STREETS-HOUSES.

179 dered as an injunction, was, in reality an invitation to "throw dirt into the street." I thought within myself that this reiterated recommendation of the police was somewhat unnecessary in Rome, and Italian cities generally; but here again, I soon discovered that I had drawn a false conclusion. Of two evils we are advised to choose the lesser ;-and if dirt must exist, it is better that it should be outside than inside of the houses. In the former locality, it stands a chance of diminution by rains, winds, suns-nay, even occasionally by the scavenger :-in the latter, it must accumulate to the destruction of life as well as comfort! IMMONDEZZAIO, therefore, is a salutary precept― but it only goes half way. When the police admonishes the Romans to throw the dirt into the streets, it should do its part of the duty, and compel the removal of that dirt from the offended eyes and olfactories of strangers.

Of the narrowness of the streets I have already spoken. Foreigners have no right to object to this peculiarity of Italian towns. The inhabitants who have to stand the brunt of the Summer's suns, as well as the Winter's colds, are wise in building the houses high and the streets narrow, as affording them the surest and most effectual protection against the fierce solar beams, the suffocating sirocco, the chilling tramontane-and last, not least, the deadly MALARIA. Those, therefore, who inhabit the CORSO, the Via BABUINO, or the Strada di RIPETTA, pay dearly in Summer for the fresh air which they enjoy in Winter, as compared with that which is breathed by the Roman population in general.

If a stranger were to walk through the streets of Rome, for the first time, and without previous reading, he would be often surprised, and sometimes puzzled. While sauntering along the CORSO, for example, he could not help asking himself the question, why is the best street of Rome (though far inferior to the Strand in London) studded with so many gloomy prisons? Or, 'how is it that a population of 130,000 souls should require so many strong places of incarceration, for their bodies? After contemplating, with feelings of commiseration, one of these OLD BAILEYS, with its massive walls and iron. grated windows, frosted or fringed with cobwebs, I ventured, though not without some inquisitorial apprehensions, to enter, in blissful ignorance, within its lofty portal. I wandered round a spacious court, and observed certain vestiges of man and animals, not very sightly or savoury-but to these I was somewhat reconciled by habit. A broad marble stair-case, in keeping with the court, invited my steps; and as I saw nothing to prevent a retreat— none of those awful words, "nulla vestigia retro," I ascended, and was soon met by the gaoler, who politely invited me to view the interior. I accepted the offer, and was agreeably surprised to exchange the rough and dirty marble stairs for lengthened halls, with floors so smooth and glossy, that I quickly measured my full length on the polished surface! I had often laughed at the idea of skates being exported to a hot climate;-but I now discovered that

they were as necessary in Rome as in Moscow. Fortunately there was no other spectator of my fallen state than the gaoler, (as I then considered him,) and he assisted me most kindly to the perpendicular posture. I need hardly say that the delusion' soon vanished. I was conducted through gloomy but magnificent galleries and saloons, tenanted by the dead instead of the living -and presenting a new kind of Millennium-marble and pictorial! No living creature except the CICERONE met the eye, during the circuit of this vast mansion, which I had mistaken for a prison-and he had the emolument, if not the pleasure, of doing all the honours of his Lord and Master, at a period of the day, when the latter is invisible.

