visited to obtain indulgences; of the four which have the _Porta Santa_;
and of the five patriarchal churches of Rome. The seven churches, which
are visited to obtain indulgences are, besides this, St. Peter’s in the
Vatican, St. John Lateran, Santa Maria Maggiore, Santa Croce in
Gerusalemme, San Lorenzo, _fuori delle mura_, and St. Sebastian. They
must all be visited in one day, but I cannot tell you what particular
degree or term of indulgence is obtained by the performance of this
task. The Porta Santa is a gate opened only in the years of jubilee. The
others are at the Lateran, St. Peter’s, and Santa Maria Maggiore. The
patriarchal churches should by their name be the seat of as many
patriarchs; yet I do not know that Rome ever pretended to have more than
one: the others are St. Peter, St. John Lateran, Santa Maria Maggiore,
and San Lorenzo.
On the outside, the Church of St. Paul is a great ugly barn: it would
look better if many of the windows of the upper part of the nave, or
clerestory, as it is called in Gothic churches, were not filled up; we
should then have had one uniform range of openings, but now there is
hardly any appearance of regularity or design in any part; for the lower
windows are very capriciously disposed. In the upper part of the front
is a large cove, ornamented with mosaics, which was frequently the case
in these basilican churches, but perhaps it does not date from the
erection of the building. The portico is not at all in harmony with the
rest of the church, and it is become a useless appendage, since the road
now passes by what was the back of the edifice, and you creep in by a
narrow winding passage. Internally, the space is divided into two
principal parts, the nave and transept; the apsis being merely a recess
in the transept, formed of a portion of a circle less than half. I do
not know whether I have not already praised this disposition: it is
perhaps the finest of any in point of effect, if well managed; but this
_beau ideal_ in the management must be collected from different
examples, there is no _one_, either at Rome or elsewhere, which will
completely satisfy us. Two long colonnades, forming an avenue to the
altar, support the nave. This part must not be dark, but should be
illuminated by a chastened and sober light. The transept ought to be
wide and open, and not very long; and a large window at each end, might
pour the full blaze of light on a magnificent altar of highly enriched
architecture, behind which the dark recess of the choir, or apsis, would
give increased value to the principal light. This recess itself must be
enriched. The eye will see that it is so, without precisely
distinguishing the details, and the imagination is immediately excited
to fill it with its own beauties. In all works of the fine arts, the
artist who can call in the imagination of the spectator, and direct it
in his favour, has accomplished a great object. In smaller churches, a
single range of columns on each side, is sufficient; in larger ones two
ranges, and double side aisles, enhance the variety and magnificence of
the scene. At this church of St. Paul, we have such double ranges; and
the whole is on a grand scale, since the nave is 80 feet wide, and the
entire width exceeds 200. The columns which divide the side aisles are
smaller than those of the nave, but there is the same number of each,
_i. e._ twenty in each row. Twenty-four of the larger ones are of
_pavonazzo_, a very beautiful marble, the ground of which is white, or
with a slight tinge of red or buff, and marked with purple veins. They
are finely proportioned, and perfectly well wrought, with capitals and
bases of white marble. I did not get up to examine the former, but I am
told that they are a good deal repaired with plaster. These columns are
usually said to have been taken from the mausoleum of Hadrian, but I
think Hobhouse has pretty clearly shewn, that there never were any
columns there;[46] but there can be no doubt that they are the spoils of
a building of the best ages of architecture; and perhaps in attributing
them to Hadrian, we assign too recent a period. The remaining sixteen
are imitations of these, in a stone which is called at Rome _marmo
greco_, and which I suspect to come from Paros, as the grain is very
similar to that of the Parian marble; and in the latter, we may
sometimes see vestiges of the faint, indistinct, gray stripes, which
form the character of this _marmo greco_: it perhaps contains magnesia,
and generally gives a faint unpleasant smell, when rubbed pretty firmly
with the finger. The workmanship of these columns is extremely bad. We
might forgive some imperfections in the capitals and bases, but the
clumsy and irregular formation of the shaft, quite exceeds all previous
calculation; and it appears, that the workmen of this period could
