The system of silent legal opposition which was carried on formerly at Milan, and now at Venice, is being organised here against the Papal rule. By one of those mystical compacts to which I have before alluded, it has been resolved to suppress smoking and lottery-gambling. Our anti-tobacconists, or our moral reformers, must not suppose that the Romans have suddenly become alive to the iniquity of either of these pursuits. I wish, indeed, with regard to the latter, I could conscientiously assert that the Liberal faction had decreed its extinction from any conviction of the degradation and corruption inflicted by it upon their country. I fear, however, from the extent to which lotteries are still encouraged by the Tuscan Government, that such is not the case. The reason of the movement is, indeed, a very simple and material one. From the lotteries and the tobacco monopoly the government derives a very large part of its revenues, and a part, too, which does not excite unpopularity in the same way as direct taxation. Any extinction, therefore, or indeed any serious diminution of these sources of revenue, would place the Holy See in great difficulties. The profits on the lottery go directlyinto the pockets of the Government, who are also supplied with very extensive and important patronage by the vast number of petty posts which the system employed for collecting tickets places at their disposal. The tobacco monopoly is farmed out to a company, on whom any loss would fall in the first instance; but if the abstention from tobacco were continued long, the Government would soon feel the effects, through the inability of the company to keep up their present rate of payment.
Whether rightly or wrongly, an attempt to cut off the funds of the Papal exchequer in this manner is certainly being made. Strangers, of course, are not interfered with; but Italians are warned at the doors of the cigar-shops and the lottery-offices not to enter and buy. The sudden diminution in the number of people you meet smoking in the streets is quite remarkable, and, I am sure, would strike any observer who had never heard of the movement. There have been already several disturbances between smokers and non-smokers. The story goes, that in a quarrel arising out of this subject, a man was stabbed in the street the night before last; but in Rome it is almost impossible to make outthe truth in a matter of this kind. At several lottery-offices gendarmes have been placed to hinder purchasers of tickets from being molested; and a bitter feeling seems growing up on every side. How long the Romans may have strength of mind enough to abstain from their favourite amusements of smoking and gambling, it is impossible to say; but since I witnessed their resolute abstention from the delights of the Carnival, I think better of their courage than I did before.
On Sunday evening, when the great promenade takes place along the Corso, where, a week ago, there was hardly a male mouth without a cigar or cheroot or cigarette inserted in it, I only noticed four smokers in the Corso crowd, and they were all foreigners. The practice is suppressed not only in the streets but in the cafés. For the benefit of the weaker brethren, who cannot screw up their patriotism to total abstinence, pipes are allowed, as the Government profit on tobacco is very small compared with that on cigars. The Italians, however, are not much of pipe-smokers, and the tobacconists are in despair at the total absence of customers. Of course, the partisans of the Governmentprophesy that the movement will end in smoke, but at present the laugh is on the other side.
The Society for the Suppression of Smoking, who by the way send their tracts to the reading-rooms here, of all places in the world, will regret to learn that the Roman Anti-Tobacco Crusade is to expire on and after Sunday next. The leaders of the liberal party have, I think, acted wisely in contenting themselves with an exhibition of their union and power and then withdrawing from the contest. The loss to the Government by the discontinuance of smoking was only an indirect and eventual one; on the other hand, the company, who farm the Tobacco monopoly, would have been ruined by the progress of the movement, and had already been obliged to dismiss a large proportion of their work-people. The tobacconists and street-hawkers of cigars were deprived of their livelihood, and the misery and consequent ill-will created amongst the poor of Rome by keeping up the prohibition would have been serious. Then, too, perhaps it was thought advisable not to impose too heavy a trial on patriotic ardour. Smoke is meat anddrink to a Roman, his first care in the morning, his occupation by day, and his last thought at night. Yet you may truly say, that during the time of its prohibition the whole city willingly gave up smoking. If, in order to testify political dissatisfaction, the whole of London were to leave off beer-drinking by private agreement, the expression of feeling would be hardly a more remarkable one.
The feast of San Giuseppe is the onlyfestaday in Lent, when the Romans eat fried fish in honour of the occasion,—St Joseph alone knows why. Henceforth the day will have other and less pleasing associations. The garland-wreathed stalls, with the open ovens and the frizzling fritters, were reared as usual at every corner; the shops were closed; theosteriaswere full; the streets were crowded with holiday-people in holiday-attire, and the day was warm and bright like an early summer-day in England, though it was only the 19th of March. The news of the Romagna elections, with their overwhelming majority in favour of annexation to Sardinia, had been just received in Rome with general exultation. No doubt the festive appearance which marked the city throughout the day was not altogether accidental, but was meant for, andregarded as, an expression of public sympathy with the revolted provinces. St Joseph happens to be the patron saint of the two great Italian popular heroes, Garibaldi and Mazzini, and a demonstration on this day was therefore considered to be in honour of the Three Josephs, the Saint and his two protegés. It was known generally that the adherents of the Liberal party would muster, as usual, on the Porta Pia road, and that the more courageous partizans of the popular cause would be distinguished by wearing a violet in their button-holes.
The Government had, it seems, decided that even these tacit expressions of disaffection must be suppressed at all costs. With a happy irony of cruelty which appears to distinguish a priestly despotism above every other, the holiday of St Joseph was chosen as the opportunity for striking terror into the hearts of the disloyal Romans; and as the policy which sent out the executioner to excite the populace had not been crowned with its coveted success, it was resolved to create a collision between the police and the people. In the morning, five Roman gentlemen of position and fortune, suspected of sympathy with the liberal cause, received notice that they were exiledfrom the Papal States, and must leave the city within twenty-four hours. Amongst these gentlemen was St Angeli, who, not long ago, was arrested and imprisoned without charge or trial, and who was but lately released on the remonstrance of the French authorities. There was also Count Silverstrelli, a brother of the gentleman of that name so well known to English sportsmen at Rome. The news of these arrests did not check the proposed demonstration. Towards four o’clock a considerable number of carriages and persons on foot assembled outside the gates on the Via Nomentana; some patrols, however, of French soldiers were found to be stationed along the road; and as it is the great object of the liberal leaders at Rome to avoid any possibility even of collision between the people and the French troops, it was resolved to adjourn the place of assemblage to the Corso. Whether this was a thought suggested on the moment, or whether it was the result of a preconcerted plan, is a mooted question not likely to be decided; the resolution, however come to, was acted on at once. Neither here, nor elsewhere, I may observe, was there anything of a tumultuous crowd, or the slightest apparent approach to agitationon the part of the multitude. All a spectator could observe was, that the carriages turned homewards somewhat nearer to the gates than usual, and that the stream of people who sauntered idly along the footpath, as on any otherfestaday, set out earlier than they are wont to do on their return to the city.
About six o’clock the crowd from the Porta Pia had reassembled in the Corso. Six o’clock is always the fullest time in that street; private carriages are coming back from the Pincio promenade, and strangers are driving back to their hotels from the rounds of sight-seeing. The Corso, without doubt, was unusually and densely crowded; the footpaths swarmed with passengers, and, what was peculiarly galling to the Government, after the failure of the Carnival, there was a double line of aristocratic carriages passing up and down; still everything was perfectly peaceable and orderly. At the hour of theAve Mariathe crowd was at its fullest, and this was the time selected for the outrage. In a scene of general terror and confusion it is impossible to ascertain exact details of the order in which events occurred, but I believe the following account is fairly exact.
