Letters from Europe

No. 3

Genoa, November 5, 1842.

Messrs: Editors,-In my last letter, I said I had finished my description of Genoa, and would try to carry you over it with me in detail. I had thought of taking you through the churches; but I find it quite impossible. It is one thing to stand in the Nave of a Church, with the lofty arches above you, resting on massive columns of the richest marble-the long colonnades before you going up to the main altar, and paintings and statutes and marble of every description and form, scattered all around you, ;while far in the distance ascends the solemn chant of priests and the smoke of incense-and quite another thing to say here was a fine painting, and there another beautiful column, &c., &c. It is impossible for one to stand in one of these churches, filled with a "a dim religious gloom," the prostrate multitude around him, and the universal chant echoing away amid the distant arches, without a feeling of awe. He cannot escape it, except by fixing his attention on some particular part of the great farce, when the imposing deception vanishes away, and the sounds around him become only the senseless mummeries of deluded men. It was so with me yesterday,-It was some festival day for the dead. A large coffin, covered with a pall, was elevated on one side of the church, surrounded by immense wax candles and the kneeling forms of men. In front before the great altar, with his back to the multitude, stood a priest, gorgeously robed-while farther on arose the chant of many priests. I glided on through the throng, my feelings subdued by the solemn pageantry around me, until passing near the main alter [altar], a sort of box, I saw a fat priest sitting within, wrapped in his robe, and apparently asleep. On passing round the other side, however, I observed a female kneeling with her mouth close to a piece of tin that was punched full of holes, like a strainer, to give a free passage of the voice, while against the inside lay, close and snug, the ear of the priest. It might have been imaginary, but there seemed to be in his very attitude a quiet scorn of the ridiculous farce in which he was playing a part. In a moment my awe was changed into contempt, and I left the gorgeous church with pity and scorn both in my heart‚-pity for the ignorant, sincere, yet misguided people, and scorn for the heartless, licentious priesthood. The remark is often made in our country, that the Protestants do not render to the Catholics what charity demands, To the people we may not-to the priests we render too much. The testimony of Scipio de Bicci, Bishop of Prato and Pistoria in Tuscany, is sufficient to damn the clergy forever. Throughout Tuscany it was proved, by the prioresses of convents themselves, that "the monks were on more intimate terms with the nuns, than if they were married to them"-that universally "the priests are the husbands of the nuns, and lay brothers of the lay sisters" For his faithfulness, the learned bishop was persecuted and imprisoned, and the corruptions left untouched. But the progress of civilization and freedom of thought sends its influence even here. People scan more closely the actions of the clergy, and the Vatican no longer holds kings in such awe of its thunder as formerly. The Austrian Emperor has prohibited convents in his possessions; and the burden that the overstocked and thriftless priesthood imposes, is deeply felt by all. The reverence for signs and symbols is fast passing from the earth. Man begins to assert his individual right and personal worth. But here it is infinitely less so than with us. Men are held by outward forms, and a star or a ribbon is worn with ostentatious pride, to catch the wonder of the gaping multitude. The church, especially, has times of great display, that dazzles and bewilders the ignorant. Yesterday I stepped into a magnificient [magnificent] church, decorated in honor of its patron Saint. Each church has its own Saint, as its peculiar patron. Each Saint has its peculiar day, or festival, in honor of itself, on which services are performed, chimes rung, &c., &c. This was the day of the patron Saint of the church; and if richness and magnificence could propitiate his favor, it was most certainly secured. As I entered through the gloomy portals, I was almost struck blind by the blaze of light that burst upon me. From the marble floor to the high-arched and richly wrought roof, it was one pile of wealth, and splendor. Wax tapers, 8 or 10 feet long, were burning on every side of the building, and before the altars-while chandelier rising above chandelier, made of solid silver, and loaded with lustres [luster's] hung by silken scarfs between the massive columns, which, in their turn, were wrapped from the plinth to the capital in crimson damask, laced with gold. Silk festoons were stretched between them, sparkling with diamonds; while amid and under all was the dark, dense crowed, bowing in silent worship. Two of the lamps were of solid gold. As I stood dazzled and silent amid this splendor, and heard the slow, deep chant begin and swell out over the throng, I could almost forgive them their credulity. It is by such outward desplay [display], and not by its internal worth, that the Catholic Church holds its sway over the people. The churches of Genoa are not so magnificient [magnificent] as some in the South of Italy; but they have less

tinsel work, and are distinguished above all, for the richness and real value of their ornaments.

Their is but one place of Protestant worship in the city, and that is a small room hired by the English; and the services, of course, are those of the Established Church of England. Our squadron has just arrived from Mahon, to winter here, and they have two chaplains aboard, who will have Protestant service in their respective vessels every Sabbath, Mahon has long been our Naval depot in the Mediterranean, and furnishes one of the best harbors in the South of Europe for vessels of war. But the inhabitants are a lawless set; and assassinations of our men have become so frequent, while the police is so remiss, that Commodore Morgan told me he would stay no longer. He had just lost an officer by the knife of an assassin; and he deemed it wrong to expose the lives of his men and officers where the government could neither furnish security, nor grant redress. His lady informed me that this lawlessness was owing to the disbanding of a Spanish regiment on the island, which lived only by crime. Our fleet has never wintered here, on account of the harbor; but it must be perfectly safe. The 74 gun ship Columbus is moored, where, as the captain told me, if she can be driven ashore, she may go.-The purser said he hoped our Government would remove the Naval depot from Mahon, as the society and customs of the place were almost sure to ruin the young officers of the vessels.