neither make a straight flute, nor an evenly curved surface. The forty
smaller columns are without flutes, and are perhaps even worse in point
of execution than any of the larger ones. All these columns support
arches, and though the philosophy of the art condemns them, the effect
has a degree of lightness and elegance which always pleases, and which
it is perhaps impossible to obtain in any other way. The wall of the
nave, above these arches, is very much too high. Originally, there was a
narrow circular-headed window over each of the openings below, a large
proportion of which has been filled up. These walls have been painted in
distemper, with a sort of architecture, whose divisions do not
correspond with those of the building. In the panels thus formed, there
were historical paintings, but the subjects are nearly obliterated. The
roof is very well constructed, but is not a beautiful object, entirely
exposed as it is to the church. It is a defect inherent to this sort of
plan, that we cannot consistently make use of a vaulted roof, because
the columns below can never seem sufficient to support it. It must
therefore be coved, or flat, but the timberwork may be covered with
panels, and ornamented with mouldings and gilding; here all is rude and
naked. The pavement is composed of fragments of tombstones, and other
slabs of marble, placed without order, occasionally overflowed by the
inundations of the Tiber, and generally bearing the marks of such evils.
The walls of the aisles are merely whitewashed, every thing breathes
poverty and neglect, dirt and decay, yet nobody enters without admiring,
without feeling impressed with the magnificence of the design.
Nevertheless, the proportions are not good, or at least the size of the
columns is not such as to correspond with the dimensions of the church,
and to these columns it certainly owes its principal beauty. They divide
the width without concealing it, and probably thus increase the apparent
magnitude. With a system of square piers and arches, you would see
directly across, just as well as at present, but the diagonal views
would be lost, and these are perhaps the most pleasing, or at least they
are those which most excite the attention; and they offer also a number
of perspectives, instead of confining you to one. The imagination is
gratefully exercised in successfully tracing the arrangement of the
parts. The motion of the spectator produces a continual change of scene,
and this change maintains a continued interest. The transept is divided
longitudinally, by a wall with three large openings, which are adorned
with columns of porphyry, granite, and marble, enriched with ornaments
which do not belong to them. The whole interpolation, for this wall
forms no part of the original structure, must be considered as a
blemish, as it interrupts the breadth of light, which ought to detach
the nave from the altar, and from the dark coloured apsis behind it.
The ancient Basilica of St. Peter was entirely destroyed to make room
for the present majestic edifice; but the plans and elevations have been
handed down to us, and they exhibit a church of the same general
arrangement as that of St. Paul; two ranges of columns on each side of
the nave, and a transept crossing it at the end, in the centre of which
is the apsis, opposite to the central nave. This apsis is a large
semicircular niche, not a continuation of the architecture of the nave;
and in this sense only I use the word, since, however loosely the term
may have been used at different periods, it is now very desirable to
have an appropriate name to a very distinct and characteristic feature
in the earlier ecclesiastical architecture. The columns supported
architraves, as in Santa Maria Maggiore, and not arches; the wall above
them was very high, with small windows; and the timbers of the roof were
left naked. The dimensions were smaller than in St. Paul’s. The
elevation probably exhibits the original distribution of the front of
these basilicas, but not with all the details. A court entirely
surrounded with porticos, precedes the entrance; above this, are two
ranges, each of three circular-headed windows; which windows are filled
up in a manner somewhat similar to those of Orsan Michele at Florence,
and it is not improbable that they may have been among the restorations
of Nicholas V., which would be about the same period. Over these ranges,
in the pediment, was a small rose, or wheel window. This front was
enriched with paintings, or perhaps mosaics; but it has not in these
representations, that large, advancing, enriched cove, which is still
seen at St. Paul’s, and at Santa Maria Maggiore, and which appears at
one period to have been very generally adopted. It is possible also that
this may have been destroyed by Nicholas V.