The taste which erected these dreary mansions in the form of prisons, is not Roman. They were constructed in the same taste during the incarnations of Vishnou and Seeva, on the plains of Hindostan, and have been imitated by every nation between the banks of the Ganges and the shores of the Atlantic. Specimens, though on a plebian scale, are every year disinterred at Pompeii. The objects contemplated by the first constructors of these voluntary asylums, or domestic fortresses, were, doubtless, privacy and security. The forms were kept up and modified by habit, pride, and the annihilation of all wholesome equilibrium in the distribution of property. This INEQUILIBRIUM is strikingly illustrated in the streets of Rome. We see the most gorgeous palaces in actual contact-making, as it were, party-wall,' with the most sordid abodes of poverty, or the work-shops of the meanest and most annoying artisans-as blacksmiths, pewterers, &c. Thus, between the palace and the hovel, there is little or no intermedium-in other words, there are but two great classes-the bloated patrician and the wealthless worker of the soil or its products. That there is a strong tendency to this state of things is certain, from its too prevalent existence in the world; but there is also a counteracting impulse or nisus in human nature, which, if suppressed in one form, will shew itself in some other. If the road be not left open for industry and talent to acquire property and rank, the lower orders must sink into abject pauperism, or ferment into dangerous rebellion. They have taken the former channel in most parts of fair Italy-but with the "march of intellect," they will probably run the latter, and more fearful course in some other parts of the world. If wealth accumulates, beyond all reasonable proportion, in one class, and that the least numerous of society, KnowLEDGE, which is truly said to be POWER, will ultimately impel the larger and destitute class to organize physical force for the destruction of monopoly and the more equal distribution of wealth. This, it is true, will be ROBBERY, attended by blood-shed, and all kinds of crimes. But if Providence permit the hurricane to restore the equilibrium of the atmosphere, while it sweeps whole cities, with all their inhabitants, to destruction, it may sanction the storm of revolution, which subverts the foundations of society, to cure evils

INEQUILIBRIUM OF WEALTH.

181 that have been growing for ages, fostered by the blind cupidity and the avarice of the human race. The history of the world, and of human nature teaches us that example, or even experience, has little or no influence on man, when his selfish passions are concerned. He will risk all rather than lose a part. When Cato informed Ptolemy, King of Cyprus, that he might retire, with a certain part of his property, he refused. He went out to sea in a ship, with his treasures, determined to sink himself and them, in one common watery grave. His courage amounted to the destruction of himself; but it could not be wound up to the immersion of his riches in the ocean. He sailed backdeposited his money and jewels in safety for his enemies—and then committed suicide! The application of this historical fact to existing circumstances, is not difficult. Our great depositaries of wealth will not concede to measures that may sacrifice a part to preserve the remainder. They will obstinately retain all, like Ptolemy, till the moment when they must lose all !

It is obviously the interest of Popes, priests, and despots to check the dissemination of knowledge among their subjects. Such checks are the only means of procrastinating their power, whether founded on superstition or tyranny. But the gradual illumination of the human mind cannot be long retarded by any means-and much less can it be again precipitated into utter darkness by the irruption of Goths and Vandals from the North. That small, but talismanic engine, the PRESS, would foil the thrusts of ten million of bayonets, could they be collected and pointed against learning and liberty. To stop the progression of these, would not be less difficult than to hurl back the mighty waters of the Rhine to their icy sources in the Alps-check the fall of the roaring Niagara-or arrest the stream of TIME itself, of which KNOWLEDGE is a branch. Yet purblind power, imperious pride, and selfish passion will attempt these impossibilities. CHAOs may come again, though not in darkness.

Whether the tree of knowledge, when climbed by all, shall be found to yield the fruit of happiness to all, is a problem which time alone can solve. The experience of the past can throw but little light on the future, in this respect. If virtue has not always gone hand in hand with learning, it does not appear to have been from any necessary incompatibility of their coexistence. The same progress of civilization which gives energy to literature and science, gives also activity and growth to vice!

One thing, however, appears probable; namely, that in proportion as knowledge becomes more equally diffused, its acquisition will be less highly esteemed. What is possessed by all can confer distinction on none. Hence the equalization of learning, arts, and sciences, will be the most mighty of all LEVELLERS. Nor will it be necessary for this levelling system, that the attainment of knowledge should go wide and deep through every ramification of society. Far from it. A certain amount'and a certain dissemination of

this precious but dangerous commodity will work wonders-whether of good or evil!.

Hitherto the heads of a few have guided the hands of the many-and one channel of thought has fed and set in motion ten thousand springs of action. Ere long, each brain will think for itself, and plan for the common weal, If, in such case, there be any lack of wisdom, it certainly will not be from want of multiplicity of counsellors! Such a state of things is rapidly approaching -nor can it be prevented, even on this oppressed soil, by the Austrian bayonet or Papal crosier. Human wisdom may do much to mitigate the evil, if it be one, by meeting it half way, and lessening the impetus of the revolution. Obstinacy may render the collision of two extremes most awful and destructive!

