The deacon--A lost shirt--Grossa island--The Quarnero--Pola-Istrian
coast--Trieste--Venetian steamer--Venice--Russian artist--Il
Fanatico--Rome--St. Peter’s--High mass--Don Miguel--Congregation--
Roman monarchy--Gregory XVI.--The Vatican hill--Gardens of Nero--The
elevation--Christian triumph.
In one respect the Doctor was right. He assured us that the water-spout
predicted stormy weather; for in a few hours after, the gale did come
on, sure enough, and continued to blow the whole evening from the
south-east. We had only a single sail out--the parroquete, as the
Austrian seamen called it--the second largest sail of the vessel, which
about six o’clock was shivered into mere shreds. At the moment it was
thus shattered, the _Vigilante_ was almost on her side; and, to my
inexperience, it seemed that if the sail had not thus yielded to the
sudden burst of the tempest, she would have been blown over. The damage
was speedily repaired, as all hands were on-board, and at ten o’clock
the storm was suddenly hushed, like a passionate child that has cried
itself to sleep. The night was clear and tranquil.
♦ THE DEACON ♦
It was agreed amongst the sailors that they had never made so long and
so disagreeable a passage before from Corfu to Trieste, though they
had been for some two or three years on that station. They, one and
all, imputed this misfortune to the presence of the deacon, whom they
looked upon as a harbinger of evil, and as such, treated him with very
little ceremony on all occasions. Numberless were the quarrels which
the captain had to compose between this man and the sailors; he talked
to them in his voluble French, which they did not understand, and which
for that reason the more provoked them. He allowed no rudeness to go
unrepelled, and even became engaged more than once in regular combat
for his bed, or his pillow, or his mug, or his shoes, or something or
another of which they attempted to deprive him, in order to pick a
quarrel with his reverence. The slightest encouragement on our part
would have been accepted by them as a sufficient warrant on theirs to
throw him into the sea!
♦ A LOST SHIRT ♦
Whatever was the state of the weather, the deacon was sure to be
employed, when not eating or sleeping, in one or two ways; either he
was writing his journal, which I observed he persevered in with great
industry, or he was washing his only shirt in sea-water, which he then
hung on the cordage of the sails to dry. It so happened that the said
shirt was blanching in the wind during the late gale; and that just at
the moment the parroquete was torn into tatters, the shirt was seen
like a witch riding on the element, filled in a balloon shape, and
borne off to a watery grave. The sailors absolutely cheered it on its
departure, and exclaimed, that as the deacon was thus blown overboard
in effigy, we should have no more bad weather! The sudden lulling
of the tempest satisfied them soon after that their prediction was
verified, and they became more complaisant towards the original, who
was, however, by no means reconciled to the loss he had sustained, and
imputed it to their knavery.
December 10.--In the morning we found ourselves opposite the long and
lofty island of Grossa, whose high cliffs sheltered us in a great
measure from a stiff breeze which blew from the north-east. The
immediate neighbourhood of this island affords what the sailors call
a port with the sail up: that is to say, the waters are too deep for
anchorage, but a vessel may ride up and down, under the protection of
its mountains, when the north and east winds blow too strongly. We had
good reason to deem ourselves fortunate in having arrived within its
protecting influence, as our mainsail was also opening in some of its
seams; and the sea in the distance, towards the Italian coast, was one
vast sheet of foam. We accordingly tacked up and down before the island
the whole day.
♦ GROSSA ISLAND ♦
December 11.--Still before Grossa; the wind blowing violently from the
north; the air excessively cold; the mountains of our friendly island
mantled in snow. We replaced our mainsail and parroquete.
December 12.--We attempted last night and this morning to venture
out to sea, but found the experiment too dangerous to persevere in
it. Accordingly we continued riding up and down as before in our
island-harbour. A merchant brig joined us, which had been thirty-six
days on her voyage from Alexandria, bound for Trieste.
♦ THE QUARNERO ♦
December 13.--It was of the more importance that we should remain
before Grossa while the wind was in the north-east, and blowing
so violently, as we were then near the little Quarnero, as it is
called--that is to say, the “devourer of men” on a small scale; the
larger Quarnero being somewhat higher up the Adriatic. These are
by no means agreeable sounds to a voyager. The _Adriatic_ mariners
have, however, not at all exaggerated the dangers of the two gulfs in
bestowing upon them these appellations, as a year seldom passes without
witnessing eight or ten wrecks of their ill-managed country boats in
the larger Quarnero, and perhaps half the number in the smaller one.
Both these perilous parts of the Adriatic are gulfs, the first of which
extends from the sea towards the Dalmatian coast, formed by a number
of small islands, from around which a very heavy sea is accumulated in
one body, and rolled with tremendous force by a north-eastern wind. We
ventured from our island about ten o’clock last night, and though the
ship rolled a good deal, we passed the mouth of this gulf in two hours
after, and then proceeded quietly under the protection of the islands,
which are thickly strewed along the Croatian coast, until ten o’clock
this morning, when we entered the mouth of the larger Quarnero, an
extensive gulf formed by the north-western coast of Croatia, and the
eastern coast of Istria.
♦ POLA ♦
The wind was blowing due north, almost a gale, so that we must have
encountered the dangers of the scene in their worst form. The waves
that rolled from the interior of the gulf were large, but regular, and
much rounded, and really the most picturesque undulations I ever saw.
Our vessel, steering direct for the promontory of Istria, in order to
turn the Cape, leaned of course with a north wind on her side, her
edge and part of her bulwarks being under water, and the parroquete
itself occasionally kissing the waves. Two or three angry billows
splashed the deck, but by noon we were round the point without any kind
of difficulty. We then made our way rapidly along the Istrian coast,
towards the Gulf of Trieste.
