Faraday to Elizabeth Gray   21 and 24 December 1814

Rome: December 21, 1814.

Dear Sister,-

...

When I think of you, the first image that forms in my mind is that of what I left you. Things appear unchanged, and the same now they were a twelve-month ago - Mr. G[ray] is working before the screen, you behind it, and Sarah¹ is taking her first steps. ‘Tis true I can fancy changes, and do fancy them; but it is a thousand to one that I fancy them true, and these fancies chase one another about until the whole becomes confused and rubbed out, and the first and last strong and clear impression remains undisturbed and uninjured, not to be removed by the imagination, but by facts.

Saturday, December 24th. - Hail to the season! May it bring every blessing down upon you; may it fill your hearts with gladness and your minds with contentment; may it come smiling as the morn which ushers in the glorious light of a summer’s day, and may it never return to see you in sorrow and trouble! My heart expands to the idea that Christmas is come, for I know that my friends, in the midst of their pleasures, will think of me. Amongst you, Friendship will celebrate it - here ‘tis Religion. You will have sincerity amongst you, and we hypocrisy. This is a season in which modern Rome shows forth her spirit; her churches (in number innumerable) are filled with the crowd, who in the same hour fill the streets with licentiousness and riot. For the last week no balls have been allowed, and no theatres or places of amusement were or are yet opened. To-night the religious rites begin at Sante Maria Maggiore (a beautiful church) in honour of the Virgin; and the child Jesus will be represented in a beautiful cradle richly decked with jewels and gold. Masses will be performed at this church all night; and to-morrow all the other churches will be open - St. Peter’s amongst the rest. After tomorrow, the Pope² loses his power for a week or more, and the Carnival begins; and this Carnival raises all my expectations, for the accounts I have heard of it make it a scene of confusion and folly. Professed fools (deserving of the title) parade the streets, and hold fearful combats armed with sugar-plums. Religious clowns and every other kind of character fill the streets, and the whole world goes in masks. The theatres are opened. Puppet-shows shine in every corner, and the Italian character blazes in its full vigour. Such are the scenes with which I am surrounded; but I draw from them to contemplate those I fancy passing at home, in which I hope to join again, and which to me will recur with tenfold pleasure.

But, dear Sister, though this frivolous spirit occupies the whole mind of a modern Roman, and debases that empire which once stood like a Colossus over the whole world, yet still this city, the seat of that empire, draws forth involuntary awe and respect.

How often I have wished that Mr. D. could see what I saw, that he could wander with me over the mighty wilderness of ruins the Colosseum presents - sometimes mounting, sometimes descending; walking in the steps of the ancient Romans, and leaning against the walls which resounded with their voices. Again, the ancient baths, each rich as palaces and large as towns: here their paintings are to be seen in their original station, the marble which they had worked, and the walls which they had formed. Again, the columns of Titus and Antoninus, or rather of Marcus Aurelius, enormous in size, covered with beautiful sculptures, and formed of marble.

Again, a thousand other objects, as tombs, temples, statues, pyramids, pillars, roads, &c., which continually fill the eye of a stranger. D. would be delighted with them, and his art and skill would enable him to bring faithful ideas of them home.

...

God bless the little one, and you all together. I shall never feel quite happy till I get amongst you again. I have a thousand things to say, but I do not know which to say first; and if I followed my mind I should never get to an end.

...

Adieu, dear Sister, for a time; and believe me to be, ever and unalterably, your loving and I hope beloved, brother, | M. Faraday