The Genoese took it as a great compliment to have one of our largest vessels of the line, bearing the name of their great Navigator, enter the harbor. Genoa has the strictest police regulations; and the allurements to vice are less than in any other city of Italy, or perhaps of Southern Europe. Hence its moral influence on our Navy would be far preferable to that it has hitherto been exposed to in the Mediterranean. It was extremely gratifying to my feelings, as an American, to see so gallant a ship enter the harbor and send her salute echoing amid these old time-worn palaces. The Congress and Fairfield will be here soon, and then we shall have more naval force in the harbor than the whole Sardinian Government can muster.

The United States Consul and myself had visited Italy together, for our health; and finding Genoa too damp and cold, took a palace six miles out of the city, so exposed to the sun, and so sheltered from the tramoutane, that flowers bloom in the garden the winter through. The Vice Consul, on the arrival of our squadron, immediately despatched [dispatched] a messenger to the Consul. We rode to town together, expecting to go aboard that afternoon; but finding it too late, and that the boat which had been waiting with the officer on shore two hours, had returned, it was deferred till next day. I left the Consul in town, and returned to our palace.-The next day I had fixed to ascend Mount Gazza, on which, it was said, there was a large cavern filled with the most beautiful stalactites, almost equal in beauty, to agate. Our valet was sent to town, and so I took a Genoese guide, with basket and hammer in his hand and started off. At the outset I found I had made a great mistake, for he could talk nothing but Genoese; and for the first two or three miles, I could not make him understand even what 'ca verna' meant. I soon, however, as the Yankees say, 'got the hang of his lingo,' and could understand him very well. For six weary miles we trudged on over a path where a mule would have broke his neck, till at length we reached a lofty summit, that seemed to overlook creation; when to my astonishment, my guide had called a grotto a cave, while the grotto was simply a chapel erected to the Madonna on that far up desolate [desolate] peak, by the people of Sestri, to protect their village. In the front, under an archway, stood the Madonna herself, about 20 feet high, I should judge-at least her little finger was as big as my arm-with her hands spread out over the distant village that lay sleeping quietly in the sunshine below. In the valley it was so warm, that I had sought the shade for shelter; but the ice was round where I stood. Below me was Genoa, Nervi, Sempeerniraniso, Cœneliania, Pegli, Voltri-palaces, orange groves, vineyards, and the broad gulf dotted with white sails, till the eye wearied with expanding prospect. On my right, ridge on ridge, peak above peak, towered away the Mountain of Piedmont, with their snow summits white as piles of silver, against the clear blue sky. Behind me were rolled along the heavens, mountains as black and barren as the top of Horeb, stretching on to Turin, with nothing to relieve the dismal prospect but two fortresses, perched on the very top of two sharp peaks, and the spire of a church, faintly pencilled [penciled] against the heavens-one created to protect the road in the interior by cannon, and the other to the Madonna, who, from that immense height, was supposed to protect the passage by divine aid. Disappointed in my cavern, I was, however, repaid by the prospect I had enjoyed. The mountain furnishes some of the finest specimens of Asbestos. As I sat mid-way down it, gathering some very beautiful ones, I heard the thunder of cannon as the echo rolled over the bay, and slowly passed up the deep ravines around me, and soon after saw the smoke spreading itself upon the atmosphere. It was the salute of the ship of war to our Consul, as

he boarded her. The Commodore, as a mark of particular respect, ordered a larger salute than is usually granted to officers of Consular rank.

We live in a very beautiful palace, hung with rich paintings; the walls painted in frescoe [fresco], and the whole building surrounded by delightful grounds: In approaching it you first enter an iron gate and pass up between two rows of trees and two green hedges to another huge gate, that opens into the area in front of the palace. At one side of the gate is a marble lion, standing with one foot on the world. A little farther, on the opposite side, stands one of the ancient Senators of Genoa. At the foot of the first flight of steps is another lion. Ascending these you enter the main court, supported by two immense columns;-and passing up the second flight, come into the main hall a very large room, hung with ancient pictures. The other rooms correspond with these-all furnished in rich style, with every thing except linen and table service; and yet the whole cost but I45 [145] Francs a month. The yard in front, which is lined with marble statutes, is now yellow with the ripening orange.

Palaces are abundant in Genoa. Some of them are most superb. Built of the richest marble, on their interior is lavished almost exhaustless wealth. The palace of the Marquis of Palaiseino is close beside us; and in repairing the grounds alone, the Marquis has spent $100,000. I have been over the Royal Palace, even to the bed rooms of the ladies, but find it impossible to describe it with any correctness. The Serra Palace has two remarkable rooms, one of which has been called the 'Palace of the Sun.' In the richness of its tapestry, the splendor of its chandeliers, and other furniture, it cannot be surpassed. It cost alone about $200,000. The marques [marquis] di Negro has a most picturesque situation on one of the eminences of the Appenines [Apennines], with grottoes and cascades, and furnishing an extensive view of the city and bay. In passing by one statue, that stood in a niche of the building, I was struck with surprise by the inscription: 'Alla Memoria del Washington.' Affectionately yours, Y.