The Velletri fireworks were certainly a failure; the population understands genuflexions better than squibs and crackers; but the illumination, which consisted of large pots of grease placed on posts at intervals of a yard down every street, had really a very good effect, and might afford a good hint for cheap illuminations in England. What is most remarkable to an Englishman on such occasions is, the total absence of drunkenness and the admirable and courteous conduct of the people to each other. It seemed to me that the population never slept; they were perambulating the streets chanting "Viva Pio Nono" all night; and, at 8 o'clock this morning, there was the same crowd, with the same excitement. I went early to the Papal Palace to witness the reception of the different deputations; but, notwithstanding my activity, I arrived one of the last, and on being shown into a waiting-room found myself standing in a motley group of generals of every clime, priests in every variety of costume, judges, embassadors, and noble guards. A long suite of ten rooms was thrown open, and probably the old and tapestried walls had never witnessed so strange a sight before as the gallery presented. There was a kind of order and degree preserved in the distribution of the visitors. The first room mostly contained priests of the lower ranks, in the second were gentlemen in violet colored dresses, looking proud and inflated; then came a room full of officers, then distinguished strangers, among whom might be seen General Baraguay d'Hilliers, Count Ludolf, the Neapolitan embassador, the Princes Massimo, Corsini, Ruspoli, Cesareni, all covered with stars, ribbons, and embroidery. The door of each room was kept by the municipal troops, who were evidently very new to the work, for the pages in their pink silk dresses might be seen occasionally instructing them in the salute. Presently there was a move, every one drew back for Cardinal Macchi; he is the doyen of the college, and, as Archbishop of Velletri, appeared in his brightest scarlet robes—a fit subject for the pencil of the great masters. He was followed by Cardinals Asquini and Dupont in more modest garb, and each as he passed received and gracefully acknowledged the homage of the crowd. While we were standing waiting, two priests in full canonicals marched by with stately steps, preceded by the cross, and bearing the consecrated elements which they were to administer to the Pope; they remained with him about twenty minutes, and again the doors were thrown open, and they came out with the same forms. The Sacrament was succeeded by the breakfast service of gold, which it would have made any amateurs of Benvenuto Cellini's workmanship envious to see. At last the breakfast was ended, and I began to hope there was some chance of our suspense terminating, when there was a great movement among the crowd at one end of the gallery, the pages rushed to their posts, flung back the two doors, and the Prime Minister, Cardinal Antonelli, entered. Standing in that old palace, and gazing on the Priest Premier, I could realize the times of Mazarin and Richelieu. Neither of these could have possessed a haughtier eye than Antonelli, or carried themselves more proudly: every action spoke the man self-possessed and confident in the greatness of his position. He is tall, thin, about forty-four or forty-five, of a dark and somewhat sallow complexion, distinguished not by the regularity or beauty of his features, but by the calmness and dignity of their expression. As the mass moved to let him pass to the Papal apartments at the other extremity of the gallery, there was nothing flurried in his manner or hurried in his step—he knew to a nicety the precise mode of courtesy which he should show to each of his worshipers; for instance, when the French general—ay, the rough soldier of the camp—bent to kiss his hand, he drew it back, and spoke a few low, complimentary words as he bowed low to him, always graciously, almost condescendingly. When the Roman princes wished to perform the same salute his hand met their lips half-way. When the crowd of abbes, monks, priests, and deacons, seized it, it passed on unresistingly from mouth to mouth, as though he knew that blessing was passing out of him, but that he found sufficient for all. I was beginning to marvel what had become of my little friend of the preceding evening, Don Pietro, when I observed a slight stoppage, occasioned by some one falling at the Cardinal's feet. It was Don Pietro. He had knelt down to get a better hold of the hanging fringes, and no power could withdraw them from his lips; he appeared determined to exhaust their valuable savor, and, for the first time, I saw a smile on Antonelli's countenance, which soon changed into a look of severity, which so frightened the little abbate that he gave up his prey. Cardinal Antonelli went in to the Pope, and expectation and patience had to be renewed. Then came all the deputations in succession, men