Part 38

The ancient city, Sienna, from which I write, is situated upon an elevation of some thirteen hundred feet, rising from the borders of a dry and dreary tract of country. Many of the streets are narrow, and impassable for carriages. This is one of the few points in Italy I had not seen, and I make the visit on my way to Rome, for the Holy Week. Its lofty antique palaces are the monuments of its former grandeur, while a Republic and rival of France. It possessed then two hundred thousand inhabitants; the number is now reduced to twenty-five thousand. The Cathedral is a fine old structure of the 13th century, and contains many beautiful works of art. The mosaic-work of the choir is covered with planks, to shield it from the tread of visitors, but a fee to the custode enables one to see the flight of the Israelites from Egypt. The wood carving of the stalls of the choir of the 13th and 14th centuries is exquisite, but not superior to work of the same style found in the old churches of Valladolid. Some of the frescoes of Raphael, representing different events in the life of Pius II., are remarkable for their color and preservation. The choir books, of large size, on parchment, are beautifully illuminated, and resemble a collection at the Escorial. In the chapel of one of the churches, begun in 1220 and finished in 1465, is a large, beautiful, and celebrated picture of the Madonna, by Guido; the Siennese claim the honor of being the earliest in the art of painting. I was struck with the preference of the pretty women for this chapel, and was led to inquire its history. In fact, the ladies here are celebrated for their beauty. The public palace, with its lofty tower in the form of an escalop shell, and its circuit of one thousand feet, sloping down like an ancient theatre, and filled with the peasants of the country on a market-day, is a gay and novel sight.

The people of this district speak Italian with greater purity than the inhabitants of any other part of Italy--they are the reverse of the Milanese, Genoese, and Neapolitans, who have a distinct patois of their own, which tends to prevent that unanimity and nationality so much required for the future welfare of Italy.

XCV.

ROME, ITALY, _April 20, 1854_.

Once again in this old city, the mistress of the arts, and at the close of Passion Week with its gorgeous functions and church ceremonies renowned throughout the world. On two former visits, one under Pope Gregory XVI., the other under the present Pope Pius IX., I attempted to describe the magnificence and splendor exhibited on these annual festivals. It would require volumes to speak of modern, aside from ancient Rome, with its one hundred and fifty thousand population, now largely augmented by foreigners from every clime; its three hundred churches, rich in sculpture, paintings, and frescoes; its three hundred and thirty-five palaces, and thirty villas; its five hundred streets and two hundred and seventy-three lanes; its one hundred and forty-eight public piazzas or squares; its aqueducts, bridges, and twelve Egyptian obelisks, aside from its fifty public fountains, more bountifully supplied with water than perhaps any city in the world.

As to antiquities--they abound on all sides, an evidence of what Rome was in her glory, an inheritance of which she cannot be deprived, and in which now consists her chief resource. Being destitute of commerce, without the annual concourse of strangers to the seat of the Catholic church, the modern city would dwindle down to a village. I find since my last visit that the hotels have increased in number and size, and that the shops for the manufacture and sale of mosaics, cameos, and other objects of art, have been enlarged and beautified. Gas has been recently introduced to a limited extent, and telegraph communication extended to Florence north, and Naples south; but here public or government enterprise ceases. The railroad system was vetoed, the Pope’s advisers deciding against it. Beggars are as abundant as ever, and in the country pauperism is fearful. The short crops of the past year, and the over taxation of the badly administered Italian governments, drive many to mendicity from necessity. One requires leather pockets to carry copper coin in to supply the tribe, for no sooner is one hungry swarm satisfied than another as hungry arrives. This is the most disagreeable feature of Italian travel.

