Ave Roma Immortalis, Vol. 1: Studies from the Chronicles of RomeCrawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion)
History
Ave Roma Immortalis, Vol. 1: Studies from the Chronicles of Rome
Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion)
Rome (Italy) -- Description and travel
The riderless race was at least four hundred years old when it was given
up. The horses were always called Bárberi, with the accent on the first
syllable, and there has been much discussion about the origin of the
name. Some say that it meant horses from Barbary, but then it should be
pronounced Barbéri, accented on the penultimate. Others think it stood
for Bárbari--barbarian, that is, unridden. The Romans never misplace an
accent, and rarely mistake the proper quantity of a syllable long or
short. For my own part, though no scholar has as yet suggested it, I
believe that the common people, always fond of easy witticisms and
catchwords, coined the appellation, with an eye to the meaning of both
the other derivations, out of Barbo, the family name of Pope Paul the
Second, who first instituted the Carnival races, and set the winning
post under the balcony of the huge Palazzo di Venezia, which he had
built beside the Church of Saint Mark, to the honour and glory of his
native city.
He made men run foot-races, too: men, youths and boys, of all ages; and
the poor Jews, in heavy cloth garments, were first fed and stuffed with
cakes and then made to run, too. The jests of the Middle Age were savage
compared with the roughest play of later times.
The pictures of old Rome are fading fast. I can remember, when a little
boy, seeing the great Carnival of 1859, when the Prince of Wales was in
Rome, and the masks which had been forbidden since the revolution were
allowed again in his honour; and before the flower throwing began, I saw
Liszt, the pianist, not yet in orders, but dressed in a close-fitting
and very fashionable grey frock-coat, with a grey high hat, young then,
tall, athletic and erect; he came out suddenly from a doorway, looked to
the right and left in evident fear of being made a mark for 'confetti,'
crossed the street hurriedly and disappeared--not at all the
silver-haired, priestly figure the world knew so well in later days. And
by and by the Prince of Wales came by in a simple open carriage, a thin
young man in a black coat, with a pale, face and a quiet smile, looking
all about him with an almost boyish interest, and bowing to the right
and left.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account