There were a great number of the Pontifical police, orsbirri, as the Romans call them, scattered in knots of two or three about the Corso; there were also several mounted patrols of the Papal gendarmes. The police did everything in their power to excite the people, hustled the crowd in every direction, used the most opprobrious epithets, and pushed their way along with insulting gestures. There are various stories afloat as to the immediate cause of the outbreak; one, that as a patrol passed the crowd hissed; another, that a cry was heard of “Viva Vittorio Emmanuele!” and a third, the Papal version, that on a young man of the name of Barberi being asked by a gendarme why he wore a violet flower on his coat, he answered rudely, and, on the officer trying to arrest him, his comrades pulled him away. All stories agree, that the provocation to the police was given in the Piazza Colonna; and the disturbance, if any, was so trivial, that a friend of mine, who was on the spot at the time, perceived nothing of it, and only fancies he heard a murmur as the police rode by. The provocation, whatever it was, was sufficient as a pretext for the premeditated outrage. Thesbirridrew their swords, and slashingright and left, charged the dense crowds of men, women and children. The word was given, and a band of some twenty Papal dragoons, who had been drawn up hard by at the Monte Citorio, waiting under arms for the signal, galloped down the Corso, clearing their way with drawn swords. Thesbirrialong the street pulled out their cutlass-knives; the dragoons rode on the footway, and struck out at the carriages filled with ladies as they passed by, while the police ran a-muck (I can use no other word) amongst the terror-stricken crowd. The cries of the crushed and wounded, the terror of the women, and the savage, brutal fury of the police, added to the panic and confusion of the scene. Not the slightest attempt at resistance was made by the unarmed crowd; in a few minutes the Corso was cleared as if by magic, and order reigned in Rome.
Short as the time was, the havoc wrought was very considerable. Nearer two than one hundred persons were injured in all. Of course the greater number of these persons were not actually wounded, but crushed, or stunned, or thrown down. There was no respect of persons in the use made of their swords by the police.Three French officers of the 40th, who were in plain clothes amongst the crowd, were cut down and severely wounded. An Irish gentleman, the brother of the member for Fermanagh, narrowly escaped a sabre-cut by dodging behind a pillar. The son of Prince Piombino was pursued by a gendarme beneath the gateway of his own palace, and only got off with his hat slit right in two. Persons were hunted down by the soldiery even out of the Corso. One gentleman, an Italian, was chased up the Via Condotti by a dragoon with his sword drawn, and saved himself from a sabre-cut by taking refuge in a passage. Some of the dragoons rode down the Via Ripetta, when they had come to the top of the Corso, and cut down a woman who was passing by. As soon as the Corso was cleared, the gendarmes went into the different cafés along the street, and ordered all persons, who were found in them, to go home at once. In one case an infirm old man, who could not make off fast enough, had his face cut open by a sabre-blow; while the backs of the gendarmes’ swords were used plentifully to expedite the departure of the café frequenters. The exact number of wounded it is of course impossible to ascertain. Persons whoreceived injuries were afraid to show themselves, and still more to call attention to their injuries, for fear of being arrested for disaffection and immured in prison. If I believed the stories I heard on good authority and on most positive assurance, I should put down the number of persons who died from wounds or injuries received during the mêlée at from twelve to fifteen. Still, long experience has led me to place very little reliance on any Roman story I cannot test; and I am bound to say, I could not sift any one of these stories to the bottom. On the other hand, this fact by no means causes me to disbelieve that fatal injuries may have been received. The extreme difficulty, if not impossibility, of obtaining true information on such a point may be realized from the circumstance, that a government official was, within my knowledge, dismissed from his post for merely visiting one of the victims who had been wounded by the police. By all accounts, even by that of the Papal partizans, the number of severe injuries inflicted was very considerable; indeed it is impossible it should have been otherwise, when one considers that along a street so crowded that the carriages could only move at a foot’space, the gendarmes on horse and foot charged recklessly, cutting at every one they could reach. In my statement, however, of the casualties, I have sought to assert, not what I believe, but only what (as far as one can speak with certainty of what one did not actually see) I know to be the truth.
The worst part of the whole story, in my opinion, was the subsequent conduct of the Government. These outrages, which might have been excused as the result of an unforeseen disturbance, obtained in cold blood the deliberate sanction of the Vatican. The Papal gendarmes received the personal acknowledgments of the Pope for their conduct. The six horsemen who distinguished themselves by clearing the Piazza Colonna were promoted for their services, and all the police on duty that day received extra pay. With unusual promptitude, in fact not more than a week after the event, theGiornale di Romacontained an official statement of the occurrence. After alleging that hitherto they had considered the unpleasant event of too small importance to deserve notice, they proceed to give the following narrative.
“On Monday, the 19th instant, in the courseof the afternoon, the revolutionary faction proposed to make a demonstration in the Corso against the Pontifical Government, by an assemblage of persons hired for the express purpose. On the discovery of these designs, fitting arrangements were made in concert with the French police; and the French troops, as well as the Papal gendarmes, were drawn up, so that in case of need they might suppress any disturbance whatever.“In fact, about five o’clock in the afternoon crowds were formed in the streets, directed by leaders, and amongst these leaders were two hide-tanners, whom the gendarmes arrested with promptitude. The crowd, thus raked together, then began to hoot at and insult the gendarmes, and at last attempted to rescue the prisoners. Not succeeding in this attempt, the rioters, whose numbers had now been swollen by a lot of idle fellows from the vilest rabble, crowded together into the Piazza Colonna, and continued to outrage the officers of public justice with every kind of insult. Thereupon a handful of police advanced courageously against the rioters, and proved quite sufficient to disperse and rout them.“The friends of order applauded the gallant gendarmes in the execution of their duty. In less than an hour the most perfect quiet reigned around, and in the affray a very few persons were injured, whose injuries have proved to be of slight consequence.”
“On Monday, the 19th instant, in the courseof the afternoon, the revolutionary faction proposed to make a demonstration in the Corso against the Pontifical Government, by an assemblage of persons hired for the express purpose. On the discovery of these designs, fitting arrangements were made in concert with the French police; and the French troops, as well as the Papal gendarmes, were drawn up, so that in case of need they might suppress any disturbance whatever.
“In fact, about five o’clock in the afternoon crowds were formed in the streets, directed by leaders, and amongst these leaders were two hide-tanners, whom the gendarmes arrested with promptitude. The crowd, thus raked together, then began to hoot at and insult the gendarmes, and at last attempted to rescue the prisoners. Not succeeding in this attempt, the rioters, whose numbers had now been swollen by a lot of idle fellows from the vilest rabble, crowded together into the Piazza Colonna, and continued to outrage the officers of public justice with every kind of insult. Thereupon a handful of police advanced courageously against the rioters, and proved quite sufficient to disperse and rout them.
“The friends of order applauded the gallant gendarmes in the execution of their duty. In less than an hour the most perfect quiet reigned around, and in the affray a very few persons were injured, whose injuries have proved to be of slight consequence.”
Throughout the whole of this document thesuppressio verireigns supreme. It is ludicrous describing theémeuteas an event unworthy of special mention, when rewards and praises have been heaped by the Government on the heroes who distinguished themselves in the suppression of this contemptible fracas. In a city like Rome a crowd which filled the whole Corso’s length cannot be described as a faction, while the occupants of the aristocratic carriages which lined both sides of the street are not likely to have had two hide-tanners for their leaders. The size of the crowd disposes at once of the idea that the persons who composed it were bribed to be present; and the attempt to identify the action of the French troops with that of the Papal gendarmes, is upset by the plain and simple fact, that the French patrols were on the Porta Pia road, and not in the Corso at all. Indeed, if the whole matter was not tooserious to laugh at, there would be something actually comical in the notion of the friends of order, or any person in their senses, stopping to applaud the gendarmes as they trampled their way through the helpless, screaming, terror-stricken crowd, striking indiscriminately at friend or foe. The statement has this value, and this value only, that it gives the formal approval of the Government to the brutal outrages of the Papal police.