with long parchments and long faces of anxiety. There could not have been less than eight or ten of these, who all returned from the interview looking very bright and contented, ejaculating "Quanto e buono! quanto buono!" To my great disappointment, a very officious little gentleman, who, it appears, is a nephew of Cardinal Borroneo, and who, only two days since, had been appointed a kind of deputy master of the ceremonies, informed me that it was very unlikely His Holiness could receive any more people, as he had to go out at eleven, which fact was confirmed by the Papal couriers, who marched, booted and spurred, whip in hand, into the ante-room. This announcement had scarcely been made, when Cardinal Antonelli appeared and informed us that the Pope would receive two or three at a time, but that they must not stop long. The first batch consisted of "our own correspondent;" Don Flavio Ghigi, I looked round to see who was the third, it was the little abbate. As we entered the presence chamber, I made an inclination, but, to my surprise, both Don Flavio and Don Pietro rushed forward. The Ghigi gracefully, and with emotion, kissed the Sovereign's foot, and then his hand, which was extended to him. His Holiness had evidently been greatly excited. He took Don Flavio by the hand, saying, "Rise up, my son, our sorrows are over." Meanwhile Don Pietro had embraced not merely the foot, but the ankle. Vainly the Pope bade him rise. At last he exclaimed, looking at the little man with wonder, "Eh! Ché Don Pietro con una barba!" "Ah," said the unclerical priest, not in any degree taken by surprise, "Since our misfortunes, your Holiness, I never had the heart to shave." "Then, now that happier times are come, we shall see your face quite clean," was the Pope's reply. More genuflexions, more embracings, and away we went. After a few minutes' delay, the gentlemen of the chamber gave notice that His Holiness was about to pass; he was preceded by priests bearing the crucifix, and this time wore a rich embroidered stole; his benevolent face lighted up as he blessed all his servants who knelt on his passage. He has a striking countenance, full of paternal goodness; nor does his tendency to obesity interfere with the dignity of his movements. Some half-dozen Capuchins fell down before him, and the guards had some difficulty in making them move out of the way. As the Pope moved he dispensed his blessing to the right and to the left. Meanwhile a great crowd had collected outside. When he appeared he was enthusiastically cheered. He entered his carriage—the scarlet couriers kicked, cracked, and spurred—the troops all knelt—the band played some strange anthem, for he has become rather tired of "Viva Pio Nono," with which he has no agreeable associations—and the pageant passed away.
I was compelled to decline the invitation from the Council of State; and, soon after his Holiness's departure, I started for Rome, in order to arrive before the gates were shut, for the passport system is in the strictest operation. All along the road fortunately the preparations have taken the turn of cleanliness—whitewash is at a premium. At Genzano and Albano the woods of Dunsinane seem to be moving through the towns. At the former place I saw General Baraguay d'Hilliers, who had to send to Albano for two cutlets and bread, the supplies of Genzano being exhausted. The Pope leaves Velletri to-morrow, Friday, 12th, at 8 o'clock. At Genzano the Neapolitan troops leave him, and are replaced by the French; at Albano he breakfasts, and enters Rome at 4 o'clock. Preparations are making for a grand illumination, and the town is all alive.
Rome, Friday Evening, April 12.
The history of the last two years has taught us to set very little reliance on any demonstrations of public opinion. But for this sad experience I should have warmly congratulated the Pope and his French advisers on the success of their experiment, and augured well of the new Roman era from the enthusiasm which has ushered it in. It is true that there was wanting the delirious excitement which greeted our second Charles on his return from a sixteen years' exile; nor were the forms of courtly etiquette broken through as on that memorable 21st of March, when Napoleon, accompanied by Cambronne and Bertrand dashed into the court of the Tuileries and was borne on the shoulders of his troops into the Salle des Maréchaux. Even the genuine heartiness, the uncalculating expression of emotion, which delighted the Pope at Frosinone and Velletri, were not found in Rome; but then it must be remembered that it was from Rome the Pope was driven forth as an exile—that shame and silence are the natural expressions of regret and repentance; so, considering every thing, the Pope was very well received. Bright banners waved over his head, bright flowers were strewn on his path, the day was warm and sunny—in all respects it was a morning albâ notanda credâ, one of the dies fasti of the reformed Papacy.
