on each side, opening into chapels; or in the more magnificent ones,
with side aisles and chapels beyond them. In the centre is a dome
resting on four piers. There is one arch in the length of each tribune,
with the addition of a semicircular end to the choir: sometimes there
are four arches, or five, instead of three, in the nave, and sometimes
one or two smaller ones besides the three larger. The order is always
Corinthian, and the nave a continued vault, springing, not from the top
of the cornice, but from an Attic, or continued pedestal above it. The
windows are generally groined into this vault, but sometimes the
pedestal is cut to make room for them, and they are partly in the vault,
and partly in the upright, which is displeasing. The principal arches
opening into the nave, sometimes reach to the architrave of the
principal order, and sometimes fall considerably short of it. In the
latter case they have a gallery, or a panel, or perhaps something like a
window over them, but the arrangement is much more beautiful when these
arches are carried up to the full height of the opening, and the
key-stone seems to contribute to the support of the entablature. This
connects them with the principal order, with which otherwise, they have
not sufficient union. When the parts are well proportioned, it is
impossible to refuse our tribute of admiration to these churches; and if
indeed it may be said with truth, that there is not one good front to
any church in Rome, yet internally, they surpass, beyond all comparison,
those of every other city. To produce the best effect, the pedestal
above the cornice ought to be unbroken; and perhaps a wide plinth,
without any mouldings, would be better than a pedestal. It is probable
indeed, that the frieze and cornice of the principal order might be
omitted with advantage, but I am only going to theorize so far as to
select the best parts of such as really exist, not to wander in the
realms of imagination without a guide. The vault should be in coffers,
and have the look of a stone vault; not pretend to be a peep into
heaven, which is frequently the idea intended to be conveyed, and a
heaven adorned in general with a very whimsical painted architecture,
such as would not be at all commendable here on earth. The Italian
artists have been very fond, in these paintings, of contradicting the
architecture, and making their lines appear straight on a curved
surface, and representing on the vault of a church a range of upright
piers or columns; such a design is assuredly in bad taste, for the
building would be much worse with such an addition; and in practice it
has this further defect, that it can only look well from one point, and
from every other is more or less distorted. The Jesuit Pozzi was famous
for the skill with which he executed these deceptions, and I have
already mentioned a production of his at Siena, which is admirable, as
far as the mere accomplishing a thing apparently very difficult, can
deserve admiration. The gilding (and say what you please about
simplicity, the advantage of gilding is frequently very great) ought to
be principally in the vault. The Attic should have little or none; it
should appear again in the cornice, in the capitals of the pilasters,
and in the key-stone of the arches. The impost of the arch should
receive a little of it. Thus being gradually lost as it comes downward,
it will produce the effect of richness without glare, and without
separating the building into distinct and unconnected parts, a fault I
have already noticed to you in St. Peter’s. In the disposition of the
gilding two faults are always to be avoided, this separation into parts,
and the too equal and regular distribution on all the similar members of
the architecture. It is surprising how much gilding may be employed
without any effect of richness, by this too regular and equal
distribution; and I shall mention to you by and by some churches in
Rome, where there is a considerable portion of gilding, but without any
effect; a failure arising entirely from this cause.
In stating how a building of this sort should be managed, the greatest
difficulty is in the manner of introducing the light. Three different
methods offer themselves to our choice; the first is to light the nave
by one large window at the end. There would then also be a large window
at each end of the transept, and the choir would be comparatively dark;
but the altar, if brought forward in front of it, and receiving the
light from both transept windows, and from the dome, which would remain
with lights round the drum, as at present, would occupy, as it ought to
do, by far the most conspicuous and best illuminated point in the
church. If the altar must be kept back towards the end of the choir,
there should also be windows in the choir, not visible from the entrance
of the building, in order to throw a strong light upon it, and give it
its proper consequence. In either case I am persuaded the effect
internally would be most beautiful, but I should be puzzled to make an
equally beautiful outside. In a Greek cross, the whole might be lighted
from the central dome, but this would not do in a Latin one. A second
plan would be to keep the side aisles very lofty by omitting the frieze,
cornice, and pedestal, of the order, and springing the vault immediately
from the architrave, and lighting the edifice entirely from the aisles.
A degree of solemn gloom would result from the comparative darkness of
the upper part, which perhaps would not be inconsistent with a religious
edifice. The third plan is to introduce semicircular windows over the
order, and to groin them into the vault. The perfect continuity of the
design is in some degree injured by this arrangement, yet it cannot be
considered as objectionable, if care be taken that these windows do not
interrupt the leading lines of the architecture. If the whole curve be
divided into five panels, and these windows occupy only the lower, the
light would be amply sufficient.