For a time the Pro-Papal party were in a state of high exultation. A popular demonstration had been suppressed by a score or so of Pontifical troops. The stock stories about the cowardice of the Italians were revived, and the more intemperate partizans of the Government asserted that the support of the French army was no longer needed, and that the Pope would shortly be able to rely for protection on his own troops alone. There was in these exultations a certain sad amount of truth. I am no blind admirer of the Romans, and I freely admit that no high-spirited crowd would have submitted to be cut down by a mere handful of gendarmes. I admit, too, that this blood-letting stopped for the time the fashion of demonstrations.It is however at best a doubtful compliment to a government that it has succeeded in crushing the spirit and energy of a nation; but to this compliment, I fear, the Papal rule is only too well entitled. “The lesson given on St Joseph’s day,” so wrote the organ of the Papacy in Paris, “has profited;” how, and to whom, time will show. Hardly, I think; at any rate, to the religion of love and mercy, or to those who preach its doctrines, and enforce its teachings by lessons such as this.
Far away among the Sabine hills, right up the valley of the Teverone, as the Romans now-a-days call the stream which once bore the name of Anio, hard by the mountain frontier-land of Naples, lies the little town of Subiaco. I am not aware that of itself this out-of-the-world nook possesses much claim to notice. Antiquarians, indeed, visit it to search after the traces of a palace, where Nero may or may not have dwelt. Students of ecclesiastical lore make pilgrimages thereto, to behold the famous convent of the Santo Speco, the home of the Benedictine order. In summer-time the artists in Rome wander out here to take shelter from the burning heat of the flat Campagna land, and to sketch the wild Salvator Rosa scenery which hems in the town on every side. I cannot say, however, that it was love of antiquities or divinity,or even scenery, which led my steps Subiaco-wards. The motive of my journey was of a less elevated and more matter-of-fact character. Some few days beforehand a yellow play-bill-looking placard caught my eye as I strolled down the Corso. A perusal of its contents informed me, that on the approaching feast-day of St Benedict there was to be held at Subiaco the great annualFesta e fiera. Many and various were the attractions offered. There was to be a horse-race, atombola, or open lottery, an illumination, display of fire-works, high mass, and, more than all, a public procession, in which the sacred image of San Benedetto was to be carried from the convent to the town. Such a bill of fare was irresistible, even had there not been added to it the desire to escape from the close muggy climate of Rome into the fresh mountain-air,—a desire whose intensity nothing but a long residence here can enable one to appreciate.
Subiaco is some forty odd miles from Rome, and amongst the petty towns of the Papal States is a place of some small importance. The means, however, of communication with the metropolis are of the scantiest. Two or three times a week a sort of Italianeil-wagen, a funereal andtumble-down, flea-ridden coach, with windows boarded up so high that, when seated, you cannot see out of them, and closed hermetically, after Italian fashion, shambles along at jog-trot pace between the two towns, and takes a livelong day, from early morning to late at night, to perform the journey. Other public mode of transit there is none; and therefore, not having patience for the diligence, I had to travel in a private conveyance, and if there had been any one else going from the fair to Rome, which there was not, they must perforce have done the same. As to the details of the journey, and the scenery through which you pass, are they not written in the book of Murray, wherein whoso likes may read them? It is enough for me to note one or two facts which tell their own story. Throughout the forty and odd miles of the road I traversed, I never passed through a single village or town, with the exception of Tivoli; and between that town and Rome, a distance of some twenty miles, never even caught sight of one. After Tivoli, when the road enters the mountains, there are a dozen small towns or so, all perched on the summits of high hills, under which the road winds in passing. Detachedhouses or cottages there are, as a rule, none—certainly not half a dozen in all—the whole way along. There was little appearance of traffic anywhere. A few rough carts, loaded with charcoal or wood for the Roman markets; strings of mules, almost buried beneath high piles of brushwood, which were swung pannier-wise across their backs; and a score of peasant-farmers mounted on shaggy cart-horses, and jogging towards the fair, constituted the way-bill of the road. The mountain slopes were apparently altogether barren, or at any rate uncultivated. In the plain of the valley, bearing traces of recent inundation from the brook-torrent which ran alongside the road in strange zig-zag windings, were a number of poorly tilled fields, half covered with stones. The season was backward, and I could see no trace of anything but hard, fruitless labour; and the peasants, who were working listlessly, seemed unequal to the labour of cultivating such unprofitable lands. Personally the men were a vigorous race enough, but the traces of the malaria fever, the sunken features and livid complexion, were painfully common; their dress too was worn ragged and meagre, while the boys working in the fields constantly left their work to beg as Ipassed by, a fact which, considering how little frequented this district is by travellers, struck me unpleasantly. With my English recollections of what going to the fair used to be, I looked but in vain for farmers’ carts or holiday-dressed foot-folk going towards Subiaco. I did not meet one carriage of any description, except the diligence without a passenger, and could not have guessed, from the few knots of peasants I passed, that there was anything unusual going on in what I suppose I might call the county town of the district.
By the time I reached Subiaco, the first day of the fair was at its height. The topography of the place is of the simplest description,—a narrow street running up a steep hill, with a small market-place; on the summit stands a church; half a dozencul-de-sacalleys on the right, terminated by the wall that hems in the river at their feet; a long series of broken steps on the left, leading to a dilapidated castle, where the Legate ought to reside, but does not; such are the main features of the town. In fact, if you fancy Snow Hill, Holborn, shrunk to about a quarter of its width, all its houses reduced to much such a condition as that gauntcorner-building which for years past has excited my ungratified curiosity; Newgate gaol replaced by the façade of a dingy Italian church; the dimensions of the locale considerably diminished; and a small section of the dark alleys between the prison and Farringdon Street, bounded by the Fleet-ditch uncovered; you will have a very fair impression of the town of Subiaco.
The fair, such as it was, was confined to this High Street and to the little square at its head. The street was filled with people, chiefly men, bartering at the doors of the un-windowed shops. A very small crowd would fill so small a place, but I think there could hardly have been less than a thousand persons. Cutlery and hosiery of the rudest kind seemed to be the great articles of commerce. There were, of course, an office of the Pontifical Lottery, which was always crammed, an itinerant vendor of quack medicines and a few scattered stalls (not a single booth by the way), where shoes and caps and pots and pans and the “wonderful adventures of St Balaam” were sold by hucksters of Jewish physiognomy. Lean, black-bristled pigs ran at every step between your legs, and young kids, slung across their owners’ shoulders with their heads downwards, bleatedpiteously. The only sights of a private description were a series of deformed beggars, drawn in go-carts, and wriggling with the most hideous contortions; but the fat woman, and the infant with two heads, and the learned dog, whom I had seen in all parts of Europe, were nowhere to be found. There was not even an organ boy or a hurdy-gurdy. Music, alas! like prophecy, has no honour in its own country. The crowd was of a very humble description; the number of bonnets or hats visible might be counted on one’s fingers, and the fancy peasant costumes of which Subiaco is said to be the great rendezvous, were scarcely more in number. There was very little animation apparent of any kind, very little of gesticulation, or still less of shouting; indeed the crowd, to do them justice, were perfectly quiet and orderly, for a holiday crowd almost painfully so. The party to which I belonged, and which consisted of four Englishmen, all more or less attired in those outlandish costumes which none but Englishmen ever wear, and no Englishman ever dreams of wearing in his own country, excited no comment whatever, and scarcely attracted a passing glance. Fancy what the effect would be of four bloused and bearded Frenchmenstrolling arm-in-arm through a village wake in an out-of-the-way English county? By the time I had strolled through the fair, the guns, or rather two most dilapidated old fowling-pieces, were firing as a signal for the race. The horses were the same as those run at the Carnival races in Rome, and as the only difference was, that the course, besides being over hard slippery stones, was also up a steep hill-street, and the race therefore somewhat more cruel, I did not wait to see the end, but wandered up the valley to hear the vespers at the convent of the Santo Speco. I should have been sorry to have missed the service. Through a number of winding passages, up flights of narrow steps, and by terrace-ledges cut from the rock, over which I passed, and overhanging the river-side, I came to a vault-like chapel with low Saracenic arches and quaint old, dark recesses, and a dim shadowy air of mystery. Round the candle-lighted altar, standing out brightly from amidst the darkness, knelt in every posture some seventy monks; and ever and anon the dreary nasal chanting ceased, and a strain of real music burst from out the hidden choir, rising and dying fitfully. The whole scene was beautiful enough; but,—what a pitythere should be a “but” in everything,—when you came to look on the scene in the light of a service, the charm passed away. There were plenty of performers but no audience; the congregation consisted of four peasant-women, two men, and a child in arms. The town below was crowded. The service was one of the chief ones in the year, but somehow or other the people stopped away.
