The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1853-01-20

X
In strong contrast to him, was Cardinal An
tinell, the real force and brain of the present
Government, who walked little in advance of
his Holiness and showed for what he is-a
proud, subtle, ambitious, INSCRIPTIONS spirit
His lips moved mechanically, but little prayed
his dark, restless, sinister eyes
We afterwards visited the chapel in which
the sacrament had been deposited with such
pomp and circumstance, and found it as bril-
| liant as rich marbles, gold and silver, and wax
| lights innumerable could make it,
| From thence we drove to the Catacombs. that
dark subterranean source of the mighty spirit
ual despotism which has subverted empires and
exterminated religions, but whose power and
| glory have declined, and are declining fast and
whose sanctity has become an idle fable at
which, openly or secretly, the world laughs.
Modern Rome is the most singular melange
of the grand and poor, of splendor and squalor,
imaginable. The streets are narrow and dirty,
but many of them lined by towering old pala-
ces, and leading into noble piaszas. There are
open squares, containing, almost invariably,
fountains beautiful or grotesque, and those
most sOmbre yet picturesque and imposing OF
monuments, Egyptian obelisks The general
aspect of the city, as seen from height, is OF
dark gray--a strong contrast indeed, to Iris
hued Genoa. have as yet remarked no fan
tastic-looking buildings, painted in light bril-
liant colors, or with frescoed outer walls. All
respectable dwelling houses are built on q
large and lofty scale, with the best suites of
apartments astonishingiy high up, and the en-
trance halls chill dreary, and prison-like The
shops are usually small and dark, and, aside
from books, engravings, jewelry, bronzes, &c,
you seldom see anything you want exposed for
sale, but must go on regular exploring expe-
dition for it-plunging into the most unlikely
and unheard-of places. This is especially true
| of Genoa.
The Romans of rank and fortune are singu-
| larly handsome-you see little in their dress to
distinguish them from the English, or French,
resident here, but unerringly recognise them
| by their pale olive complexion, their shining
black hair, and large, magnificent eyes-not
the quick, fiery, sparkling eyes, that flash light
ning-Gke upon you in Southern France but
those of full-orbed yet chaotic thought, of slum-
brous passion, dreamy and soft; eyes which do
not strike your gaze of from their bright sur
face, yet are utterly understandable and into
which you can look down to depth on depth of
mystery and darkness
The common people are gayer in manner,
| and you sometimes remark among them forms
and faces of striking beauty. regret to say
that the picturesque national costume of this
class seems rapidly going out, at least in the
large towns. | have seen comparatively few
women in the distinctive Roman dress, and
most of these are old and ugly, holding on with
the deadly tenacity of age to things of the
past-alas, | fear a PartiDgton-ike resistance
to the onward sweep of French fashions and
Manchester prints | sometimes see in the
streets a contddina from Albano, in brillian,
dress of red and white, or out on the Campagna
a shepherd boy, clad in regular John-the-
Baptist kilt of sheepskin, who really look as
though they had just stepped out of picture
They are far finer and more intelligent-look-
ing than the Irish peasants-their dwellings
are infinitely better, and with pleasanter and
more poetic surroundings-but the oft-told
truth must be repeated-there is not in the
civilized world people of more indolent and
uncleanly habits. In all the towns we have
yet visited, in the best streets, along the public
walks about the palaces and churches, we
meet disgusting filth and vile stenches enough
to breed pestilence which might scourge the
world. After little observation of what man.
ner of lives the common people lead, you little
wonder that for all their delicious climate, they
are seldom healthful in appearance. You see
very few with the rich, kindling, sun-kissed
| complexion which painters and poets give
them-nearly all their faces are coloress, and
some are sallow to the last degree The chill.
dren are usually miserably pale and thin
have seen poor babes tightly swaddled, as all
infants are here, lying on the ground or carried
stiftly in their mothers arms like blocks OF
wood whose great patient eyes looked out Of
black shadows and whose complexions were Of
faint pea-green. Yet among this class there
are, of course, some children, treasures and
God.sends to painters and sculptors whose
beauty seems to spring rich and perfect from
the very filth and misery which surround them,
like those gorgeous flowers which feed and
flourish on corruption. These dirty little vaga-
bonds are liable to be waylaid and kidnapped
by needy artists, stripped of their rags, washed
and posed then TO re-appear in profane full
length, pinioned and quivered as Cupids, or in
sacred quarter length, a cherubic head and
wings with indefinite cloudy combinations.
Ia passing through the suburbs or inferior
streets of any Italian town, on Sunday, or any
other day of more than usual leisure, you will
witness an odd and purely Italian sight
mothers seated in, or in front of, their doors,
with the heads of their children in their laps,
absorbed in an indesoribable and hardly hint
for practical phrenologists, making careful and
conscientious examinations Of the organs of
their responsibilities, that they might train
them up in the way they should 60"
The beggars constitute a prominent and q
most repulsiye feature of Italy They appear
in every imaginable variety and degree of
wretchedness, disease, and deformity They
| beset you everywhere and at all times--in
| oil 1v;v oh has ba cfa of mil
| in shops cafes among the ruins--at early
morning at noon, at midnight It is not safe
for you to pause to admire n handsome peasant
woman, or child, however well dressed, for
| begging seems the earliest instinct the uni
versal, ruling passion of the people
Driving in the country lately, we passed a
stream, on whose banks some women were
washing lnen and on seeing us, an old dame,
of at least seventy, dropped the ragged sheet
she was cleansing on a rock, dashed through
the water up to her venerable knees, cleared
the bank with bound and presented her
withered and dripping palm at the coach door,
| keeping up with the full speed of our horses
hideous, horrible creature, chattering and
bowling like a very she-devil, till we exercised
her with few 6ajocchi As for those even
legitimate objects of charity, the blind diseased,
SAo'"oo uhosncu, anu criPPcu' 'noy ooon No
innumerable as the waves Of the sea. You see
men with sturdy, broad chests and big, bushy
heads on legs which have shrunken into a
second childhood, and lie coilsd under them
like cables Among the regular lyers in wait
about one of the churches, is an old woman
with an immense wen, projecting from her fore
head like the horn Of unicorn, and boy
whose withered right arm hangs bare at his
s'de, stiff, straight and slender, ike a pump
handle Men, legless and armless, mere torsi,
roll down upon you from decljvities; men with
paraly1cd splnes wnggle across your path, like
reptiles; and, In short there is no end to these
deformed forms OF humanity, these dismember-
cd members of society. am always most
touched with the appeals Of the blind and the
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