Having thus endeavoured to give you some idea of the general
distribution of the parts in the churches of Rome, I shall proceed to
particularize a few of the finest examples, beginning with the Church of
Sant Andrea della Valle, which I think on the whole deserves the first
place. Here the nave has three arches on each side, besides a smaller
division towards the dome. This alteration of design is a defect. The
piers of the dome ought to be decidedly distinguished from the rest,
both by their larger size, and by some contraction of the width of the
opening; but there is no reason to make the adjoining division smaller,
or of a different character, for it will always connect itself to the
eye with the nave, and not with the dome; and consequently communicate
no character of strength and firmness. Perhaps the architect (Olivieri)
considered these smaller openings, with the piers on each side of them,
as forming each in fact, one great pier; but if such was his idea, he
has entirely counteracted its effect by making openings in the mass. The
order is bold and magnificent; the vault is nobly divided into three
large panels, but unfortunately, as the ornaments have never been
executed, the present appearance is rather bald and unfinished. This
vaulting springs upon detached pedestals, which would be better if
continued, and the windows occupy part of the space between them, and
also part of the first division of the vault. The transepts have each
two small divisions without side aisles, the choir has one small arch on
each side, and beyond that a semicircle. The proportions altogether are
very fine, and the effect truly sublime. Yet it is a sublime of a very
different character from that of a Gothic cathedral, and I think seldom
fully understood by the English. We expect from habitual associations, a
different sort of impression, while the Italians, from similar causes,
do not readily see or feel the merits of the Gothic. All however will
admire the beauty of Domenichino’s exquisite frescos, which I will not
describe to you, for I could not do them justice.
There is a chapel in this church said to be built after designs left by
M. A. Buonarotti, and whose ornaments are copies of some of his most
celebrated works. It is oblong on the plan, and covered with a cupola,
which this shape of the building renders slightly elliptical. This
always appears defective; it seems too much like a circle badly drawn.
Four columns on each of the three sides, make a sort of front to each,
with a large semicircular window above one of them. The architecture is
much broken, which though not to be admired anywhere, is much more
tolerable in tombs than in large edifices. Before the basement of these
fronts are sarcophagi of a bad shape but of a rich material, being of
the black and gold marble. The columns are of _lumachelli_; the beauty
of the design consists in the harmony of all the parts, both as to form
and colour (except some ridiculous new moons and flames on the
pendentives).
The Church of St. Ignatius, like so many other churches in Rome, and
other parts of Italy, is the result of private magnificence, having been
erected at the expense of Cardinal Ludovico Ludovisi, who left a sum of
200,000 crowns for its completion. Domenichino made two designs for this
edifice, of which Father Grassi, a Jesuit, compounded the one which was
executed. Domenichino was so much offended at this, that he refused to
have any thing more to do with the building. How much the defects we now
see in it are attributable to this procedure, it is impossible to
decide. The circumstances which displease us are, that the side arches
spring from little columns, and that whitewash is mixed with the rich
marbles. The vault is smooth, and painted by Pozzi, with an ingenious
perspective of bad architecture, and angels hanging about it. The cupola
has not been executed. The general proportions are good, but the order
is by no means equal to that of the Valle; still it is a noble church. I
sometimes think that a considerably greater proportion of height to the
breadth would be desirable in this arrangement, which additional height
ought to be given almost exclusively to the order. This notion may have
arisen from the habit of admiring Gothic churches. Yet in the narrow
courts of their hypæthral temples, the Greeks seem to have been aware of
the great effect produced by a height very considerable in proportion to
the breadth.
