FRIENDS’ MEETING AT ROME.
On one occasion of our meeting together, the sitting was somewhat abruptly concluded by a deafening salute from the cannons of St. Angelo, which shook the very piombi of friend B——n. It was Easter Day, and the Pope had just pronounced a blessing upon the thousands of souls assembled in the Piazza of St. Peter’s. After we had separated, I hunted up my friend Raven, who had just returned from the “Benediction,” and with him visited some of the Roman villas, going subsequently to the Ponte St. Angelo, to secure a convenient window for the fireworks of the following day. In the evening we drove to a favourable position in the great square of St. Peter, where, hemmed in by hundreds of vehicles, we had to wait until the illumination of the Duomo should commence. Being curious to see the method of lighting the lamps, I left the party in the carriage, and squeezing through the dense crowd, got as near as I could to the church. The whole façade was stuck over with bajocco candles, each having a little wooden stand and shade of stiff paper to keep off the wind, and these were arranged in such a way as perfectly to develope the architectural outlines of the building. The candles were ignited by men suspended from the top of the façade, looking, as they dangled on their ropes in mid-air, like the fowlers of the Orkneys, and plying apparently quite as perilous a pursuit. I now returned to Raven, but the pressure of the crowd was so great, that the lighting up of the cupola had commenced before I reached him. This seems to be effected by the simultaneous ignition of an immense number of small pots of tow and turpentine, placed in proper position, in belts around the dome, and in vertical lines between the gores, there being one man to about every ten lamps. These poor fellows have a very dangerous task to perform, being suspended by ropes passing through apertures in the dome. Sometimes, though rarely, one of them misses his hold, and extinguishes in his fall the row of lamps he has just lighted, which have been remarked to go out one by one, as the unfortunate scrapes them off in his rapid descent. Having satisfied ourselves with a near inspection of this really wonderful and costly exhibition, we returned to view it at a distance from the summit of the Pincian.
FOOTNOTES:
[40] That artists are sometimes grievously hard up, there can be little doubt. I happened one cold morning, to call upon N——, whose absence from his usual seat at the Lepri had been remarked by many of us. Instead of finding him, as I had anticipated, unusually busy with his chisel, he was engaged in shooting his dinner at the open window of the garret, which commanded an extensive range of leads, tiles and gutters. His sport, which he pursued in solemn silence, was the common sparrow, and his weapon a machine much in use among lawyers’ clerks when the principal has turned his back, known by the name of a puff and dart, from which any one with a good pair of lungs, can expel pin with great force. Having knocked over nearly a dozen birds, N—— walked out of window to collect them, and then plucked and spitted them, enjoying his repast with a thankful relish unknown to those who get a good dinner every day.
CHAPTER XXVI.
TIVOLI—COUNTRY EXCURSIONS—CICILIANO—HOSPITALITY OF THE MOUNTAINEERS—THE PORTA SAN LORENZO—VISIT TO THE GOVERNOR—ANOTHER START NORTHWARD—FLORENCE—THE UFFIZII—S——, AND HIS HEAD OF VELASQUEZ—THE FLOOD OF THE ARNO—MR. M.—LORD D.—UNEXPECTED SUMMONS—PISA—LEGHORN—GENOA—THE “DILIGENCE”—ALESSANDRIA—TURIN—THE RAILWAY DEPUTATION—EXPEDITION TO THE MONT CENIS—SUSA—BARDONECHE—MY FRIEND B.’S MOUNTAIN RAMBLE—SUCCESSFUL “JODELN”—THE VALLEY OF THE DORA SUSA—DEPARTURE FROM TURIN—CONCLUSION.