But this is a digression-a train of reflexions which floated in my mind, while the cicerone of the mansion wasted his pictorial—or rather his parrot learning on my unconscious ear. He doubtless considered me, and I fear with much justice, one of the most stupid and incurious visitors that ever handed him five pauls at the end of the circuit. And yet he made me as low a bow, at parting, as ever obsequious parasite made to minister or minion of a court.

I formerly alluded to the silence of the streets of Rome. This, however, relates to the "hum of man," and not to the clattering of hammers-to vocal, not instrumental music. In no city of the world, hardly excepting Birmingham, is there heard more discordant sounds than in the capital of this land of music. In Rome and Naples, no trade, at least no noisy trade, is kept a mystery, except that of religion, which takes care to join in the chorus. Every artisan who wields a sledge, brandishes a hammer, grates a file, turns a lathe, or impels a chisel, pursues his avocations in open shops, and in the best streets, close to the ear of the deafened passenger. This "concord of sweet sounds" is somewhat mellowed and varied by the solemn chauntings from the numberless churches, and the never-ending dirge of CARITA from the army of mendicants! If there were no other draw-backs on happiness or even common enjoyment, than the sight and solicitation of beggars, I would not live in Italy, with the palace and revenue of the richest cardinal. Time must, of course, reconcile the eyes and ears of my countrymen and countrywomen, to the sights and sounds of wretchedness, penury, deformity, and disease, in all the "sad variety of woe ;"-else they would fly from the daily and hourly contemplation of their species in the lowest depth of dirt, degradation, and despair !*

* “The Romans," says a spirited traveller, Mr. Galiffe, “are a sullen, pale, spiritless, morose people. They hardly ever speak, except to beg alms, which, when offered, they absolutely tear from the giver, without taking the trouble to thank him, and without shewing the least satisfaction at having

While surveying, with aching and humiliated heart, these swarms of loathsome and horrible objects, the impious question has sometimes flashed across my mind-can these crawling wretches be destined for a bright immortality in the skies, denied to the noble and instinctive animals who never deviate from the laws and forms impressed on them by the hand of their Creator? Such impious thoughts, however, are soon quelled by the reflection that, whether raised above, or sunk below the level of the brute creation around him, MAN has still that awful gift of responsibility-REASON, whether it be dormant or developed-cloathed in rags, or crowned with diadems. He alone, of all created beings, has the power and the permission to sink beneath his rank in the great scale of animated nature—and he alone ought to suffer the penalty. Those too, who, as rulers, contribute to this degradation of their fellow-creatures, will have to answer for their conduct. Those who trample over, are still more guilty than those who are trampled down!

I bear as great an aversion to that tip-staff of antiquity, the Roman Cicerone, as to the London bailif. They both abridge the liberty of the subject -and to neither of them do I ever wish to give employment. Here, as elsewhere, I indulged my peripatetic propensities, perambulating alone through the streets of the eternal city, by day and by night, in the full enjoyment of solitude and meditation-of first impressions, and of undisturbed reflections. By this procedure I saw a great deal more than the CICERONE would have shewn me, without being compelled to listen to endless conjectures. My object in Rome was not so much to hear the fictions of the past, as to see the realities of the present. Time did not permit, and inclination did not lead me to spend all my hours in exploring an endless series of monotonous churches and palaces. Some fifty of the former and half-dozen of the latter sufficed to satisfy my curiosity on those points. I wandered in preference through almost every street and lane on both sides of the Tiber ;—where I was enabled to see with my own eyes, and permit the current of thought to take its natural course, instead of listening to the perpetual chatter of the Cicerone.

It was in one of these desultory peregrinations, and while carefully steering between stinking fish, pungent onions, rotten cabbages, and reeking entrails of animals—while nauseating the sight and the sale of skinned frogs, creeping snails, blinking owls, prickly hedgehogs, stale cats, unclean vultures, sable

obtained them. The whole nation seems tired of its existence, and waiting for the sleep of death, walking, seeing, hearing, every act, in short, seems to be a painful exertion of exhausted mind and body. I never saw one of them smile."

The above is an exaggerated picture; and is by far too sweeping in its application. The Italians seem by no means tired of their existence, notwithstanding the wretchedness in which many of them are immersed.