I came down from Sienna by post, a distance of some one hundred and twenty miles. And here, to draw a comparison in favor of our own happy country, abounding with plenty for which we cannot be sufficiently thankful, I must cite the fact that in some of the mountain villages the number of beggars was so great that the conducteur, to my horror, provided himself with a dog-whip to resist their importunities. The paper currency of the country is at a discount of seven per cent. Since the Republic an issue of a million of dollars has been made in copper coin, like large medals, of five Baiocchi, equivalent to five cents each, which in the scarcity of gold and silver enters into general circulation. We required a large sack to pay postillions. Everything is quiet here under the protection of some seven thousand troops, who may be seen daily on parade, and standing guard throughout the city; they are very civil and under good discipline. The weather has been delightful during Holy Week; the city thronged with strangers, every means of conveyance in requisition, the almost daily visits to St. Peter’s and the Vatican, with the other sights of the city, gave much animation. The heavy carriages of the cardinals, with wheels and bodies of gold and silver gilt, the famous black horses with massive gold plated harness, with two coachmen and three footmen in richly embroidered livery, added greatly to the scene. On Palm Sunday took place the presentation to the Pope of the cardinals in full regalia, bishops, priests, the noble guard, princes and foreign ministers in full costume, and the kissing of his Holiness’s slipper; then came the blessing singly of palm leaves tastefully wreathed and braided, of which some three hundred were provided for the officers and soldiers of the army who had made special application for them. The rush of thousands to witness the ceremonies of washing the feet of twelve pilgrims by the Pope in person, in St. Peter’s; their banqueting at a well furnished table in commemoration of the Last Supper; the services in the Sistine Chapel, the beautiful music of the Miserere, and the Lamentations of Jeremiah; the exhibition of the Holy Relics; the nails which it is said fastened our Saviour to the cross, some of the wood of which is shown; the handkerchief, inclosed in crystal, with which Santa Veronica wiped the face of Christ; the baptism with oil and water of a converted Jew and a negro girl at the Baptistry of Constantine, and the ceremonies of confirmation at the Basilica of San Giovanni de Laterano; all were calculated to keep up the excitement of strangers, and employ them fully during the Holy Week.

Having witnessed these ceremonies for the third time here, as also on a similar occasion at Jerusalem, with all the rites of the Greek and Latin Catholics, Armenians, and Copts, not omitting the extravagant exercises of Spain, Peru, and the island of Cuba, the scenes have become so familiar that I cannot describe to you the gorgeous display under the same impressions as formerly. Still it must be admitted that high mass on Sunday, at the close of the week, the Pope officiating in person in the vast edifice of St. Peter’s, in full pontifical robes and jewelled mitre, surrounded by thirty or forty cardinals, with a host of bishops and other members of the clergy, in their rich attire; the temporary loges festooned with red damask drapery fringed with gold, and occupied by the Princes of Prussia, Saxony, and France, in uniform; the Swiss Guards, with helmets and coats of mail; hundreds of the fair sex in black church dresses; hundreds of soldiers with fixed bayonets, and again other thousands of the masculine race in dress coats and white kid gloves--the whole together presents perhaps the most dazzling group of court, religious, and the military display in the world. At the close of high mass the Pope, in his pontifical chair, supported upon the shoulders of twelve bearers in red silk costume, with a brilliant cortege, is carried to the balcony of St. Peter’s in the presence of the expectant multitude of some fifty thousand persons, composed in part of cavalry and infantry. The vast square as I saw it from the top of the colonnade was one dense mass of humanity; heads were uncovered during the brief service, then the whole multitude at a given signal fell upon their knees, and the benediction was pronounced. The bells of all Rome send forth their merry peals, the thundering cannon of St. Angelo roar along the Tiber, and the crowd disperse. The evening illumination of the cathedral St. Peter’s with its immense façade of colonnades, and three domes brilliantly lighted as if by magic, with eight thousand lamps, closed the ceremonies and sights of the week. The exhibition of fireworks took place the next evening, with fine effect, at the Porto del Popolo, one of the gates of the city. The former Girandolo from the Castle of San Angelo, representing the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, when the waters of the Tiber seemed in flames, was a magnificent spectacle.