The Church of the Jesuits was built from a design of Vignola, and is
worthy of his talents. Here the columns are doubled on the piers of the
nave, and as in Sant Andrea there are three arches on each side, and
then next to the dome, one smaller division without an arch. This
interruption of the design disappoints the eye, and it is more
objectionable here than in the former instance, because the piers of the
centre are of themselves considerably larger than the others, and it is
therefore impossible to consider this division for a moment, as a large
perforated pier. The side arches do not occupy the height of the order,
but leave space for a gallery between them and the architrave. Above the
order is a continued but broken pedestal on a high plinth, and a noble,
richly ornamented rib; the whole width of the pier seems to form the
solid of the vaulting. It is a pity that this fine feature should be
interrupted to make room for the painting. The upper windows are badly
ornamented, but they are rich, and in this part mere richness is of
great value. Wherever the eye fixes, the architecture ought to be pure
and correct, but the vaulting is seldom examined in detail, or at least
the beauty of detail is there of less importance to the general
impression produced by the building, than in parts more subject to
inspection; and on the other hand, it is that part where richness of
ornament produces the greatest effect in communicating to the building
the appearance of magnificence. The chapels of the transept are very
splendidly decorated, and on the whole, it is a most noble and
magnificent church, and one of those which best satisfies the eye. It
neither wants height, nor length, nor breadth; all is as it should be,
and the defects are only in the distribution of the smaller parts. The
width of the nave between the pilasters in this church, is about 55
feet, in Sant Ignazio, 57; in Sant Andrea, 51. Compare these with our
St. Paul’s, which is 41, and you will easily understand that the Roman
buildings, wider and shorter, and more richly decorated, must possess a
character quite different from any thing to be seen in England. The
Church of the Santi Apostoli is a fine edifice of this sort, with some
of the chapels of rich and beautiful marbles well disposed, and in other
respects highly decorated, and others of striped stucco; a contrast not
at all pleasing. The parts in elevation, on the sides of the nave, are
well proportioned, but the building does not end well, and is perhaps
rather too short; the vaulting springs from a pedestal above the
cornice. The lines of the architrave are interrupted to make room for an
enormous picture, which represents not the fallen, but the falling
angels; and in order to figure them in a more lively manner, the artist
has made use of projecting portions of surface brought over the frame of
the picture, on which he has painted parts of the figures, as if they
were then actually tumbling into the church. It is rather a misfortune,
that so bad an idea should be so well executed.
To carry you in detail through all the churches in Rome, would only
offer a repetition of the same criticisms, without equal beauties to
redeem their defects. Passing over therefore, a number of others of
somewhat similar arrangement, and which all follow the disposition of
the Latin cross, there are some very beautiful ones, in which that of
the Greek cross is observed. The best of these, and the master-piece of
Rainaldi, is the church of St. Agnes in the Piazza Navona; and a very
delightful little building it is. The four equal arms are all very
shallow, occupying four sides of an octagon, and it is an admirable
lesson on the advantage of shallow recesses; although the little niches
introduced at the extremities of the transept have a bad effect. Such a
form might be very well lighted from the dome alone; but in the present
instance this is too high, both for internal and external effect. The
front is by Borromini, and though not free from his extravagancies, and
his idly crooked lines, is the finest thing he has done. He had always
some feeling among his wildest dreams, and it is this that at one time
made him popular, and his example dangerous; had he not, he would
neither have been admired nor imitated. Even in the church of San Carlo
alle quattro fontane, where he seems to have given full reins to his
imagination, we feel that there is something to be admired, though it is
difficult to point out where it is; for on the inside as well as on the
out, he has exerted himself to disappoint in every respect, both the eye
and the judgment. His followers lost his beauties and preserved only his
absurdities, thinking apparently, that the grace which still appeared,
was owing to deformity, instead of, as was actually the case, feebly
appearing through it.
Bernini has built the Church of Sant Andrea del Noviziato, on the
Quirinal, in an elliptical form, to which, I suppose, he was determined
by the shape of the ground; and in interrupting the lines of the
entablature for the great altar, and making that opening, and that of
the doorway, greater than the rest, he was probably guided by the
prejudices of his employers. He has shown great judgment in avoiding
anything of a transept, which must probably have given rise to another
interruption, by making four chapels on each side, instead of an uneven
number. The oval dome has something of a crooked appearance, and the
details are not good, yet in spite of its defects, it is internally a
beautiful little building. Of the outside, I will say nothing, for there
is nothing good to be said.
The front of the Church of Santa Maria di Consolazione, is perhaps among
the most tolerable of those in Rome, where any considerable enrichment
has been attempted; but there are three little churches or chapels in
the same neighbourhood, where probably the builders were not rich enough
to be absurd. The composition of each presents nearly a square face,
ornamented with four Doric pilasters, and crowned with a pediment. The
parts are differently disposed in each, but all have a pleasing
simplicity of character.
[Illustration: Illustrations of churches]
If I mention to you Santa Maria in Campitelli, it is rather because it
is praised by others, than in compliance with my own taste. An effect of
splendour is obtained by a multiplication of parts, without much
dependence on each other. It puzzles rather than pleases.
LETTER XXVIII.
ROME.
