The Sun.
London, England, 1863-01-28 00:00:00

THE GHETTO.

Let us pass round this gigantic hulk that towers and
gloomy over the low, miserable houses near it, and we are
into the Ghetto. We have entered, appropriate enough,
into the Piazza del Pianto—the Place of Weeping—for
sorrow and tears have been the heritage of the children of
Israel ever since their splendid city was destroyed and they
were scattered to the four winds of heaven. On the very
spot where we now stand, or within a short distance from
it, this Roman colony of Jews have lived for more than 18
centuries, despised and degraded—the pariahs of Europe
and the Church. Through all the sad vicissitudes of these
ages of ignominy, here they have clung with a pertinacity
which is unaccountable. No savagery of persecution has
been able to drive them away from the place where they
have suffered most. Enslaved, and thrown to the wild
beasts of the arena as sport for the imperial populace, out-
lawed and denied all intercourse with Christians by the
Popes, branded with infamy, oppressed by cruel laws, irri-
tated by constant insults, banned from the city, and crowded
in wretched and unwholesome houses, they have hovered
about Rome as moths round the lamp that burns them, and
are now the oldest unbroken colony of Jews in Europe.
Close by the side of the Papal Church, which claims to
have been instituted by Christ, the Jewish Church, dedi-
cated to Jehovah, has stationed itself, and maintained the
law of Moses with unflinching faith. Persuasions and
threats have been tried on it in vain, Under the unre-
mitted burden of their woes, the Jews have obstinately re-
sisted conversion, and on the ruins of the Pagan temples,
and within the precincts of the city dedicated to Jove, the
two churches of Moses and Peter have held their hostile
camps.

Of the beggars of Rome we have a lengthened his-
tory, beginning, as in duty bound, with Beppo,
king of the confraternity. This interesting indi-
vidual deliberately selected his profession in youth,
being, incapacitated from active exertion by lame-
ness. Ho has now amassed a comfortable fortune,
and rides home at night on his donkey. His throne
is on the upper step of the Scale di Spagna, close to
the Trinita di Monti. The country festal are
grand harvests for Beppo and his tribe, who out-
strip all visitors.

BBGGARS AT A FETE.
becomesthe As you reach the gates of the town, ttltieeitrhoewr
hide
furious. There are scores of beggarstte 10l
far the town
road, screaming in chorus.
be from the city, there is notN aoofwmtrheetcohleido,st maimed
who cripple
have
of your acquaintance, not one of
not a ragged baron who
dodged you round a Romsansagce
through the public squares
has levied toll for his passage
a privileged robber whot
subtle shut up for you a pleasant
interesting church, but he is
they got there is as inexplicable
• • street or waylaid yioluovar
sure to be there.
as how the apples got into the dumplings in Peter Pindar's
poem. Bat at the first ring of a festa-bell they start up
from under-ground (those who are legless getting only
half-way up), like Roderick Dhu's men, and level their
crutches at you as the others did their arrows. An Eng-
lish lady, a short time since, after wintering at Rome,
went to take the baths of Lucca in the summer. On going
out for a walk, on the first morning after her arrival,
whom should she meet but King Beppo, whom she had
just left in Rome ! He had come with the rest of the
nobility for recreation and bathing, and of course had
brought his profession with him.

The charities of the Roman Government are large,
says the author, but the money is not always ad-
ministered to the best advantage. There are hos-
pitals of many kinds, besides establishments for the
care of orphans and for the provision of y oung girls.
He speaks warmly of the good qualities of the
Italians, and by no means shares the depre-
ciating prejudice which he affirms to be so common
among visitors who know little of the people they

condemn. He represents thew As a prudent a

abstemious people, and angrily refutes the
charges of unhealthinest: which foreigners
bring against his beloved Rome, by bidding
them do at Rome as the Romans do—live
temperately and regularly, avoid heats and
chills, and keep their windows closed at night to
avo'd the miasma from the Campagna. They are,
as we all know, a cheerful people ; suicide is a thing
almost unknown ; and one of their great amuse •
ments—in fact, almost a necessity of life to them—
is the theatre. They are good actors, being en-
tirely devoid of exaggeration and pretence. Of
course, as the theatre is in such demand among
citizens who are by no means remarkable for
wealth, it is indispensable that prices should be low,
and that such is the case is proved by the accom-
panying picture of—