When the music was over, I was shown through the convent. There were, as usual, the stock marvels: a hole through which you looked and beheld a—shall I call it sacred?—picture of Satan with horns and hoof complete; a small plot of ground, where used to grow the thorns on which St Benedict was wont to roll himself in order to quench the desires of manhood, and where now grow the roses into which St Francis transformed the said thorns, in honour of his brother saint. The monk who showed me the building talked much about the misery of the surrounding poor. At the convent’s foot lies a little wood of dark green ilexes, of almost unknown age, valued on account of some tradition about St Benedict, and perhaps still more as forming a kind of oasis on the barren, bare mountain-side. Armed guards have tobe placed at night around this wood, to save it from the depredations of the peasantry; every tree belonging to the convent and not guarded was sure to be cut down. No one, so my informant told me, would believe the sums of money the convent had spent of late on charity, and how for this purpose even their daily supplies of food had been curtailed; but alas! it was only like pouring water into a sieve, for the people were poorer than ever. I own that when the old priest pointed out the number of churches and convents you could see in the valley below, and spoke, with regret, of the time when there were twelve convents round Subiaco alone, I felt that the cause of this hopeless misery was not far to seek, though hard to remedy.
On my way homewards to the town I beheld the half dozen sky-rockets which composed the display of fire-works, and also the two rows of oil-lamps on the cornices over the church-door, which formed the brilliant illuminations. Neither sight seemed to collect much crowd or create much excitement. As the dusk came on the streets emptied fast, and by night-time the town was almost deserted; and, except that the wine-shops were still filled with a few hardened topers,every sign of the fair had vanished. There was not even a trace of drunkenness apparent. The next morning the same scene was repeated with little difference, save that the crowd was rather greater, and a band of military music played in the market-place. About noon the holy procession was seen coming down the winding road which leads from the convent to the town. I had taken up my position on a roadside bank, and enjoyed a perfect view. There were a number of shabby flags and banners preceded by a hundred able-bodied men dressed in dirty-white surplices, rather dirtier than the colour of their faces. A crowd of ragged choristers followed swinging incense-pots, droning an unintelligible chant, and fighting with each other. Then came a troop of monks and scholars with bare heads and downcast eyes. All these walked in twos and twos, and carried a few crucifixes raised aloft. The monks were succeeded by a pewter-looking bust, which, I suppose, was a likeness of St Benedict, and the bust was followed by a mule, on which, in a snuff-coloured coat, black tights, white neckcloth, and a beef-eater’s hat, the whole sheltered beneath a green carriage umbrella, rode His Excellency the Governor of thedistrict. Behind him walked his secretary, the Syndic of Subiaco, four gendarmes, and three broken-down, old livery-clad beadles, who carried the umbrellas of these high dignitaries. In truth, had it not been for the unutterable shabbiness of the whole affair, I could have fancied I saw the market scene in “Martha,” and “The Last Rose of Summer” seemed to ring unbidden in my ears. Not a score of un-official spectators accompanied the procession from the convent, and the interest caused by it appeared but small; the devotion absolutely none. The fact which struck me most throughout was the utter apathy of the people. Not a person in the place I spoke to—and I asked several—had any notion who the governor was. The nearest approach that I got to an answer was from one of the old beadles, who replied to my question, “Chi sa?” “É una roba da lontano;” and with this explanation that the governor was “a thing that came from a distance,” I was obliged to rest satisfied. When the procession reached the town the band joined in, the governor got off his mule, room was made for our party in the rank behind him, I suppose, as “distinguished foreigners;” and so with banners flying, crosses nodding, drumsbeating, priests and choristers chanting, we marched in a body into the church, where the female portion of the crowd and all the beggars followed us. I had now, however, had enough of the “humours of the fair,” and left the town without waiting to try my luck at thetombola, which was to come off directly High Mass was over.
Thenil admirarischool are out of favour. In our earnest working age, it is the fashion to treat everything seriously, to find in every thing a deep hidden meaning, in fact, to admire everything. Since the days of Wordsworth and Peter Bell, every petty poet and romantic writer has had his sneer at the shallow sceptic to whom a cowslip was a cowslip only, and who called a spade a spade. I feel, therefore, painfully that I am not of my own day when I express my deliberate conviction, that the ceremonies of Holy Week at Rome are—the word must come out sooner or later—an imposture. This is not the place to enter into the religious aspect of the Catholic question, nor if it were, should I have any wish to enter the lists of controversy as a champion of either side. I can understand that for some minds the ideas of Church unity,of a mystic communion of the faithful, and of an infallible head of a spiritual body have a strange attraction, nay, even a real existence. I can understand too, that for such persons all the pomps and pageantry of the Papal services present themselves under an aspect to me unintelligible. Whether these ideas be right or wrong, I am not able, nor do I care, to argue. The Pontifical ceremonies, however, have not only a spiritual aspect, but a material and very matter-of-fact one. They are after all great spectacles got up with the aid of music and upholstery and dramatic mechanism. Now, how far in this latter point of view the ceremonies are successful or not, I think from some small experience I am pretty well qualified to judge; and if I am asked whether, as ceremonies, the services of the Church of Rome are imposing and effective, I answer most unhesitatingly, No. I know that this assertion upsets a received article of faith in Protestant England as to the seductive character of the Papal ceremonies. I remember well the time when I too believed that the shrines of the old faith were the haunts of sense-enthralling grandeur, of wild enchantment and bewitching beauty; when I too dreamt howamidst crowds of rapt worshippers, while unearthly music pealed around you and the fragrant incense floated heavenwards, your soul became lost to everything, save to a feeling of unreasoning ecstasy. In fact, I believed in the enchantments of Papal pageantry, as firmly as I believed that a Lord Mayor’s feast was a repast in which Apicius would have revelled, or that an opera ball was a scene of oriental and voluptuous delight. Alas! I have seen all, and known all, and have found all three to be but vanity.
Now the question as to the real aspect of the Papal pageantry, and the effects produced by it upon the minds, not of controversialists, but of ordinary spectators, is by no means an unimportant one with reference to the future prospects of Italy and the Papacy. Let me try then, not irreverently or depreciatingly, but as speaking of plain matters of fact, to tell you what you really do see and hear at the greatest and grandest of the Roman ceremonies. Of all the Holy Week services none have a more European fame, or have been more written or sung about, than the Misereres in the Sistine Chapel. Now to be present at these servicesyou have to start at about one o’clock, or midday, in full evening costume, dress-coat and black trowsers. Any man who has ever had to walk out in evening attire in the broad daylight, will agree with me that the sensation of the general shabbiness and duskiness of your whole appearance is so strong as to overcome all other considerations, not to mention your devotional feelings. In this attire you have to stand for a couple of hours amongst a perspiring and ill-tempered crowd, composed of tourists and priests, for the Italians are too wise to trouble themselves for such an object. During these two mortal hours you are pushed forward constantly by energetic ladies bent on being placed, and pushed back by the Swedish guards, who defend the entrance. The conversation you hear around you, and perforce engage in, is equally unedifying, both religiously and intellectually, a sort ofréchaufféof Murray’s handbook, flavoured with discussions on last Sunday’s sermon. When you are reduced to such a frame of mind and body as is the natural result of time so employed, the doors of the chapel are opened, and you have literally to fight your way in amidst a crowd of ladies hustling, screaming, and fainting. If youare lucky, you get standing room in a sort of open pen, whence, if you are tall, you can catch a sight of the Pope’s tiara in the distance; or, if you belong to the softer sex, you get a place behind the screen, where you cannot see, but, what is much better, can sit. The atmosphere of the candle-lighted, crammed chapel is overpowering, and occupation you have none, except trying in the dim light to decipher the frescoes on the roof, with your head turned backwards. For three long hours you have a succession of dreary monotonous strains, forming portions of a chant, to you unintelligible, broken at intervals by a passage of intonation. There is no organ or instrumental music, and the absence of contralto voices is poorly compensated for by the unnatural accents of the Papal substitutes for female vocalists.
