, said Gregory, if we
have an iron bridge in Rome, we shall next have an iron road; and if we
have an iron road, "_adio_," the papacy will take its departure, and
that by steam.

But the Pope had another reason for withholding his sanction from the
iron bridge; and as that reason shows how some wretched crotchet,
springing from their miserable system, is sure to start up on all
occasions, and defeat the most needed improvement, I shall here state
what it was. At the point where it was wished to have the bridge
erected, the Tiber flows between two populous regions of the city. There
is in consequence a considerable concourse, and the passengers are
carried over, as I have said, in a ferry-boat, for which a couple of
baiocchi is paid by each person to the ferryman. The money thus
collected forms part of the revenues of a certain church in Rome, where
the priests who receive it sing masses for the souls in purgatory. If
you abolish the ferry-boat, it was argued, you will abolish the penny;
and if you abolish the penny, what is to become of the poor souls in
purgatory? and for the sake of the _souls_, the _living_ were forced to
do without the bridge.

I need scarcely say that there is no gas in Rome. And sure I am, if
there be a dark spot in all the universe,--a place above all others
needing light of all kinds, moral, mental, and physical,--it is this
dark dungeon termed Rome. It has a few oil-lamps, swung on cords, at
most respectable distances from one another; and you see their hazy,
sickly, dying gleam far above you, making themselves visible, but
nothing besides; and after sunset, Rome is plunged in darkness,
affording ample opportunity for assassinations, robberies, and evil
deeds of all kinds. I know not how many companies have been formed to
light Rome with gas. An attempt was made to light in this way the
Eternal City during the pontificate of Gregory XVI. A deputation went to
the Vatican, and told the Pope that they would light his capital with
gas. "Gas!" exclaimed Gregory, who had an owl-like dread of light of all
kinds; "there shan't be gas in Rome while I am in Rome." Gregory is not
in Rome now; Pio Nono is in the Vatican: but the same oil-lamps which
lighted the Rome of Gregory XVI. still flourish in the Rome of Pio
Nono.[4]

All have heard of the Pontine Marshes,--a chain of swamps which run
along the foot of the Volscian Mountains, and are the birthplace of the
malaria,--a white vapour, which creeps s