The Church of St. John Lateran is attributed, like that of St. Paul, to
Constantine, and the epoch assigned to its foundation is also 324. The
original plan was very similar, consisting of a nave resting on four
ranges, each of twelve columns, of which the central division was 72[47]
feet wide and 272 long, and beyond this an open transept 70 feet wide,
with a semicircular apsis 50 feet wide, opposite the opening of the
nave. This perhaps is not the original apsis; at least the mosaics with
which it is adorned, and the circular Gothic corridor behind it, seem to
belong to a later period, and are probably coeval with the court of the
convent behind. This church and the adjoining palace were burnt in 1308,
and the roofs, the _pavimenti sacri preziosi_, and every thing
combustible was destroyed. Clement V., who was then residing at Avignon,
sent considerable sums of money for its restoration; but it was reserved
to Innocent X. to employ Borromini, to transform it into the ugliest,
and worst proportioned church, that ever existed. He built up the
columns into enormous piers, which are almost perforated by monstrous
niches, the receptacle of huge, sprawling statues. There is nothing
deserving of praise in the body of the nave, no taste, no feeling; if
the marble columns were, as is said, too much damaged by the fire to be
trusted to for the support of the building, it would have been better to
have removed them, than to have cramped the plan by accommodating the
piers to their disposition; and as at present they are totally
invisible, the lover of antiquity cannot be gratified by their
preservation.
But if in the nave itself we can find nothing to admire, there is a side
chapel of the Corsini family which is highly beautiful. It was designed
by Alexander Galileo, a Florentine, who adopted the form of a shortened
Greek cross, with a dome in the centre, and ornamented it with rich
marbles, painting and gilding. The porphyry urn, found in the portico of
the Pantheon, forms one of the _depositi_ of this chapel. In the crypt
underneath, is a very admirable _Pietà_ of Bernini. The front of the
church is a design of the same Galileo, and in spite of numerous faults,
it is certainly impressive. These faults, as I often remind you, are not
mere offences against rule, or such as contradict some theory; the rule
may be false, and the theory groundless, but they are errors which are
against the character and expression of the building, and counteract its
magnificence. The northern entrance to the transept is a design of
Domenico Fontana. It consists of a double arcade, each of five arches,
the lower decorated with the Doric, the upper with the Corinthian order;
a handsome structure in itself, but it recalls the often repeated
question, why employ the appearance of two stories without, when there
is only one within; and when this division gives the effect of small
rooms, instead of one spacious hall, and consequently is opposed to
magnificence.
There is a fine court, surrounded with cloisters at St. Paul’s, and
another very similar one attached to this church; openings are formed by
little arches supported on doubled shafts; these shafts are plain, or
twisted, or have spiral flutes, or are ornamented with mosaics, with
which the whole architecture abounds. In its original state, this court
has had considerable grace and beauty, and it is well worthy of
observation, that similarly beautiful effects may be produced by many,
may we not say, by almost every style of architecture; all becomes gold
in the hands of a skilful architect, but the finest parts, and most
exquisite proportions, turn again to dross, in the hands of ignorance
and insensibility. Some large piers have been added here to strengthen
the work, and they very much injure its beauty.
In walking round this cloister, we are shown, 1st, the mouth of a well
of white marble, said to have stood on the well at Samaria, where the
woman talked with Christ. 2nd, A marble base on which the cock stood,
when his crowing awakened the apostle Peter to a sense of his fault.
3rd, The stone (a marble column) split into two on our Saviour’s
crucifixion. 4th, A slab of porphyry, on which the soldiers cast lots
for his garments. 5th, A slab of granite, fixed at the exact measure of
our Saviour’s height. 6th, The ancient marble chair of installation for
the popes. It is impossible not to feel indignant at the monstrous
fictions encouraged, if not approved, by the Romish church. They deprive
us of the power of believing where the circumstances are more probable,
and in so doing, they take from us a very great pleasure. I feel it
sometimes like a personal injury.