The music itself may be very fine,—competent critics declare it is, and I have no doubt they are right; but I say, unhesitatingly, it is not music that addresses itself to popular tastes, or produces any feeling save that of weariness on nine-tenths of its hearers. You can mark clearly the expression of satisfaction which steals over every face as candle after candle of the stack ofwax-lights before the altar is put out successively, at intervals of some twenty minutes. If the ceremony were reduced to one-tenth of its length, it might be impressive, but a dirge which goes on for three hours, and a chandelier which takes the same time to have its lights snuffed out, become an intolerable nuisance. The dying cadence of the Miserere is undoubtedly grand; but, in the first place, it comes when your patience is exhausted; and, in the second, it lasts so long, that you begin to wonder whether it will ever end. The slavery to conventional rules in England, which causes one to shrink from the charge of not caring about music as zealously as one could, and from pleading guilty to personal cowardice, makes Englishmen, and still more Englishwomen, profess to be delighted with the Miserere; but, in their heart of hearts, their feeling is much such as I have given utterance to.
The ceremonies in St Peter’s itself are, as sights, much better; but yet I often think that the very size and grandeur of the giant edifice increases themesquin-ness(for want of an English word I must manufacture a French one) of the whole ceremony. At the exposition of the relics, for instance, you see in a very lofty gallerytwo small figures, holding up something—what, you cannot tell—set up in a rich framework of gold and jewels; it may be a piece of the cross, or a martyr’s finger-bone, or a horse’s tooth—what it is neither you nor any one else can guess at that distance. If the whole congregation knelt down in adoration, the artistic effect would unquestionably be fine, but then not one person in seven does kneel, and therefore the effect is lost. So it is with the washing of the high altar. If one priest alone went up and poured the wine and oil over the sacred stone, and then cleansed the shrine from any spot or stain, the grandeur of the idea would not be marred by the monotony of the performance; but when some four hundred priests and choristers defile past, each armed with a chip besom, like those of the buy-a-broom girls of our childhood, and each gives a dab to the altar as he passes, the whole scene becomes tiresome, if not absurd. The same fatal objection applies to the famous washing of the feet at the Trinita dei Pellegrini. As a mere matter of simple fact, there is nothing very interesting in seeing a number of old women’s feet washed, or in beholding a number of peasants who would be much better if the washing extendedabove their feet, engaged in gulping down an unsavoury repast. The whole charm of the thing rests in the idea, and this idea is quite extinguished by the extreme length and tediousness of the whole proceeding. The feet have too evidently been washed before, and the pilgrims are too palpably got up for the occasion.
The finest ceremony I have ever witnessed in Rome is the High Mass at St Peter’s on Easter-day; but as a theatrical spectacle, in which light alone I am now speaking of it, it is marred by many palpable defects. Whenever I have seen the Pope carried in his chair in state, I can never help thinking of the story of the Irishman, who, when the bottom and seat of his sedan-chair fell out, remarked to his bearers, that “he might as well walk, but for the honour of the thing.” One feels so strongly that the Pope might every bit as well walk as ride in that ricketty, top-heavy chair, in which he sits, or rather sways to and fro, with a sea-sick expression. Then the ostrich feathers are so very shabby, and the whole get-up of the procession is so painfully “not” regardless of expense. You see Cardinals with dirty robes, under the most gorgeous stoles, while the surplices are as yellow as the stained gold-workedbands which hang across them. There is, indeed, no sense of congruity or the inherent fitness of things about the Italian ceremonials. A priest performs mass and elevates the host with muddy boots on, while the Pope himself, in the midst of the grandest service, blows his nose on a common red pocket-handkerchief. The absence of the organ detracts much from the impressiveness of the music in English ears, while the constant bowings and genuflexions, the drawling intonations, and the endless monotonous psalms, all utterly devoid of meaning for a lay-worshipper, added to the utter listlessness of the congregation, and even of the priests engaged in celebration of the service, destroy the impression the gorgeousness of the scene would otherwise produce.
The insuperable objection, however, to the impressiveness of the whole scene is the same as mars all Papal pageants,—I mean the length and monotony of the performance. One chant may be fine, one prostration before the altar may be striking, one burst of the choral litany may act upon your senses; but, when you have chant after chant, prostration after prostration, chorus after chorus, each the twin brother to the other,and going on for hours, without apparent rhyme or reason, you cease to take thought of anything, in order to speculate idly when, if ever, there is likely to be an end. There is no variety, and little change, too, about the ceremonies. When you have seen one you have seen all; and when you have seen them once, you can understand how to the Romans themselves these sights have become stale and dull, till they look upon them much as I fancy the musician in the orchestra of the old Princess’s must have looked upon one of Kean’s Shaksperian revivals when the season was far spent.
There is, I think, no city in the world where Pilate’s question, “What is truth?” would be so hard to answer as in Rome. In addition to the ordinary difficulties which everywhere beset the path of the foreigner in search of knowledge, there are a number of obstacles peculiar and special to Rome alone.
The whole policy of the government is directed towards maintaining the country in a state of isolation, towards drawing, in fact, a moralcordon sanitaireround the Papal dominions. Indeed, if one lived long in Rome, one would get to doubt the reality of anything. When I last came to Rome straight from Tuscany, seething in the turmoil of its new-bought liberties, I could hardly believe that only six months ago there had been war in Italy within two hundred miles from the Papal city, that the fate of Italy still hungtrembling in the balance, and that the chief province of the country was still in open revolt against its rulers. There was no sign, no trace, scarce a symptom even of what had passed or was passing in the world without. We all seemed spellbound in a dull, dead, dreary circle. There were no advertisements in the streets, except of devotional works for the coming season of Lent; no pamphlets or books placed in the booksellers’ windows, which by their titles even implied the existence of the war and the revolution; no prints for sale of the scenes of the campaign, or the popular heroes of the day. This was the normal state of Rome, such as I had seen it in former years. Later on, indeed, either the force of events, or a change in the counsels of the Vatican, induced the Papacy to drop the defensive passive attitude which constituted its real strength, and to adopt an active offensive policy, which served rather to show the greatness of the dreaded danger than to avert its occurrence. Still the increased animation, though perceptible enough to a Roman, appeared to a stranger but a step above absolute stagnation. I never could get over my astonishment at our utter ignorance of what went on around and amongst us. Aboutthe state of affairs in our two neighbouring countries, whether in free Tuscany or in despotic Naples, we were entirely in the dark. What little news we got was derived from chance reports of stray travellers, or from the French and English newspapers. TheGiornale di Romagave us now and then a damnatory paragraph about the Tuscan Government, from which, out of a mass of vituperation, we could pick up an odd fact or so; but during the first four months of this year, throughout which period I perused theGiornalepretty carefully, I do not remember to have seen a single allusion, good, bad or indifferent, to the kingdom of Naples. The Tuscan papers were naturally enough forbidden, as are almost all the journals of the free Italian states, and could only be obtained by private hands. The Neapolitan Gazette, theMonitore del Regno delle Due Sicilie, was never seen by any chance, though I cannot suppose its circulation was directly interdicted. The communication between Rome and Naples was, and is, scanty in the extreme. During the last ten years, about ten miles of the Pio-Centrale Railroad, the Neapolitan line, have been opened. At present beyond Albano the works are entirely at a stand-still, and thereare still some thirty miles of line, between Rome and the frontier, of which hardly a sod has been turned. The Civita Vecchia line has only been completed in consequence of the pressure of the French authorities, and the Ancona-Florence line is still instatu quo. Three times a week there are diligences between Rome and Naples. The local steam-boats, which used to run along the coast from Porto d’Anzio to the Neapolitan capital have been given up, and in fact there is no ready means of transit, save by the foreign steamers, which touch at Civita Vecchia. Whether purposely or not, everything has been done to check free communication between the Papal and Neapolitan States, and in this respect the Government has been eminently successful. The two countries are totally distinct. A Neapolitan is aforestierein Rome, andvice versâ. Thedivide et imperahas been the motto of all the petty Italian despots and of the Papacy in particular, and hitherto has proved successful. Even now, as far as I could see and learn, the desire for Italian unity does not penetrate very low down. It is the desire, I freely grant, of all the best and wisest Italians, but scarcely, I suspect, the wish of the Italian people. In truth, Italy at thismoment is very much what Great Britain would be, if Scotland, Ireland, Wales and the States of the Saxon Heptarchy had remained to this day separate petty kingdoms, ruled by governments who fostered and developed every local and sectional jealousy. The broad fact, that for some weeks at Rome we were in utter ignorance whether there had been a revolution or not in the capital of the frontier kingdom, not thirty miles away, and should have been quite surprised if we had learnt anything about the matter, is a sufficient commentary on our state of isolation.