I have never seen so many strangers in Rome as during the past Holy Week. My last visit was during the European revolution of 1848, which prevented general travel; we have visitors now, however, from all countries, though fewer Russians than usual. The Coliseum has become a great resort by moonlight; groups of ladies and gentlemen may be seen climbing its old and antiquated walls, or wending their way through its melancholy corridors by torchlight, which has a happy effect, bringing out their beauties more boldly, and hiding the deformities and decay visible by daylight. While standing upon the heights of this vast ruin, whose broken walls have contributed to the erection of many of the palaces of Rome, and reflecting that sufficient material remains for the construction of a small town, one cannot but be struck with the grandeur and power of the former in comparison with the present fallen race. While figuring to myself the grand and imposing spectacle of the mammoth amphitheatre, under the patronage of the Roman emperors, filled with the élite of the city, during the gladiatorial contests, and the combats of the wild beasts, rushing out from their dens in the vast arena, I could find no better comparison in miniature for the enthusiasm of the multitude in the well filled galleries, than that which is shown at the barbarous bull fights of Spain and Peru; the ancients, however, carried off the palm for brutality by throwing the innocent Christians among the wild beasts. The stranger in Rome, however fastidious, may have his taste gratified, and his time constantly occupied here, after repeated visits; his labors for the first trip may be pleasant to the mind and refreshing to the eye, but they are arduous.

The long picture galleries and avenues of statuary of the palaces, the suburban drives to the various villas, as well as the villages Frascati, Albano, and the falls of Tivoli, with the picturesque costume of the peasants, all afford variety.

The antiquarian strolls among the triumphal arches of the Roman emperors, the broken columns of the Forum, or wanders among the ruins of the palaces of Nero and Cæsar, and the baths of Caracalla. When the eye tires with the sight of marbles, bronzes, or the interior decorations of churches, which are perfect museums of fine arts, by the old masters, one can mount the dome of Peter’s, or the Campidolio tower, and grasp the seven hills of ancient and modern Rome, with all their beauties and all their deformities, not forgetting one pretty spot which it is profitable to visit, and where, under the shady willows and rosebuds of the Strangers’ Cemetery, he can read the epitaphs of his friends or countrymen whose career is ended.

XCVI.

NAPLES, ITALY, _May 12, 1854_.

I came to this city over a route which I once had occasion to describe to you, passing through Albano, the pleasant summer resort of the Romans, and crossing the once much dreaded pestilential Pontine marshes which have been improved by drainage. I spent a night at Terracina, the frontier coast town of the Pope’s dominions, passed Gaeta the following day, where his Holiness was exiled under the protection of the King of Naples, during his political troubles, and found myself here within forty-eight hours, from Rome, after three searchings of my luggage and five examinations of my passports.

You will naturally ask, “How have you passed your time on a third visit to Naples?” The question is easily answered. The half a million of population of this city and its suburbs is a study in itself. The race of lazzaroni deserve special attention; the beautiful garden, Villa Reale, with its fountains and statuary, on the borders of the bay, now abounding in foliage and flowers, is an agreeable retreat for those who occupy the large and commodious hotels which overlook these grounds. Or there is a ride along the coast to the ruins of Baiæ, the Grotto Pozzoli, or a quiet stroll through the grounds of Prince Roca Romano, an old gentleman of much taste who devotes his entire time to the embellishment of his villa, and is very civil to strangers. Aside from its beautiful position on the bay, its arbors, flowers, and tropical fruits, it has a collection of rare birds and animals, also a miniature museum, where I found preserved the Eyeless Fish from the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, the gift of an American. The grottoes excavated on the margin of the sea are adorned with statuary and lighted on festival occasions; they contain a goodly number of flying fish of a bluish color, which are regularly fed, and of larger size than those found for sale in the markets of Curaçoa. A steamboat excursion to the island of Capri, to visit the Blue Grotto, occupies a day. The steamer lies off and on the rock; the passengers in small boats enter through the narrow opening at a favorable state of the tide. Sitting in the boat the hat touches the rock, so small is the entrance. One is struck with the beautiful mercurial-like color of the vaulted natural roof, and the great depth of the azure and limpid water. The boatmen for a fee throw themselves in, and to all appearance come out dripping with shining quicksilver.

