, 165 Land, Leases of, 35 1 Lemonade, 175 Lent, Every Catholic must confess in, 92 INDEX. 593 Lent, Festas in, 96 Liberalia, " San Giuseppe" like, 98 Lottery numbers, 131 ,, Libro dei Sogni, 139 Lower classes, more contented than ours, 37 Madonna, Honours to, in May, 179 Maggi, May-songs, 195 Malaria, a modern evil, 371 Mancie of Servants, 65 Marcellus, Theatre of, 409 Marforio, 284 Market, Roman, excellent, 385 Markets, 377 Market, Fish, 409 ,, Fruit and vegetable, 381 Marriage, 494 Martyrs, in the Colosseum, 257 Mausoleum of Augustus, history of, 228 ,, ,, theatre, 224 ,, ,, fireworks, 534 May, ^//^ season for Rome, 171 Mimes, Masks, and Puppets, 260 Misericordia, La, 514 Moccoli in Carnival, 535 Modena, actor, 221 Monte Testaccio, 326 Morra, Game of, 118 Mystery plays in the Colosseum, 255 Nicknames, 152 North, The, to be visited in Winter, 171 Novena of the pifterari, 12 Oaths, 319 Omnivorousness, 379 Onions, 103 Operas re-christened for Rome, 215 Orange-booths, 175 Ostia, Excavations at, 342 Ottobrate, The, 326 Overbeck, 413 Palaces, Princes' of old, 540 Palestrina, Evening at, 304 „ Barberini palace At, 307 Pallone, Game of, 122 Palo, 2 Pangiallo, cake, 72 Pantomime, natural to Italians, 209 ,, ancient, 21 1 Pasquin, 283 ,, Bernini's opinion of, 283 Pasquinades, 289 Photographs, Macpherson's, 400 Piazza Navona, Degree of Dr. of, 393 ,, ,, Festival, 479 Piazza del Popolo, Games in, 529 ,, ,, Obelisk in, 464 Pifferari, 9 ,, Music played by, 583 Pilgrims in Holy Week, 105 Pisa, Illuminations at, 537 Pizzicheria-shops, decked out, 108 Play, is good for us all, 532 Poor classes, Misery of, 54 Pope, Ceremonies at death of, 517 Population of Rome, Modern, 587 ,, ,, Ancient, 363, 558 Porta Cavalleggieri, entrance by, 4 Prato, Good Friday procession at, 107 Presepio, at Ara Coeli, 74 Processions, Church, 104 Pulcinella, 261 Puns, little relished by Italians, 297 Puppet shows, 267 Rispetti, 21 Ritornelle, 25 Ristori, 219 " Roba vecchia," 396 Romans, Modern, children of the old, 80 Rome, its past ever living, 78 Ruzzola, Game of, 127 Sacconi, penitents, 63 Sacrament, sent to sick, on festas, 71 Saltarello, dance, 309 Salvini, as Othello, 221 San Carlino Theatre, Naples, 206 San Germano, 14 San Geminiano, 539 Santa Maria in Pescheria, 408 Saint Peter's, Illumination of, 115 Saturnalia, surviving traces of, 88 Self-consciousness, Italians have none, . 33 Serenades, 18 2 Q 594 INDEX. Sham battles, 549 Shambles, 378 Sheep and Shepherds, 358 vSiena, Races at, 454 Siesta, 525 Singing miiversal with lower classes, 37 Sortilegio, II, 149 Sospiri d'amore, 19 South, should be visited in summer, 172 Spagna steps. Models on, 36 Stage, Italian — its naturalness, 217 Stenterello, 263 Street Music, 9 ,, Orchestras, 15 Subterranean Rome, 331 Summer evening, 527 in the city, 524 ,, temperature, 311 Swaddling clothes, 491 Tarantella of Zia Nica, 31 Tartuffe, as played in Rome, 219 Temperature of Summer, 311 Theatres, Boxes at, 205 ,, Italians at the, 222 Tiber, Banks of the, 443 Tombola, Game of, 153 Tombs in the Via Latina, 337 Torone, candy, 72 Tor de' Specchi, 539 Tournament, 545 Trasteverini, clever improvisatori, 29 Trattoria, Do not live from a, 336 Tresette, Game of, 159 Unhealthiness of Rome denied, 165 Vails (mancie), 65 ,, expected at Christmas, 73 Valle Theatre, 216 Vashintoni and his father Vellintoni, 191 Venus lately discovered, 338 Vespasian's triumph, 409 Via Latina, 337 Via Rua, in the Ghetto, 412 Villa Livia, 340 Negroni, 163 Villeggiatura, 302 Vintage festival, 318 Wall, A saved, 48: Washerwomen, 52, 34 Water-drawing, 480 Water-melons, 383 Warm rooms condemned, 169 Wines carelessly made, 323 ,, Ancient, 224 Wine-carts, 325 Writer, Public, 399 Zeccliinetto, Game of, 157 THE END. Caxton Frmfino- JForks, Beech ^ SnBJE'JT GATAtC^rm-