This artificial isolation too is increased by a sort of general apathy and almost universal ignorance, which are characteristic of all classes in Rome. How far this intellectual apathy is caused by, or causes, the material isolation of the city, would be a curious question to determine. The existence, however, of this fact, which none acquainted with Rome will question, constitutes one of the chief difficulties in ascertaining accurate information about facts. The most intelligent and the most liberal amongst the Romans (the two terms are there synonymous) never seem to know the value of positive facts, and even in matters susceptible of proof prefer general statements.Then, too, the absence of social meetings, or means of intercourse, is one of the most striking features about Roman society. There is no public life, no current literature, little even of free conversation. Of course, among the English and foreign residents there are plenty of parties and gaieties of every kind. At these parties you meet a few Anglicised Italians, who have picked up a little of our English language and a good deal of our English dress. The nobility of Rome who come into contact with the higher class of English travellers give a good number of formal receptions, but amongst the middle and professional classes there is very little society at all. The summer is the season for what society there is, but even then there is but little. There are no saloons in the Roman theatres, and the miserable refreshment-rooms, with their bars even more shabby and worse provided than our English ones, are, as you may suppose, not places of meeting. Even at the Opera there seemed to be little visiting in the boxes. With the exception of the strangers’ rooms, there are no reading-rooms or clubs in Rome, if I may exclude from this category a miserableGabinetto di Lettura, chiefly frequented by priests, and whose currentletturaconsisted of theTablet, theUnivers, theArmonia, and theCourier des Alpes. The only real places of meeting, or focuses of news, are the cafés. At best, however, they aretriste, uncomfortable places. There is no café in all Rome equal to a second-rate one in an ordinary French provincial town. There are few newspapers, little domino playing, and not much conversation. The spy system is carried to such an extent here, that even in private circles the speakers are on their guard as to what they say, and still more as to what they repeat. As an instance of this, I may mention a case that happened to me personally. On the morning before the demonstrations at the Porta Pia a Roman gentleman, with whom I was well acquainted, wished to give me information of the proposed meeting, of which, it happened, I was well aware; but though we were alone in a room together, the nearest approach on which my friend ventured to a direct information, which might be considered of a seditious character, was to tell me that I should find the Porta Pia road a pleasant walk on an afternoon.
In fact, paradoxical as the assertion may appear, you learn more about Rome from foreignersthan from natives. Unfortunately, such information as you may acquire in this way is almost always of a suspicious character. Almost every one in Rome judges of what he sees or hears according, in German phrase, to some stand-point of his own, either political or artistic or theological, as the case may be. As to the foreign converts, it is only natural that, as in most cases they have sacrificed everything for the Papal faith, they should therefore look at everything from the Papal point of view. If, however, they abuse and despise the Romans on every occasion, it is some satisfaction to reflect that the Romans lose no opportunity of despising or abusing them in turn. English Liberals who see a good deal of Roman society, see it, I think, under too favourable circumstances, and also attach undue importance to the wonderful habit all Italians have of saying as their own opinion whatever they think will be pleasing to their listener. On the other hand, the persons who are best qualified to judge of Rome, the ordinary residents of long standing, who care little about Italy and less about the Pope, are, I fancy, unduly influenced by the advantages of their exceptional position. There are few places in the world where a stranger, especiallyan English stranger, is better off than in Rome. As a rule, he has perfect liberty to do and say and write what he likes, and almost inevitably he gets to think that a government which is so lenient a one for him cannot be a very bad one for its own subjects. The cause, however, of this exceptional lenity is not hard to discover. Much as we laugh at home about theCivis Romanusdoctrine, abroad it is a very powerful reality. Whether rightly or wrongly, foreign governments are afraid of meddling with English subjects, and act accordingly. Then, too, Englishmen as a body care very little about foreign politics, and are known to live almost entirely among themselves abroad, and seldom to interfere in the concerns of foreigners; and lastly, I am afraid that the moral influence of England, of which our papers are so fond of boasting, is very small indeed on the continent generally, and especially in Italy. All the articles theTimesever wrote on Italian affairs did not produce half the effect of About’s pamphlet or Cavour’s speeches. I am convinced that the influence of English newspapers in Italy is most limited. The very scanty knowledge of the English language, and the utter want of comprehension of our English modes of thought andfeeling, render an English journal even more uninteresting to the bulk of Italians than an Italian one is to an Englishman; and the Roman rulers are well aware of this important fact. Hard words break no bones, and the Vatican cares little for what English papers say of it, and looks upon the introduction of English Anti-Papal journals as part of the necessary price to be paid for the residence of the wealthy heretics who refuse to stop anywhere where they cannot have clubs and churches and papers of their own. The expulsion of M. Gallenga, theTimescorrespondent, was in reality no exception to this policy. It was not as the correspondent of an English newspaper, but as an ex-Mazzinian revolutionist and the author ofFra Dolcino, that this gentleman was obnoxious to the Papal authorities. Though a naturalized English subject, he had not ceased to be an Italian, and his personal influence amongst Roman society might have been considerable, though the effect of his English correspondence, however able, would have been next to nothing.
From all these causes it is very hard to learn anything at Rome, and harder yet to learn anything with accuracy. It is only by a process ofelimination you ever arrive at the truth. Out of a dozen stories and reports you have to take one, or rather part of one, and to reject the eleven and odd remaining. It has been my object, therefore, in the following descriptions of the scenes which marked the period of my residence in Rome, to give as much as possible of what I have known and seen myself, and as little of what I heard and learnt from others. What my narrative may lose in vividness, it will, I trust, gain in accuracy.
About half a century ago the Papal question was the order of the day. Another Napoleon was seated on the throne of France, in the full tide of success and triumph of victory; another Pius was Pontiff at the Vatican, under the patronage of French legions, and, strange to say, another Antonelli was the leading adviser of the Pope. The city of Rome, too, and the Papal States were in a condition of general discontent and disaffection; but, unfortunately, this latter circumstance is one of too constant occurrence to afford any clue as to the date of the period in question.