And yet the thoughts which the gorgeous scene suggested were not of unmixed gratification. French troops formed the Papal escort; French troops lined the streets and thronged St. Peter's. At first the mind was carried back to the times when Pepin, as the eldest son of the Catholic church, restored the Pope to the throne of the Apostle, and for the moment we were disposed to feel that the event and the instrument were happily associated; but a moment's glance at the tri-color standard, at the free and easy manner of the general-in-chief when he met the Pope at the gate of the Lateran, recalled the mind back to the French Republic, with all its long train of intrigue, oppression, and infatuated folly.
But, whatever the change of scene may be, it must be admitted that the drama was full of interest and the decorations magnificent. When the sun shone on the masses collected in the Piazza of St. Giovanni, and the great gates of the Lateran being thrown open the gorgeous hierarchy of Rome, with the banners of the various Basilicæ, the insignia and costume of every office issued forth, the effect was beyond measure imposing. An artist must have failed in painting, as he must have failed in composing such a picture. Precisely at 4 o'clock the batteries on the Place announced that the cortége was in view, and presently the clouds of dust blown before it gave a less agreeable assurance of its approach. The procession was headed by a strong detachment of cavalry; then followed the tribe of couriers, outriders, and officials—whom I described from Velletri—more troops, and then the Pope. As he passed the drums beat the générale, and the soldiers knelt, it was commonly reported, but I know not with what truth; it was the first time they ever knelt before the head of the church. Certainly, with the Italians church ceremonies are an instinct—the coloring and grouping are so accidentally but artistically arranged; the bright scarlet of the numerous cardinals mingling with the solemn black of the Conservatori, the ermine of the senate, the golden vestments of the high-priests, and the soberer hues of the inferior orders of the clergy. When the Pope descended from the carriage a loud cheer was raised and handkerchiefs were waved in abundance; but, alas! the enthusiasm that is valuable is that which does not boast of such a luxury as handkerchiefs. Very few people seemed to think it necessary to kneel, and, on the whole, the mass were more interested in the pageant itself than in the circumstances in which it originated. The excitement of curiosity was, however, at its height, for many people in defiance of horse and foot broke into the square, where they afforded excellent sport to the chasseurs, who amused themselves in knocking off their hats and then in preventing them from picking them up. I ran down in time to see his Holiness march in procession up the centre of the magnificent St. Giovanni. This religious part of the ceremony was perhaps more imposing than that outside the church. The dead silence while the Pope prayed, the solemn strains when he rose from his knees, the rich draperies which covered the walls and cast an atmosphere of purple light around, the black dresses and the vails which the ladies wore, mingling with every variety of uniform, stars, and ribbons, produced an admirable effect. The great object, when this ceremony was half finished, was to reach St. Peter's before the Pope could arrive there, every body, of course, starting at the same moment, and each party thinking they were going to do a very clever thing in taking a narrow roundabout way to the Ponte Sisto, so choking it up and leaving the main road by the Coliseum and the Foro Trajano quite deserted. In the palmiest days of the circus Rome could never have witnessed such chariot-racing. All ideas of courtesy and solemnity befitting the occasion were banished. The only thing was who could arrive first at the bridge. The streets as we passed through were quite deserted—it looked like a city of the dead. As we passed that admirable institution, the Hospital St. Giovanni Colabita, which is always open to public view, the officiating priests and soldiers were standing in wonder at the entrance, and the sick men raised themselves on their arms and looked with interest on the excitement occasioned by the return of the Head of that Church, to which they owed the foundation where they sought repose, and the faith that taught them hope. By the time we arrived at St. Peter's the immense space was already crowded, but, thanks to my Irish pertinacity, I soon elbowed myself into a foremost place at the head of the steps. Here I had to wait for about an hour, admiring the untiring energy of the mob, who resisted all the attempts of the troops to keep them back, the gentle expostulations of the officers, and sometimes the less gentle persuasion of the bayonet. At 6 o'clock, the banners flew from the top of Adrian's Tomb, and the roar of cannon recommenced; but again the acclamations were very partial, and, but for the invaluable pocket-handkerchiefs of the ever-sympathizing ladies, the affair must have passed off rather coldly. It was, however, very different in St. Peter's. When his Holiness trod that magnificent temple the thousands collected within its walls appeared truly impressed with the grandeur, the almost awful grandeur of the scene. The man, the occasion, and the splendor, all so striking; never was the host celebrated under a more remarkable combination of circumstances. The word of command given to the troops rang through the immense edifice, then the crash of arms, and every man knelt for some moments amid a breathless silence, only broken by the drums, which rolled at intervals. The mass was ended. St. Peter's sent forth the tens of thousands, the soldiers fell in, the pageantry was at an end. Then came the illumination, which was very beautiful, not from the brilliancy of the lights, but from its being so universal. St. Peter's was only lighted en demi-toilette, and is to appear in his glory to-morrow evening; but as the wind played among the lamps, and the flames flickered and brightened in the breeze, the effect from the Pincian was singularly graceful. The Campodoglio, that centre of triumph, was in a blaze of glory, and the statues of the mighty of old stood forth, like dark and solemn witnesses of the past, in the sea of light. But one by one the lamps died out, the silence and the darkness of the night resumed their sway, and the glory of the day became the history of the past.
