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Page 15
In the political struggle for the New Italy, Rome had the same
symbolic character. Mazzini was never so eloquent as when portraying
the glories of the free Rome that was to be recognized, indeed, as the
mother of us all. The Eternal City, he believed, was to be the
regenerating influence, not only for Europe but for all the world. All
the romantic enthusiasm of Garibaldi flamed forth at the sight of
Rome. All other triumphs signified nothing till Rome was the
acknowledged capital of Italy. Silently and steadily Cavour worked
toward the same end. And at last Rome gathered to herself the glory
of the heroes who were not her own children.
If we recognize the symbolic and representative character of Roman
history, we can begin to understand the reason for the bewilderment
which comes to the traveler who attempts to realize it in imagination.
Roman history is not, like the tariff, a local issue. The most
important events in that history did not occur here at all, though
they were here commemorated. So it happens that every nation finds
here its own, and reinforces its traditions. In the Middle Ages, the
Jewish traveler, Benjamin of Tudela, found much to interest him. In
Rome were to be found two brazen pillars of Solomon's Temple, and
there was a crypt where Titus hid the holy vessels taken from
Jerusalem. There was also a statue of Samson and another of Absalom.
The worthy Benjamin doubtless felt the same thrill that I did when
looking up at the ceiling of the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore. I was
told that it was gilded with the first gold brought from America. The
statement, that the church was founded on this spot because of a
vision that came to Pope Liberius in the year 305 A.D., left me
unmoved. It was of course a long time ago; but then, I had no mental
associations with Pope Liberius, and there was no encyclop�dia at hand
in which I might look him up. Besides, "the church was re�rected by
Sixtus III in the year 432, and was much altered in the twelfth
century." But the gold on the ceiling was a different matter. That was
romantically historical. It came from America in the heroic age. I
thought of the Spanish galleons that brought it over, and of Columbus
and Cort�s and Alvarado. After that, to go into the Church of Santa
Maria Maggiore was like taking a trip to Mexico.
In the course of my daily walks, I passed the Church of Santa
Pudenziana, said to be the oldest in Rome, and recently modernized. It
is on the spot where Pudens, the host of St. Peter, is said to have
lived with his daughters Praxedis and Pudentiana. This is interesting,
but the English-speaking traveler is likely to pass by Pudaentiana's
church, and seek out the church of her sister St. Praxed. And this not
for the sake of St. Praxed or her father Pudens or even of his guest
St. Peter, but for the sake of a certain English poet who had visited
the church once.
Close to the Porta San Paolo is the great tomb of the Roman magnate,
Gaius Cestius, which was built before the birth of Christ. One can
hardly miss seeing it, because it is near one of the most sacred
pilgrimage places of Rome, the grave of John Keats.
Each traveler makes his own Rome; and the memories which he takes away
are the memories which he brought with him.
III
As for my friend Bagster, now that he has come to Rome, I hope he may
stay long enough to allow it to produce a more tranquilizing effect
upon him. When he gives up the attempt to take it all in by an
intellectual and moral effort, he may, as the saying is, "relax."
There is no other place in which one may so readily learn the meaning
of that misused word "urbanity." Urbanity is the state of mind adapted
to a city, as rusticity is adapted to the country. In each case the
perfection of the adaptation is evidenced by a certain ease of manner
in the presence of the environment. There is an absence of fret and
worry over what is involved in the situation. A countryman does not
fret over dust or mud; he knows that they are forms of the good earth
out of which he makes his living. He may grumble at the weather, but
he is not surprised at it, and he is ready to make the best of it.
This adaptation to nature is easy for us, for we are rustics by
inheritance. Our ancestors lived in the open, and kept their flocks
and were mighty hunters long before towns were ever thought of. So
when we go into the woods in the spring, our self-consciousness leaves
us and we speedily make ourselves at home. We take things for granted,
and are not careful about trifles. A great many things are going on,
but the multiplicity does not distract us. We do not need to
understand.
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