In the year of grace 1806, the enemies of Napoleon wereipso factoour friends; and in consequence the Pope, who was known to be hostile to France, became somewhat of a popular character amongst us. Indeed Pius VII. waslooked on at home rather in the light of a martyr and a hero. It is only of late years that this feeling has worn off, and that we, as a nation, have begun to doubt whether, in his struggle with the Papacy, the Corsican usurper, as it was the fashion then to style him, may not have been in the right after all. Considerable light has been thrown upon this question by the recent publications of certain private State papers, which remained in the possession of Count Aldini, the minister of Italian affairs under the great Emperor.
There had long been subjects of dissension between the Papal and the Imperial Governments. At last, in 1806, these dissensions came to an open rupture. On the 1st of June in that year, Count Aldini wrote a despatch, by order of the Emperor, to complain of the avowed hostility displayed by the Papal Court against the system of legislation introduced into the Kingdom of Italy, and of the private intrigues carried on by Cardinal Antonelli. In this despatch occur these words, which at the present day read strangely appropriate:—
“His Majesty cannot behold without indignation, how that authority, which was appointed by God to maintain order and obedience on earth,employs the most perilous weapons to spread disorder and discord.”
“His Majesty cannot behold without indignation, how that authority, which was appointed by God to maintain order and obedience on earth,employs the most perilous weapons to spread disorder and discord.”
This appeal to the conscience of the Vatican remained of course without effect, and things only grew worse. At the end of the same year Napoleon published at Berlin his famous decrees for the blockade of England, and the exclusion of all English merchandise. Whether justly or unjustly, the Court of Rome was suspected by Buonaparte of not keeping up the blockade (the most unpardonable of all political offences in his eyes). At last, by a decree of the 2nd of April 1808, he removed the Marches from the Papal Government, and annexed them to the Kingdom of Italy. The legations, by the way, had formed part of that kingdom since the treaty of Tolentino. This experiment proved unsuccessful. Napoleon soon discovered, what his successor is also likely to learn, that the real evil of the Papal Government consisted not in its territorial extent, but in the admixture of temporal and spiritual authority; that, in fact, its power of working mischief was, if anything, in inverse proportion to its size. With that rapidity of resolution which formed half his power, he resolved at once to suppress the temporal power of the Popes, andgave instructions to Count Aldini to draw up the necessary decrees. The Emperor was then on the eve of departure for the Spanish peninsula; and it was during the harassing reverses of his fortunes in Spain, that the following report of Aldini was perused by him:—
“Sire,—Your Imperial and Royal Majesty has considered that the time is come to fix the destinies of Rome.“You have directed me to examine which, amidst the diverse governments that Rome has had during modern times, is most adapted for her actual circumstances, while retaining the character of a free government. It appears from history, that Crescenzius governed Rome for many years with the title of Patrician and Consul.“Pope John XV. having appealed against him to the Emperor Otho, the appeal was dismissed, and Crescenzius was confirmed in his office, and caused to swear allegiance to the Emperor.“The supreme dominion of the Emperors over Rome was exercised without contradiction throughout all the dynasty of the Othos and Conrads, and only became assailed under Frederick I.“Afterwards, amidst the multitude of Italian republics, the Roman republic was restored fora time; and, in the 13th century, had for the head of its government a Matteo of the Orsini family with the title of Senator, in honour of whose memory a medal was struck.“For a long period the Kings of Naples, of the Anjou race, were Senators of Rome.“Pope Nicholas III. retained the senatorial dignity for himself; and, by a bull of 1268, forbade the election of any Senator, without the sanction of the Pope.“From this date all the Senators of Rome have been nominated by the Popes, and were never permitted to be foreigners.“Besides the Senator, there was a council, called the Conservatori. The members of this council were chosen from amongst the first families of Rome; proposed by the Senator, and approved by the Pope.“From time to time the Pontiffs have endeavoured to diminish the jurisdiction and the prerogatives of the Senators, so that in latter times their office has been reduced to a mere honorary charge.“It has appeared to me that the restoration of this form of government, replacing the Senator in his old authority, would be a step at onceadapted to the circumstances of the present day, and acceptable to the Roman people.“To declare Rome a free Imperial city, and to reserve a palace there for your Majesty and your court, cannot but produce the most favourable effect on the minds of the Romans.“In the other dispositions of the proposed statute I have confined myself to following the precedents adopted by your Majesty on former occasions, under similar circumstances.”
“Sire,—Your Imperial and Royal Majesty has considered that the time is come to fix the destinies of Rome.
“You have directed me to examine which, amidst the diverse governments that Rome has had during modern times, is most adapted for her actual circumstances, while retaining the character of a free government. It appears from history, that Crescenzius governed Rome for many years with the title of Patrician and Consul.
“Pope John XV. having appealed against him to the Emperor Otho, the appeal was dismissed, and Crescenzius was confirmed in his office, and caused to swear allegiance to the Emperor.
“The supreme dominion of the Emperors over Rome was exercised without contradiction throughout all the dynasty of the Othos and Conrads, and only became assailed under Frederick I.
“Afterwards, amidst the multitude of Italian republics, the Roman republic was restored fora time; and, in the 13th century, had for the head of its government a Matteo of the Orsini family with the title of Senator, in honour of whose memory a medal was struck.
“For a long period the Kings of Naples, of the Anjou race, were Senators of Rome.
“Pope Nicholas III. retained the senatorial dignity for himself; and, by a bull of 1268, forbade the election of any Senator, without the sanction of the Pope.
“From this date all the Senators of Rome have been nominated by the Popes, and were never permitted to be foreigners.
“Besides the Senator, there was a council, called the Conservatori. The members of this council were chosen from amongst the first families of Rome; proposed by the Senator, and approved by the Pope.
“From time to time the Pontiffs have endeavoured to diminish the jurisdiction and the prerogatives of the Senators, so that in latter times their office has been reduced to a mere honorary charge.
“It has appeared to me that the restoration of this form of government, replacing the Senator in his old authority, would be a step at onceadapted to the circumstances of the present day, and acceptable to the Roman people.
“To declare Rome a free Imperial city, and to reserve a palace there for your Majesty and your court, cannot but produce the most favourable effect on the minds of the Romans.
“In the other dispositions of the proposed statute I have confined myself to following the precedents adopted by your Majesty on former occasions, under similar circumstances.”
This report was accompanied by the minutes of three decrees. The first referred to the future government of the Eternal City, and was sketched out in the following articles:—
“Art. 1. Rome is a free Imperial city.“Art. 2. The Palace of the Quirinal, with its dependencies, is declared to be an Imperial Palace.“Art. 3. The confines between the territory of Rome and the Kingdom of Italy are to be determined by a line, which, starting from Arteveri, passes through Baccano, Palestrina, Marino, Albano, Monterotondo, Palombara, Tivoli, and thence, keeping always at a distance of two miles inland from the sea, returns to Arteveri.“Art. 4. The lands of all communes intersectedby the above line form the territory of Rome, excepting all lands that lie between the line and the sea coast.“Art. 5. A Senator and a Magistracy of forty Conservators are to form the Government of the City and its territory.“Art. 6. The executive power resides in the Senator; the legislative with the Magistracy of the Conservators. The Senator has the initiative in all projects of law.“Art. 7. The office of the Senator is for life; that of the Conservators for four years. The Magistracy is to be renewed every year for one-fourth of its members. In the first three years, lot is to decide who go out; afterwards, the members shall retire by rotation.“Art. 8. Ten Conservators, at least, shall be chosen from the different communes which compose the territory of Rome.“Art. 9. The Senator is always to be nominated by us and our successors. For the first election alone we reserve to ourselves the right of nominating the Magistracy of the Conservators. Hereafter, as vacancies occur, the Senator shall nominate the Conservators from a double list presented to him by the Magistracy.“Art. 10. The judicial functions are to be exercised in the name of the Senator, by judges nominated by him. Their appointment shall be for life. They cannot be removed except for fraud or neglect of duty, recognised as such by the Magistracy, or on being sentenced to any disgraceful or penal punishment.“Art. 11. Five Ædiles, nominated after the same fashion as the Conservators, shall superintend the preservation of the ancient monuments and the repairs of the public buildings. For this purpose a special fund (the amount to be determined by the Government) shall be placed yearly at their disposal.“Art. 12. Between the kingdom of Italy and the Roman State, there shall be no intermediate line of customs or duties. The Government of Rome may, however, impose anoctroiduty on victuals at the gates of the city.“Art. 13. For . . . years no ecclesiastic can hold a civil office in Rome or its territory.”