_Rome, 7th April, 1817._
WE have had some rain here lately, and a good deal of snow upon the
mountains; for the Apennine summits present a much greater mass of white
than they did at the end of January. In the lower country the winter
seems to be gone. The Anemones (_Anemone hortensis_) have been very
plentiful and beautiful; they are now almost over, and the orchideæ are
beginning to show their flowers. The weather is delightful, the sun,
though bright, is not oppressive, and the night wind is no longer cold.
The woods of Monte Mario are perfumed with rosemary in full flower;
vegetation is everywhere vigorous and beautiful, and all nature feels
the genial influence of the season. A first of April at Rome is all you
can imagine of a May day in England. But enough of nature; I am about to
give an account of art; of pomps, and processions, and ceremonies, where
all is artificial. They began the 30th of March, which was Palm Sunday,
and I went to the Sistine chapel to see the palm branches distributed.
These palm branches look like reeds with the leaves still upon them, all
of which, except two or three at the top, are plaited up, so that they
are not very unlike slender rods covered with yellow ribbon; they are
said however, to be real palm tree leaves. One of these is given to each
of the cardinals, together with a branch of olive. When arrived at the
Vatican, the doors of the great hall (the Sala regia) were shut, and a
considerable number of people were waiting at the head of the stairs. We
understood that no general admission would be given till the procession
had passed, _i. e._ the pope and cardinals had entered the chapel. After
a little time, the doors were thrown open and we entered the hall, but a
circuit of soldiers placed about the door prohibited our immediate
entrance into the Sistine Chapel. One by one we slipt through, the
intention apparently not being to prevent us entirely from entering, but
merely, by retarding our motions, to avoid bustle and confusion. It was
however some time before I could work myself up into a good position,
and that moment the pope, and all the cardinals were seated. The latter
held in their hands the palm branches, and at the feet of each an
attendant was seated who held an olive branch. A priest at the altar was
saying mass, but the pope seemed quite the object of attention, and
almost of adoration. We might almost at times fancy the music repeating,
“We worship thee O Lord, the Pope,” so well did the action correspond
with such an expression. The ceremonies were not much varied; they
consisted principally in alternately getting up and sitting down, while
at each change of position the attendants arranged the robes of their
superiors. Two of these waited on the pope, and disposed the folds of
his garments very carefully every time he moved. Sometimes the cardinals
advanced from their seats, and passing through the row of attendants,
knelt down to the pope and the altar, laying their palm branches on the
ground. During part of the service, the pope wore a mitre, which was put
on, and taken off, with great ceremony. On one occasion he rose from his
seat, and walked to a cushion placed in front of the high altar, upon a
sort of stool. On this he knelt down, and his attendants took off the
mitre. The music suddenly ceased, and there was a dead silence, all the
cardinals and attendants being at the same time on their knees. The
effect of this silent prayer is very impressive. It was a pity the
spectators could not kneel too, but it was impossible for want of room.
The two attendants of his holiness meanwhile spread his robes carefully
over the elbows of the cushion, and disposed his train symmetrically,
turning out on each side a quantity of the white satin lining; a sort of
parade very injurious to the solemnity of the scene, as it drew down the
attention from every sublime sentiment, to a trifling, and even
contemptible object. The service in general did not appear very
impressive, and there was hardly any music except a monotonous
recitative.
On Monday and Tuesday nothing was done. On Wednesday afternoon there was
again service in the Sistine chapel. It began about five o’clock, by
candle light, for even at noon day candles are used; amongst these was a
row of fifteen lights, intended to represent the twelve apostles, and
the three Mary’s, and these were extinguished or expired at irregular
intervals, to show that they did not all abandon our Saviour at once.
After fourteen of these were out, the remaining one, which we were told
was to represent the Virgin Mary, was taken down, and all the other
lights in the room extinguished, leaving only the faint remains of day
(it was then near seven o’clock) and in this state we heard a fine piece
of music, the effect of which was perhaps enhanced by the gloom.
On Thursday morning I was at the Vatican about nine o’clock, but was
refused admittance because I wore trowsers; I therefore returned to
change my dress, among a great number of my countrymen, who were in the
same predicament; but I returned before mass had begun in the Sistine
chapel. I did not however attempt to enter, as it would only have been a
repetition of what I had seen before. The Paoline chapel was very
splendidly illuminated, and after a short time the consecrated wafer was
carried in procession, and laid in what is called a sepulchre in that
chapel, where a painted body is exposed, intended to represent that of
Christ.