Mount Vesuvius is now quiet. Having on a former visit ascended the summit and descended one thousand feet to the verge of the boiling crater, and with difficulty (from a change of wind) regained the point of descent, suffering from the inhalation of the sulphurous vapor, with boots burnt off, I had no desire to renew my acquaintance with it. I joined a party of ladies to visit the Hermitage about midway to the top of the volcanic mountain, where an excellent view of Naples and the valley is obtained, and a good idea is formed of the rolling action of the lava in its destructive descent upon the plain, and also of the fertility of the gardens which are formed from decomposed lava and cinders, and which produce the Lacrima Christi wine, which here enters in as part of a cold collation. A melancholy accident has just occurred. A young German gentleman, who breakfasted at our hotel in full health the morning of his ascent to Vesuvius, was brought down a corpse. While on the summit a small portion of the earth gave way and he was precipitated down the chasm; his cries were heard by his companions for an hour, but before cords could be obtained from below he had ceased to breathe. A few days may be spent profitably and delightfully in visiting the ancient cities of Pæstum and Salerno, and the villages of Amalfi, Minori, and Majori, all lying on the sea-coast. Things have changed since I first trod the silent streets of Pompeii; then it really appeared like the city of the dead. Many excavations have since been made, the results of which are mostly to be found in the Great Museum of Naples; now the railroad passes by, and the station of Pompeii is an important one. If those who still sleep under the cinders and lava of these entombed cities could awake to the shrill whistle and hoarse cough of the locomotive, they would be as much startled by them as they were by the fiery flames and ashes of Vesuvius. Invalided sentinels are quartered to protect the relics of antiquity from the ruthless hand of travellers. Many gates are to be opened, and of course the purse strings must be frequently unloosened. The ride along the railway to Castelmare passes through a number of sailing ports. The rock excavation gives a good idea of the quality and variety of lava as it rolls down to the bay.

The drive from Castelmare to Sorrento is most picturesque. The views of the Bay of Naples, and the islands of Capri, Ischia, and Procida, from bold rocky cliffs surrounded by orange groves, which abound here, have been much extolled, and I was almost inclined to become as enthusiastic as others, as I listened to the harp players, and watched the graceful forms of the peasants in the national tarantula dance.

The anniversary or festival of the patron saint of Massa, a small village across the mountain, took place while I was here, so, mounting a donkey, I found myself, preceded by about a dozen priests in black robes and three-cornered hats, mounted like myself, with boys beating the sides of the stupid animals. Our train was considerably augmented by peasant boys and girls in holiday costume trudging along, and we finally found ourselves in the square of the parochial church, which presented the appearance of a fair.

The temporary booths were supplied with all the eatables and drinkables requisite. The countrymen occupied their time in the examination of goats, sheep, and pigs, and in making sundry purchases, while the villagers and country lasses, with tidy white veils, were listening to a full military band playing church music during high mass. The priests of the surrounding villages were in full regalia, and the interior of the building was hung in red drapery fringed with gold leaf borders. Small cannon were mounted for a grand volley, which was given, after which these simple people returned home as much enchanted as if they had witnessed the pompous ceremonies of Rome, and heard the thundering cannon of San Angelo. My boy had loaded the donkey’s head with rosaries of stringed filberts and chestnuts, which fruit were much sought after by those who had not attended the festival.