“Art. 1. Rome is a free Imperial city.
“Art. 2. The Palace of the Quirinal, with its dependencies, is declared to be an Imperial Palace.
“Art. 3. The confines between the territory of Rome and the Kingdom of Italy are to be determined by a line, which, starting from Arteveri, passes through Baccano, Palestrina, Marino, Albano, Monterotondo, Palombara, Tivoli, and thence, keeping always at a distance of two miles inland from the sea, returns to Arteveri.
“Art. 4. The lands of all communes intersectedby the above line form the territory of Rome, excepting all lands that lie between the line and the sea coast.
“Art. 5. A Senator and a Magistracy of forty Conservators are to form the Government of the City and its territory.
“Art. 6. The executive power resides in the Senator; the legislative with the Magistracy of the Conservators. The Senator has the initiative in all projects of law.
“Art. 7. The office of the Senator is for life; that of the Conservators for four years. The Magistracy is to be renewed every year for one-fourth of its members. In the first three years, lot is to decide who go out; afterwards, the members shall retire by rotation.
“Art. 8. Ten Conservators, at least, shall be chosen from the different communes which compose the territory of Rome.
“Art. 9. The Senator is always to be nominated by us and our successors. For the first election alone we reserve to ourselves the right of nominating the Magistracy of the Conservators. Hereafter, as vacancies occur, the Senator shall nominate the Conservators from a double list presented to him by the Magistracy.
“Art. 10. The judicial functions are to be exercised in the name of the Senator, by judges nominated by him. Their appointment shall be for life. They cannot be removed except for fraud or neglect of duty, recognised as such by the Magistracy, or on being sentenced to any disgraceful or penal punishment.
“Art. 11. Five Ædiles, nominated after the same fashion as the Conservators, shall superintend the preservation of the ancient monuments and the repairs of the public buildings. For this purpose a special fund (the amount to be determined by the Government) shall be placed yearly at their disposal.
“Art. 12. Between the kingdom of Italy and the Roman State, there shall be no intermediate line of customs or duties. The Government of Rome may, however, impose anoctroiduty on victuals at the gates of the city.
“Art. 13. For . . . years no ecclesiastic can hold a civil office in Rome or its territory.”
The second decree declares that the Papal States, with the exception of the Roman territories above described, are irrevocably and in perpetuity annexed to the Kingdom of Italy, and that theCode Napoleonis to be the law of the land.
The third is headed, “Dispositions with regard to his Holiness,” and disposes of the Papal question in this somewhat summary manner.
“We Napoleon, by the grace of God, and by the Constitution, Emperor of the French, King of Italy, Protector of the Rhenish Confederation,“Having regard to our first decree concerning Rome, have decreed, and decree as follows:—“Art. 1. The Church and the Piazza of St Peter, the palace of the Vatican and that of the Holy Office, with their dependencies, are a free possession of his Holiness the Pope.“Art. 2. All the property of the Capitol and the Basilica of St Peter are preserved to those institutions under whatever administration the Pope may please to appoint.“Art. 3. His Holiness shall receive a yearly income of one million Italian francs, and shall retain all the honorary privileges he has enjoyed in past times.“Given at our Imperial Palace of St Cloud, this --- day of Sept. 1808.”
“We Napoleon, by the grace of God, and by the Constitution, Emperor of the French, King of Italy, Protector of the Rhenish Confederation,
“Having regard to our first decree concerning Rome, have decreed, and decree as follows:—
“Art. 1. The Church and the Piazza of St Peter, the palace of the Vatican and that of the Holy Office, with their dependencies, are a free possession of his Holiness the Pope.
“Art. 2. All the property of the Capitol and the Basilica of St Peter are preserved to those institutions under whatever administration the Pope may please to appoint.
“Art. 3. His Holiness shall receive a yearly income of one million Italian francs, and shall retain all the honorary privileges he has enjoyed in past times.
“Given at our Imperial Palace of St Cloud, this --- day of Sept. 1808.”
In the midst of the Spanish campaigns, these documents were perused and approved by the Emperor, who wrote to Aldini, at that time inItaly, and told him to make private inquiries as to whether the time was opportune for the promulgation of these decrees, and whether it was expedient to require the clergy to take an oath of allegiance to the new constitution. Aldini’s reply contains the following remarkable passage:—
“The Pope, who has never enjoyed the good opinion of the Roman public, has succeeded in these latter days in winning the sympathy of a few fanatics, who call his obstinacy heroic constancy, and wait every day for a miracle to be worked by God in his defence.“Except these bigots and a few wealthy persons who dread the possibility, that, under a change of government, their privileges might be destroyed, and the taxes on property increased, all classes are of one mind in desiring a new order of things, and all alike long for its establishment.“I must not, however, conceal from you that this universal sentiment is chiefly due to two causes:—Firstly, to the idea that the payment of the interest on the public debt will be resumed; as, in truth, a great number of Roman families depend on these payments for their income; and secondly, to the hope that Rome willbecome the capital of a great state, a hope which the Romans know not how to renounce.”
“The Pope, who has never enjoyed the good opinion of the Roman public, has succeeded in these latter days in winning the sympathy of a few fanatics, who call his obstinacy heroic constancy, and wait every day for a miracle to be worked by God in his defence.
“Except these bigots and a few wealthy persons who dread the possibility, that, under a change of government, their privileges might be destroyed, and the taxes on property increased, all classes are of one mind in desiring a new order of things, and all alike long for its establishment.
“I must not, however, conceal from you that this universal sentiment is chiefly due to two causes:—Firstly, to the idea that the payment of the interest on the public debt will be resumed; as, in truth, a great number of Roman families depend on these payments for their income; and secondly, to the hope that Rome willbecome the capital of a great state, a hope which the Romans know not how to renounce.”
Under these circumstances, Count Aldini goes on to recommend that hopes should be held out of an early resumption of payments on the national debt, and that a provisional air should be given to the proposed arrangement, so as to keep alive the prospect of a great kingdom, of which Rome should be the centre. He deprecates enforcing an oath of allegiance on the clergy, on the ground that “all priests will consent to obey the civil government; but all will not consent to swear allegiance to it, because they consider obedience an involuntary act, and an oath a voluntary act which might compromise their conscience.” He finally recommends delay, under present circumstances, till some decisive victory has crushed the hopes of the priest party. This delay was fatal to the scheme. After the battle of Wagram, Napoleon resumed the project, and resolved to encrease the Pope’s income to two millions of francs. Then, however, there came unfortunately the protests of Pius VII. the bull of excommunication hurled against the Emperor, and a whole series of petty insults and annoyances on the part of the Pope; such, forinstance, as walling up the doors of his palace, and declaring, like his successor and namesake, his anxiety to be made a martyr. Passion seems to have prevailed over Napoleon’s cooler and better judgment. The Pope was carried off to Savona, Rome was made part of the French empire, and Aldini’s project slumbered till, in after years, it has been revived, though without acknowledgement, by M. Guerronière, in his pamphlet ofLe Pape et le Congrès.
Now this project I have quoted not for its intrinsic value, but because I think it one likely to be realized. Napoleon III. (the fact both for good and bad is worth minding) and not the Italians has to decide on Rome’s future, and any one who has watched the Emperor’s career will be aware how carefully he follows out the cooler and wiser ideas of his great predecessor. The Papal question is not one to be settled by the sword, and I know not whether amongst all the plans that I have seen, the solution of Napoleon I. does not present the fewest difficulties.