Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1878-01-15
For the SPECTATOR.
Rome and Florence.


UNPUBLISHED EXTRACTS FROM TIL
REVISED Ms. OF "MY FOUR PALACES ~
My acquaintances in Rome were no
Entertainments while living in ssPalazz
Rospoli." My object in visiting thi
city, so renowned in history, was quit
the opposite of seeking any liyino soci
ETY.. l had no desire whatever to NOV,
or mingle in any circle, however charm
ing and fashionable it might.be; all it,
emnty Establishments and syren seduc-
tlons were lost upon one whose heart
for the time was callous to all such. and
whose mind was rather with its classic
past than its present depravity and com.
paratlve nOthingness.. The ancient rel
les and venerable ruins of the Rome
that-once- existed speaks to us to.day
with far more eloquent tongue. in
their sad yet majestic loneliness, with
their Kingly robes all rent by the impe.
rial hand of time, than aught else liy-
ing and breathing beneath the sun, and
within the range Of human vision. The
Rome Of-to-day is quite different eitv
from the Rome of-the-past such is only
too painfully evident to every stranger
and student who has reveied in the
proud annals of the home of the Caesars
and afterward visited it in the flesh. and
with the eye natural looked upon its
dlmlnutive proportions, with all its mod
ern degeneracy. I rememher leaving
my palace one evenings for, stroll
through part OF the old city 1 had not
previously explored. During the walk.
while passing an old dilapidated palace.
whose upper stories were occupied hv
about dozen poor families, I nsused at
the broad, open doorway Of room on
the ground floor which had been con-
vertGd into blacksmith shop; the sparks
from the anvil were thickly and swiftly
flying. and stood looking on, as am
fond of doing in such localities and un-
der such circumstances. when my atten-
tion was attracted to the floor and the
material 9araPOsing 1t. walked in the
shop, bowed and smiled to the smith,
and then began to examine the floor,
which was very uneven and broken up.
but, withal, it exhibited tangible sisns
of its past splendor, its dim glory, its
dying, dead beauty. EHe floor sods mo
sale!
Alas! Immortal Cesar. dead and turned to clay
Will do to stop a crack, and keep the wind
away
The vicissitudes of animal life may
be variable enough, and surely suffi-
GENTLY comprehensive in its mortal span
from the cradle to the grave, yet it is ex.
ceedingly questionable if the innumera-
BILE changes of inanimate matter are less
so. when we consider it in all it's diver
sified character. If we view it as moth
ing into something, and then from some
thing into nothing again, is there not
a simple analogy between the mortal
existence of animate and the inert ex-
istence of inanimate matter? The pub
lie situation of my Roman Palace was q
matter of great comfort and convent
ence to me, for whenever tired or wea-
ried with sight seeing afoot. hours would
be Interestingly and amusingly passed
at my window. watching the crowds of
people continually passing to and fro
during the evenings, generally the
smaller portion with business in view,
and the greater were idlers and pleasure.
seekers. I do not remember ever seeing
many Italian crowds that were not mix
ed in this ratio. The study of italian
faces was marked off my programme
after my first week in Rome; it was
done while was in very compromls-
ing mood, after closely scrutinizing sew
eral thousand facial arrangements with
out once detecting set of features cast
in Roman mould, 1 concluded that the
types had either been lost or worn out,
and that new font was necessary, or
the old one revised, if the identity was
. questiODIof preservation and existence
So when you go to Rome do not look for
Romans. Do not indulge in.the idle ex-
pectation of seeing what does not exist.
1t will prove to be pastime without
being attended with any pleasure or
profit, and oAly result in disappoint-
sl.ent and vexation at discovering the
total extinction of a race that was so
noble and gifted.
While living in "My Palace" and
observing the ways and manners of a
people that felt an interest In, if only
for their surroundings and their illus
trious ancestors, 1t often occurred to me
how little the masses. really knew about
their own history. Some of them were
perfectly ignorant of the character of
the many famous old monuments that
still stood in their very midst, hard by
their dwellings. ! knew several old
men who had never seen the Colosseum
could not tell me where the Pantheon
was said that he had heard of it, but
it had been moved to the Brit
ish Museum on somewhere else. Twas
Roman history once with
my guide, who appeared to know slots
of things" We were standing in the
dome of st. Peters, from which there
is glorious view of the city and its sur
roundings. looked upon the Capitol
inc Hills, made some remark about the
Palaces of the Caesars, etc., and in the
same relation casually spoke of the as
of the great Julius Caesar by
RrUtus. and the other conspirators. My
guide remarked that he had heard his
father say that man named Brutus did
kill somebody, and he thought the fell
lows name was Pompey.
T passed some hours of very sober and
serious reflection while living beneath
the roof Of "Palazzo Rospoli." The
past of Rome suggests the impersonation
of history. Her monuments elevate
the soul, inspiring solemn, yet serene
feelings; and it is thought fraught
with exultatien that man is capable of
producing creations which, after the
lapse of thousand years, still renOvate
and animate others. i
< < < < :: "
But my days in Florence were bright
and happy ones. ] suffered no cloud or
shadow to rest for a moment, or even to
to enter ever so briefly when and where
that soft and glorious sunlight, that
gentle and all pervading sunshine, al
ways shed its kindess rays and seemed
to linger SO lovingly on flowers that
hloomsd in every hue. and beneath skies
that were ever blue. do not think
there is another city in Italy more beau
tifully located, more pieturesquely situa
ted. It lies in a fiowery plain, surround
ed by elegant hills, which have been
faithful sentinels for ages, guarding with
jealous eyes theItalian Queen of art and
beauty, whose graceful limbs lie in sweet
repose at their everlasting base.
Old Palazzo Ricasoli was one of the
many gems that glittered On the brow
of this beauty, whose charms age could
not efface. hui anly soften and tone
down the fresh and brilliant tints of
early youth.
"My Palace" had lost some of its glo-
nv, some of its fornaar claim, and natu-
raj consideration from its nearest neigh