Yours very faithfully,
J. Herschel.
The Prince and Princesse de Broglie came to Rome in 1845, and Signore Pellegrino Rossi, at this time French Minister at the Vatican, gave them a supper party, to which we were invited. We had met with him long before at Geneva, where he had taken refuge after the insurrection of 1821. He was greatly esteemed there and admired for his eloquence in the lectures he gave in the University. It was a curious circumstance, that he, who was a Roman subject, and was exiled, and, if I am not mistaken, condemned to death, should return to Rome as French Minister. He had a remarkably fine countenance, resembling some ancient Roman bust. M. Thiers had brought in a law in the French Chambers to check the audacity of the Jesuits, and Rossi was sent to negotiate with the Pope. We had seen much of him at Rome, and were horrified, in 1848, to hear that he had been assassinated on the steps of the Cancelleria, at Rome, where the Legislative Assembly met, and whither he was proceeding to attend its first meeting. No one offered to assist him, nor to arrest the murderers except Dr. Pantaleone, a much esteemed Roman physician, and member of the Chamber, who did what he could to save him, but in vain; he was a great loss to the Liberal cause.
Towards the end of summer we spent a month most agreeably at Subiaco, receiving much civility from the Benedictine monks of the Sacro Speco, and visiting all the neighbouring towns, each one perched on some hill-top, and one more romantically picturesque than the other. It was in this part of the country that Claude Lorraine and Poussin studied and painted. I never saw more beautiful country, or one which afforded so many exquisite subjects for a landscape painter. We went all over the country on mules—to some of the towns, such as Cervara, up steep flights of steps cut in the rock. The people, too, were extremely picturesque, and the women still wore their costumes, which probably now they have laid aside for tweeds and Manchester cottons.
I often during my winters in Rome went to paint from nature in the Campagna, either with Somerville or with Lady Susan Percy, who drew very prettily. Once we set out a little later than usual, when, driving through the Piazza of the Bocca della Verità, we both called out, "Did you see that? How horrible! "It was the guillotine; an execution had just taken place, and had we been a quarter of an hour earlier we should have passed at the fatal moment. Under Gregory XVI. everything was conducted in the most profound secrecy; arrests were made almost at our very door, of which we knew nothing; Mazzini was busily at work on one side, the Jesuitical party actively intriguing, according to their wont, on the other; and in the mean time society went on gaily at the surface, ignorant of and indifferent to the course of events. We were preparing to leave Rome when Gregory died. We put off our journey to see his funeral, and the Conclave, which terminated, in the course of scarcely two days, in the election of Pius IX. We also saw the new Pope's coronation, and witnessed the beginning of that popularity which lasted so short a time. Much was expected from him, and in the beginning of his reign the moderate liberals fondly hoped that Italy would unite in one great federation, with Pius IX. at the head of it; entirely forgetting how incompatible a theocracy or government by priests ever must be with all progress and with liberal institutions. Their hopes were soon blighted, and after all the well-known events of 1848 and 1849, a reaction set in all over Italy, except in gallant little Piedmont, where the constitution was maintained, thanks to Victor Emmanuel, and especially to that great genius, Camillo Cavour, and in spite of the disastrous reverses at Novara. Once more in 1859 Piedmont went to war with Austria, this time with success, and with the not disinterested help of France. One province after another joined her, and Italy, freed from all the little petty princes, and last, not least, from the Bourbons, has become that one great kingdom which was the dream of some of her greatest men in times of old.
We went to Bologna for a short time, and there the enthusiasm for the new Pope was absolutely intolerable. "Viva Pio Nono!" was shouted night and day. There was no repose; bands of music went about the streets, playing airs composed for the occasion, and in the theatres it was even worse, for the acting was interrupted, and the orchestra called upon to play the national tunes in vogue, and repeat them again and again, amid the deafening shouts and applause of the excited audience. We found the Bolognese very sociable, and it was by far the most musical society I ever was in. Rossini was living in Bologna, and received in the evening, and there was always music, amateur and professional, at his house. Frequently there was part-singing or choruses, and after the music was over the evening ended with a dance. We frequently saw Rossini some years later, when we resided at Florence. He was clever and amusing in conversation, but satirical. He was very bitter against the modern style of opera-singing, and considered the singers of the present day, with some exceptions, as wanting in study and finish. He objected to much of the modern music, as dwelling too constantly on the highest notes of the voice, whereby it is very soon deteriorated, and the singer forced to scream; besides which, he considered the orchestral accompaniments too loud. I, who recollected Pasta, Malibran, Grisi, Rubini, and others of that epoch, could not help agreeing with him when I compared them to the singers I heard at the Pergola and elsewhere. The theatre, too, was good at Bologna, and we frequently went to it.
One evening we were sitting on the balcony of the hotel, when we saw a man stab another in the back of the neck, and then run away. The victim staggered along for a minute, and then fell down in a pool of blood. He had been a spy of the police under Gregory XVI., and one of the principal agents of his cruel government. He was so obnoxious to the people that his assassin has never been discovered.
From Bologna we went for a few weeks to Recoaro, where I drank the waters, after which we travelled to England by the St. Gothard pass.
FOOTNOTES:
[13] The vessel on board which this bust was shipped for England ran on a shoal and sank, but as the accident happened in shallow water, the bust was recovered, none the worse for its immersion in salt water.