The “Holy Week” and its ceremonies concluded, and Raven having left for Marseilles on his way homewards, a few of us made up a party for Tivoli. Some rode, while the rest, preferring the dreary march over the Campagna, were overtaken by a Roman shower, which thoroughly soaked them to the skin before they reached the appointed rendezvous at Salvi’s hotel. We had intended to devote the next day to a walk as far as Vicovaro, but having chosen a most unfortunate time for our excursion, had got only about three-fourths of the way there, when such a drencher poured down upon us, whilst in a totally unsheltered part of the road, that we were compelled to take refuge in a little straw wine-house, about as big as a hay-cock, which was already occupied by the family of the proprietor, half-a-dozen surly dogs, and myriads of fleas. Amusing ourselves by transferring the faces of the children to our sketch-books, we remained until an opening in the black clouds above promised some abatement of the rain, and then, sallying forth, made a quick march back to the hotel, where a roaring fire welcomed us very opportunely. In the evening, our little party was enlivened by a visit from Count H. le Grice and Captain D——, who had for some months been enjoying the retirement of the Palazzo Santa Croce. The latter amused us with some exciting stories of a long campaign n the Peninsula, and proposed, if the morrow should prove more propitious, a donkey-excursion to the distant village of Ciciliano. We therefore ordered a number of animals to be in readiness, and finding, when we arose, that the clouds of the preceding day had entirely disappeared, we made a start after breakfast, and had a delightful, though somewhat wearying ride, to the little village, which lies embosomed among the mountains, at a considerable elevation above the valley through which our road had led us.
The scenery is of a wild and charming character, and it is extraordinary that these secluded regions are not more often visited by those who profess to travel in search of the picturesque. Toiling up the hill, which conducted us to the quaint little town, we halted before the best-looking house therein, and deposited at the door a mule-load of brocoli and lemons, which we intended as an offering to the padrone, who was personally known to some of our party. The good man was absent on business in a neighbouring village, but his wife, an agreeable and most intelligent-looking woman, gave us a hearty welcome, cooked us a large dish of home-made sausages, and supplied us with wine and cheese ad libitum. We staid but an hour or two, to recruit ourselves and the tired mules, but our kind hostess, with that liberality which distinguishes the peasants of the Appenines, had already prepared our beds and lamps, and would scarcely hear of our going away the same day. In order, too, that we might the more effectually enjoy ourselves, the kind creature had gathered about her all the rural beauty of Ciciliano, and one or two dark-looking fellows, with their guitars, in the hope of tempting us with an evening dance, and the excitement of a genuine Saltarello. It would be difficult to say whether they or we were the more disappointed, but we had made up our minds to return, and feeling also that the unexpected intrusion of a party of seven would be taxing her hospitality too severely, we saddled our mules and bade them addio. The next morning broke so temptingly, that we lounged it away at the Falls, whose cool grots and rushing waters were seldom enjoyed to greater advantage.
As I had ridden out to Tivoli, I varied the pleasures of the excursion by walking home. My friend Flake proved a most agreeable companion, and we walked and talked to such good purpose, that the weary length of road over the campagna was almost unnoticed, saving that I had become so lame, that I was obliged to take off one boot and suspend it by a string over my shoulder. At length we reached the Porta San Lorenzo, through which we were quietly proceeding, when some functionary, emerging from a chamber in the wall, arrested our farther progress by demanding our passports. We had none; and our carte di sicurezza were safe in our respective drawers where we had left them. We were therefore detained, and presently discovered that nothing short of a visit to the Governor of Rome would satisfy the officious gate-keeper. The good man evidently flattered himself that our seedy artistical garb disguised a pair of very dangerous foreigners, and having invested himself in a suitable habit, he appropriated an arm of each of us, and strode forward with becoming importance towards the church of Santa Maria Maggiore. Flake and I, however, were foot-sore and weary, and not relishing the eclat of being marched through the streets in the clutch of a dirty gate-keeper, we chartered the first empty coach that came in our way, and treated our body-guard with a ride to the “Polizia.” The Governor of Rome was, like other reasonable men, at his dinner; but a good-natured clerk who had eaten his two hours before, referred to his books, and finding that our names were duly inscribed therein, and that had we not forgotten our papers we should have been perfectly en regle, he dismissed us with many apologies for the inconvenience we had experienced, and bestowing a few words of approval on our friend of the gate, told him to get back as fast as he could to his duties.