Near the church of St. John Lateran, is an edifice called Scala Santa,
of which the principal object is a staircase, said to be composed of the
very steps which our Saviour ascended in the house of Pilate, and which
were afterwards sent by St. Helena to Rome. Indulgences are granted to
those who ascend them properly on their knees, but the wear of the
marble has been so great, that the steps are now covered with wood. On
each side is a flight of stairs for the devotees to descend, and for
those to go up and down, who prefer the more commodious use of the feet.
Here too I saw indulgences declared for those who recite daily, certain
prayers to their Guardian Angel; and a distinction made in matter of
indulgences between those who perform their tasks after confession and
absolution, and those who execute them only with a firm purpose to
confess;[48] these notices are the advertisements, the _affiches_ of
Rome. The general disposition of the front of this building is not bad,
but Fontana never succeeds in details. Close by is the Triclinium of
Pope St. Leo III.; a fragment of the ancient palace, but not in its
original situation.
I must not omit to mention among these objects, the Baptistery of
Constantine. It consists of a small octagonal centre of two orders,
crowned with a lantern of the same form; the surrounding aisle occupies
the height of both orders, which are separated merely by an architrave,
without any floor. The eight lower columns are of porphyry, some of them
very ill worked, and none deserving of much praise; the eight upper are
of white marble. This arrangement is not without beauty, though, take it
altogether, I think no one would copy it. There are some side chapels
which are not of the date of the building, but the vestibule on the side
towards the church is of Constantine’s time; the external doorway to
this is enriched with some very beautiful fragments, which as usual, are
not very well disposed. The capitals in particular, are of a very fine
and peculiar Composite, bearing strong indications of Greek taste and
workmanship; and they are I think, as beautiful as any Composite
capitals in existence, but as different from the usual distribution of
that order, as from the Corinthian. The entablature does not belong to
them. It is hard and dry, but carefully cut, and not much weatherworn.
The style seems something like that of the ancient fragments, in the so
called temple of Concord.
The Church of the Holy Cross was built in order to receive the true
cross, found by Helena, mother of Constantine, in Jerusalem, together
with many other relics, and a quantity of earth from that city; for
which reason it has received the name of _Santa Croce in Gerusalemme_,
as if Jerusalem itself were brought to Rome, and the church erected in
the transported city. It was restored in the eighth century by St.
Gregory II., and again in 903; but it is said to have been rebuilt from
the foundations in 1144. Nevertheless, the plan has been precisely that
of one of Constantine’s basilicas in miniature, except that the diameter
of the apsis is considerably greater than the width of the nave. Its
present state dates no farther back than 1744, when some of the columns
were built up in piers, in order to support the vaulted roof; four on
each side are still exposed, and these are the only parts of the ancient
building now visible. A singular porch is built at the entrance: it is
not good as it stands, but some useful hints may be derived from it.
The Church of Santa Maria in Trastevere, is said to have been the first
dedicated to the Virgin; and the superstition must have begun early, if
it be true that Pope Callistus began this erection in 224; but in fact,
what he built was an hospital, with perhaps a small chapel attached to
it, and not a church. After several alterations, or refabrications,
Adrian I., about 772, added two _navate_, by which I suppose the side
aisles are meant; but till there were side aisles, columns would not be
wanted, and to him therefore, we may attribute the form and disposition
of the church, which is still that of the basilica; but the transept is
narrow. In 1139, Innocent II. is said to have brought it to its present
state, but there is no knowing the precise import of these expressions.