The royal residence of the king at Caserta is well worth a visit, and easily reached by railroad. It is fourteen miles from Naples; the king spends most of his time here. The palace is one of the most extensive in Europe; the interior, aside from a few of the saloons and the staircase, is not remarkable. The grounds, gardens, and parks are eleven miles in circumference; they are well supplied with water, which is brought twenty-seven miles by aqueduct, forming some beautiful cascades. The soil is rich and fertile, and the Botanical and Horticultural Gardens very fine. In many respects I was strongly reminded of the royal grounds of the Court of Spain at La Granja, but the fountains here, and statues in marble and bronze, will not compare with similar works there.

The military force of the kingdom of Naples is one hundred thousand men. There are three regiments of cavalry and infantry stationed at Caserta, and soldiery and sentinels may be found at all points where one goes. The police are very rigid. For instance I retired to bed early the night of my arrival; at eleven P.M. I was roused by a rap at the door; I asked what was wanted; a peremptory order was given to open; I struck a light, and in marched two officers in uniform, who inquired if I had a passport. I replied in the negative, my passport being in the hands of the authorities at Naples. “Have you a _Carta di Segiorno_?” or permit; fortunately I had provided myself with one, or I should have been marched off to the Carcel. I was then questioned as to the object of my visit, and how long I intended to stay, all of which was exceedingly vexatious.

The flower and fruit season is fairly opened, and the sun begins to make one look for a shady spot. The glare of light is fatiguing to the eyes, and as I am a sufferer I shall make my way north to Genoa and Turin.

I shall take the steamer, notwithstanding the recent frightful accident and loss of the Ercolano from this place, caused by collision with the Siciliano, whereby forty-nine passengers and crew, in a few minutes, at midnight, were sent into eternity. It is attributed to gross carelessness, for it was proved that not an officer was on the deck of the Siciliano when she struck the unfortunate steamer. The culprits are in prison awaiting their trial. Many persons are now going north by land, but without doubt the caution now exercised will for some time at least make steam travel safer.

XCVII.

TURIN, KINGDOM OF SARDINIA, _June 5, 1854_.

Our steamer was a French one, and the commander having reputation for skill and caution, the little boat of two hundred and twenty horse power was inundated with passengers from Civita and Leghorn.

It was ridiculous but amusing to notice the rigor of the Neapolitan police. At the quay, before embarking, one has to have his baggage examined, or to slyly slip a piece of coin into the hands of the sentinel; then he passes to the office and gets a permit to embark, notwithstanding that his passport has already been _visé_ by his own minister, the Neapolitan Minister of Foreign Affairs, the Inspector of the Marine, and a permit de sejour has been granted previously--all of which costs several dollars, for the benefit of the Neapolitan officials.

Once on board, you suppose yourself clear of the annoyance; but it is not so. Another scene of counting heads and calling names, to be sure that none are on board without being regularly labelled.

Our boat had arrived from Sicily, and what with Sicilian and Neapolitan passengers, every berth was occupied.

After leaving the bay of Naples, the sea was sufficient to quiet many passengers, and to give a seat at table, which by right could be retained. The following day, at Civita Vecchia, there came a rush of passengers from Rome, on their way to Leghorn and Florence. Fortunately the weather was fine, with a quiet sea; had it been otherwise, with hatches down, those below would have suffocated. Tents were pitched for the ladies on deck, and mattresses scattered about for the gentlemen. Such a democratic party of one hundred and thirty-seven passengers I had not met lately. It comprised a French consul and his family, and Greek servants, from Turkey, Italian counts and countesses, marquises, Spanish generals, English nobility, North and South Americans, German and other travellers, with all the dialects and tongues of Babel.

In such cases most parties are willing to conform to circumstances, although those who embarked first with us had great reason to complain of the abuse of the directors. The first breakfast was at nine, and dinner at four, and those who had to wait for the second and third tables were to be pitied.

At Leghorn we remained ten hours, and received as many passengers as we had landed; so our condition was not much improved.

My trip was just the opposite of one which I made last winter from France to the island of Sardinia, on board of a steamer of great size, when I occupied the entire cabin, the commander being my only table companion.