The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1853-02-24
For the National Era
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GREENWOOD LEAVES FROM OVER THE SEA.
No

D.
GREENWOOD LEAVES FROM OVER THE SEA.
No. 81.
ROME, January 8, 1858.
/ Mr. DEAR ]. c.: benetcent, rainy
day, the rarest thing in the world during thin
incompatible winter, prevents me from making
the incalculable sacrifice to you | usually make
to my correspondents.
Gipsy-like and Arab-like, ss ! have ever
been in my propensties, | never had such al
absolute uncomfortable passion for outdoor life
and its pleasures as | have in Rome Oul
house. hemmed in and lowered over by other
houses is rather dark and chill at this season
and | cannot resist the inviting sunshine o.
more open paces-the sunshine which here il
softer and more yivfying than elsewhere
which kndles and keeps June bloom in tht
hearts of January roses-which transmutes the
leaden Tiber into flowing sheet Of gold
which kisses flush of life and beauty into the
dead face of ruin and decay. have pleasure
indescribable and inexhaustible in my morn
ing walks on the Pincio, tasting the early air
a little keen and frosty nOw-a-d days, aud look
ing down upon the noble old city, almost every
interesting point of which is in view. St Peters
shows grandly from here, with it's vast dome
blazing with light. | witness all the sunset
from some one of the seven hills-from the
banks Of the Tiber, from the ruins, or out on
the Campagna. We rode, a day or two since
out the Porta Maggore and across the plain
| to the tomb of Cecilia Metella and the circus oil
Romulus and on to the old Appian Way, every
stone of which is eloquent of the heroic past
returning Just after sunset absolutely Cypress
ed and bewildered with the matchless dreamy
| desolate beauty of that wondrOus campagna
and of the more wondrous heaven above it. Oh
the glory of the sunlight on the gorgeous AL
ban hills How that mellow warmth seemed
to clasp them in love. felt as gazed that
it must stream through their chill watery veins,
and penetrate their rocky hearts, and wake
the sleeping light in the gems embedded there.
| In no other country, am sure, do earth and
| heaven seem so in love with each other as here.
| The sky never seems to shut down sharply upon
the earth ut the horizon, but, with infinite and
exquisite shades of coloring to draw near with
| all the soft approaches of love- while the
ground, gently undulating, seems to lift itself
to blend with the sky. The hills do not tower
upward abruptly and sternly, but rise in grad
ual slopes, as though wooing the light dallying
mists and lovely INDECENT clouds to repOse on
their brown breasts.
have sort of indistinct idea of having said
something very like the above, in some one Of
my late letters. If So you must pardon me
for when impressions and emotions are often
recurring, expression will inevitably repeat it.
self occasionally.
On our last RIDE we went out the Porta del
Popolo, and took a pleasant by-road, which
brought us, after many charming windings, to
broad tract of the campagna, on the Tiber-
plain as level and dry as a Western prairie,
where we took wild gallOping race, and sew
eral trotting matches, enjoying to the utmost
the pure, free air-the rich, unObstructed sun
light and the utter loneliness of the scene.
There was IN view scarce trace of human life,
all was silent and solitary as desert. At a
distance across the Tiber, we could discern a
herd of ugly black buffaloes and group Of
stately white cattle and dOcie and domesti-
Gated as these doubtless were, there was to our
eyes something strange, and wild, and savage,
in their aspect Once, as we were riding there,
a cloud of white birds passed over our heads,
flying seward and looking, as they sailed
slowly through the deep heaven, like u feet of
fairy barqucs--their wings cleaning like sill
yer oars in the blue waves of air
Twelfth Night was very gaily kept in Rome.
1t is a season of great rejoicing for the chill
dren, as they then receive all sorts of gifts
from the gracious Balance, a kind Of female
Santa Claus She is a parsonage very gener-
ally and joyfully honored here-the Corso is
illuminated for her, and various ceremonies and
festivities mark her annual advent.
The day following, the Bambino was shown
to the people, with much pomp and circum-
stance, from the steps of the IRA Ceh. This
| Bambino is neither more nor less than a sacred
doll, blazing with jewels, the offerings of the de-
vout, and having an uurivaled reputation in
the miracle line. A vast assemblage of the
people fell on their knees at the sight of it, as
readily and reverently as they could have pros
trated themselves if a shining angel of God had
descended into their midst
Yesterday, we visited the Doria and Corsi.
nj palaces. The former is a most beautiful
and princely residence, but is not remark ABLY
rich In works of art Though there are in it,
galleries several pictures by Guido, Claude
Rubens, Murllo, Raphael, Titan, and other
great masters, they are not among those mas
ters' great works In one Uf the galleries,
was suddenly arrested by the portrait of a wo
man, young and resplendently beautiful, YET
which seemed to fling down upon me from the
wall powerful and balelul spell. Wishing
to feel 10 the utmost to analyze, and if posi-.
BILE, to understand this strange and startling
influence stood long before the picture, with
out looking at the catalogue to ascertain it,
name. 1t Is the portrait Of woman in the
full bloom and ripeness of beauty, with rich
glowing complexion, auburn hair, and darl
brown eyes. Her form is perfectly rounded
her throat and hands of great beauty, and hel
dress royalty luxurious But in the face, de
clare to you, | read AS clearly as though the,
had been set down in book, all the mos
| ar la,G L..
tory qualities and passions ever congregated In
one mortal nature, and arrogantly and fatally
manifest in one human embodiment. Intellect
keen and subtle.-sensuality, low and kless-
burning love and cold neutrality-suspicious.
revengefulness, voluptuousness and utter false
hood.
It ~ the portrait Of Lucrezia Borgia, by Guide
Romano
At the Corsini palace found one of the rich
est galleries | ever visited. | saw there a Ma
donna and child, by Carlo Dolci, which to my
eye, or rather to my soul, is the finest picture
ever beheld The Madonna is lovely beyond
all imagination, with a serene and noble, vet
most tender and womanly beauty; while the
child ia, indeed, an object for holy love, wonder
and alteration. lie seems just awakening from
sleep, and lies with a soft dewy flush upon bis
cheeks and lips, and with his small hands
clasped on his breast and you feel that he has
been visited by sweet dreams of the celestial
home he has just left You feel that he is q
pure ray of the eternal brightness, sent to light
the death darkness of earth--a bud Of the d.
vine life, sent to fill our sad mortal being with
the breath Of its immortal sweetness You
seem to See the great God-soul throbbng and
glowing through all the little baby. form and
slight, beautiful, and tender as he is, you read
ia both face and form, as in "a sure word o.
prophecy" all the sorrow and grandeur of hi,
! mission Of redemption--the sublime abnegatior
and long suffering of his bene6eent liie-ths
darkness Of Gethsemene-the anguish Of Cal
vary-the salvation of the world 1t is tn,
only picture have yet beheld, before which