We are told that the present ceiling was designed by Domenichino, but I
know not on what authority. The painting in the middle is undoubtedly
his, but the disposition of the coffers is very intricate, and therefore
bad. The portico was added in 1702. The interest we find in this church
is more from the collection of antique fragments which enter into its
construction, than from any merit of its own. Noble shafts of granite
from different buildings, some of which are adorned with highly
enriched, and very beautiful Ionic capitals, separate the nave from the
side aisles. Others are less ornamented, but perhaps not less beautiful;
there are three varieties of these capitals, besides some bad imitations
of later times; others again are Corinthian, and some Composite. None
perhaps of the very best period of art, but certainly of a time when it
had preserved all its splendour and magnificence, if not all its purity.
The general fault indeed, is that of too much enrichment. Instead of
modillions, fragments of ancient cornices are used, and there are other
morsels of ornamental sculpture. The altar columns are very small. There
are some scraps of friezes and mouldings, of very fine design, though
rather of clumsy execution, in the present doorways of this church.
Where this is the case, it is perhaps frequently the result of the
imitation of more perfect workmanship.
It is rather doubtful whether the Church of Santa Maria di Ara Cœli
stand upon the site of the ancient temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, or
whether that edifice occupied the opposite summit of the Capitol, above
the Tarpeian rock. I have already mentioned to you the two divaricating
flights of steps, which rise nearly from the same point at the foot of
the Capitol; the one leading to the Intermontium, and the other, more
lofty, and consisting of a hundred and twenty-four marble steps, said to
have been formed of the materials of the temple of Quirinus, to the
church of Ara Cœli. The front is of unornamented brickwork, and seems
never to have been finished; but it offers a fragment of Italian Gothic,
perhaps of the date of 1445, when the church and convent were given by
Eugenius the Fourth to the _Reformati di San Giovanni di Capestrano_ of
the Francescan order. From the style of ornament I should more willingly
assign it a later than an earlier period, perhaps 1464, when the church
is stated to have been repaired. The body of the building is supposed to
have been erected about the sixth century, and from the tenth to the
thirteenth, it was called Santa Maria in Campidoglio, but since that,
has been named _Ara Cœli_, from an altar pretended to have been
dedicated on this spot by Augustus. It is divided into a nave and two
aisles, or as the expression is here, into three naves, by twenty-two
marble columns, which have been taken from ancient edifices. They are of
different sizes and materials. Some plain, others fluted; two of them
have semicylindrical ribs on the flutes. The capitals are cases of gilt
stucco, of a detestable Ionic, laid over the old work. The inequality of
the original size was such, that it was impossible to reduce them all to
one precise measure, and consequently some are made larger than others,
but in other respects they are alike. The old workmanship of these
capitals was as different as the columns on which they are placed; nor
are the bases less so, some being Corinthian, some Attic, some of an
unnamed order; one with an enormous projection, the next hardly
relieved, and as the columns are of different lengths, these are placed
on pedestals of different heights, in order to make the total elevation
the same in each. These columns support a range of arches which have no
correspondence with those of the side aisles behind them. It would be
difficult altogether to find a much more ugly church, and the
magnificent flight of steps leads only to a small lateral door at the
side of the tribune, so that every thing is bad. I long excessively to
pull down church and convent, examine all the antiquities thus exposed,
and then to erect a magnificent temple-formed cathedral, the church of
the Roman people; and by clearing away a few rubbishing buildings, I
could make this appear to crown the Corso, and attract the eye from the
first entrance into Rome.
The Church of San Grisogono is another of these basilican churches,
supposed to have been erected at the time of St. Sylvester, but more
certainly restored by Gregory the Third, about 740. This also has three
naves supported on twenty-two columns of oriental granite, not all
alike, yet without any very striking differences. Two of porphyry
support the great arch, and four of alabaster adorn the altar; but all
this is nothing at Rome. The granite columns sustain an entablature, and
above the entablature is a wall, with straight-headed windows, and a
flat, panelled and gilt ceiling, the only sort consistent with the
arrangement below.