Thus far prognostications have been defeated. The Pope is in the Vatican. Let us hope the prophets of evil may again find their predictions falsified; but, alas! it is impossible to be blind to the fact, that within the last few days the happiness of many homes has been destroyed, and that the triumph of the one has been purchased by the sorrows of the many. True, some 30,000 scudi have been given in charity, of which the Pope granted 25,000; but there is that which is even more blessed than food—it is liberty. There were conspiracies, it is true. An attempt was made to set fire to the Quirinal; a small machine infernale was exploded near the Palazzo Teodoli. There was the excuse for some arrests, but not for so many. But if the hand of the administration is to press too heavily on the people, the absence of prudence and indulgence on the part of the church can not be compensated for by the presence of its head. In former days of clerical ignorance and religious bigotry the master-writings of antiquity, which were found inscribed on old parchments, were obliterated to make way for missals, homilies, and golden legends, gorgeously illuminated but ignorantly expressed. Let not the church fall into the same error in these days, by effacing from its record the stern but solemn lessons of the past, to replace them by illiberal, ungenerous, and therefore erroneous views, clothed although they may be with all the pride and pomp of papal supremacy. Doubtless some time will elapse before any particular course of policy will be laid down. The Pope will for the moment bide his time and observe. No one questions his good intentions, no man puts his benevolence in doubt. Let him only follow the dictates of his own kindness of heart, chastened by his bitter experience, which will teach him alike to avoid the extremes of indulgence and the excesses of severity.
Saturday Morning, April 13.
I am glad to be able to add that the night has passed off in the most quiet and satisfactory manner, and I do not hear that in a single instance public tranquillity was disturbed. The decorations, consisting of bright colors and rich tapestry, which ornamented the windows and balconies yesterday, are kept up to-day, and the festive appearance of the city is fully maintained. There is an apparent increase of movement in all the principal thoroughfares. His Holiness is engaged to-day in receiving various deputations, but to-morrow the ceremonies will recommence with high mass at St. Peter's, after which the Pope will bless the people from the balcony, and no doubt for several days to come religious observances will occupy all the time and attention of his Holiness. I am very glad to find, from a gentleman who arrived last night, having followed the papal progress through Cesterna, Velletri, Genzano, and Albano, several hours after I had left, that the most perfect tranquillity prevailed on the whole line of road, and up to the gates of Rome, at four o'clock this morning not a single accident had occurred to disturb the general satisfaction. Of course the whole city is alive with reports of various descriptions; every body draws his own conclusions from the great events of yesterday, and indulges in vaticinations in the not improbable event of General Baraguay d'Hilliers' immediate departure, now that his mission has been accomplished. A fine field will be open for speculation. Meanwhile the presence of the sovereign has been of one inestimable advantage to the town—it has put the municipality on the alert. The heaps of rubbish have been removed from the centres of the squares and the corners of the different streets, to the great discomfiture of the tribes of hungry dogs which, for the comfort of the tired population, had not energy to bay through the night. Workpeople have been incessantly employed in carting away the remains of republican violence. I observe, however, that the causeway between the Vatican and St. Angelo, which was broken down by the mob, has not yet been touched. Are we to hail this as an omen that the sovereign will never again require to seek the shelter of the fortress, or as an evidence that the ecclesiastical and the civil power are not yet entirely united?