As we passed near Pola, we had a good opportunity of exploring with
our glasses the remains--indeed I should have said the complete
shell--of the ancient amphitheatre, which still records the extension
of Roman luxury and taste to that region. It seemed to be in excellent
preservation. The towns and villages spread along the coast are
prettily situated. The wind being still in the north when we approached
towards Rovigno, we were obliged to anchor in that harbour at four in
the afternoon. The town is of considerable extent; its magnificent
church forms a striking object from the sea, and it possesses
also a monastery, apparently capable of containing three or four
hundred monks. Behind the town the country rises gradually in green
well-cultivated hills, and then farther away into lofty mountains,
whose ridges were covered with snow. Just as we let go the anchor, the
wind, which had blown so violently during four days, almost without
intermission, was succeeded by a dead calm. The evening was beautiful,
but cold--the moon nearly full.
♦ ISTRIAN COAST ♦
December 14.--Proceeded at seven o’clock in the morning with a light
wind along the coast of Istria, the scenery of which strongly resembles
that of the Campagna of Rome--mountains still in the distance crowned
with snow, and declining gradually in undulations towards the sea. The
green declivities were here and there occupied by villages and hamlets,
and dotted by separate cottages and villas. The picturesque effect of
the scenery received not a little improvement from the circumstance
of the snow on the mountain-tops being occasionally streaked by sandy
ridges which had already absorbed it. The sun shone the whole day
in an unclouded sky. At noon we beheld the Alps of Friuli and the
Italian coast round the head of the gulf as far as Venice. We made way,
however, very slowly, by tacking, and anchored for the night at Omago.
♦ TRIESTE ♦
December 15.--Passed the point of Salvori--the morning
splendid--vessels tacking about in the gulf of Trieste in all
directions, of all qualities and sizes--the Alps topped with snow--the
waves just agitated enough for a sea picture--Trieste distant about
fifteen miles--the wind still northerly, and scarcely allowing us
to make any advance towards our destination. At noon, finding it
impossible to combat with our enemy, and the evil stars of the deacon,
we anchored at Pirano.
December 16.--We were engaged nearly seven hours in tacking from
Pirano to Trieste, a distance of twelve miles. At length, however, we
reached the harbour at two o’clock in the afternoon; but although we
were entitled to pratique at once, having exhausted the whole of our
quarantine at sea, the officers, it seems, had gone to dinner, and were
not expected to return to business till to-morrow! So we were obliged
to remain on-board. The port was crowded with shipping. An Austrian
brig of war was preparing to sail for America, having on-board a number
of _Polish exiles_. A steam-boat was also in the harbour, named the
_Sophia_, one of those which ply between Trieste and Venice.
December 17.--We obtained pratique at eight o’clock in the morning,
having been thus detained nearly three weeks on the voyage from Corfu
to Trieste. Before we quitted the _Vigilante_, we had the mortification
to see another of the Austrian packets come in from Corfu in three
days, having had a south wind the whole way. But, on the other hand,
the passengers by the latter vessel had still the whole of their
quarantine to perform, and we did not at all envy them their station in
the lazaretto.
Trieste exhibited every appearance of being a highly prosperous port.
Signs of active and increasing commerce were visible in every part
of the town. Many capital houses and extensive magazines have been
recently erected there, and no doubt can be entertained that when
steam-navigation shall become more familiar to the shores of the
Mediterranean, Trieste will rise to a rank equal to that which once
belonged to Genoa. The Hotel Grande, at which we stopped, is as good
as any thing of the kind to be met with in England. The shops and
the markets were abundantly filled with every description of goods,
and fruits and vegetables, and thronged with customers. The sale of
bread seemed principally confined to one street, where country-women
were sitting down by their baskets on each side; the said baskets,
and the pavement all around them, being occupied by cakes and loaves
of remarkably fine bread of their own baking. We gave the officers of
the _Vigilante_ as good a dinner as the Hotel Grande could furnish,
in return for the uniform attentions which they showed us during our
protracted voyage, and the same evening I proceeded on-board the
_Archduke Charles_ steamer bound for Venice.
♦ VENETIAN STEAMER ♦
This vessel is very handsomely fitted up--indeed much more tastefully
than any I had ever seen at home. The principal cabin is splendid,
and the berths all round remarkably convenient. We had nearly fifty
passengers on-board. We did not quit our moorings until near one
o’clock. As soon as the first light of morning came I was on deck,
and found that the wind, having been right in our stern, a sail had
been hoisted, and the spires and towers of Venice were already visible
above the sea. As we advanced towards it rapidly, it would have been
no poetical phraseology to describe Venice as a city rising from the
waters, for that was literally the appearance which it presented. We
entered the harbour at eight o’clock, having performed the voyage of
seventy-two miles in seven hours.
♦ VENICE ♦
The first views of Venice, however, from the sea, were not so imposing
as I had expected; although I beheld it under the gradually increasing
lights of the rising sun, yet as those lights were coming from behind
me, and revealed only the more prominent edifices in front, leaving
the more distant spires and buildings still hidden in the vapours
of the night, the prospect wanted those characters of perspective
and magnitude which had exhibited Constantinople to so much greater
advantage. But when I entered the grand canal, and the sun disclosed
the long lines of palaces and churches to view--above all, when we
approached St. Mark’s, and began to mingle with the gondolas, and
to feel the singular effect which these gloomy-looking caiques and
numerous other boats produced, moving about in all directions through
numberless canals, where they were soon lost to the eye, and never
present to the ear, all the associations of past renown, of chivalry,
power, crime, and the contrasts of visible bankruptcy and meanness with
the gorgeous opulence and pride by which this queen of the seas, at no
very remote period, was raised to pre-eminence, swept through the mind
in rapid succession, soliciting for Venice those heartfelt impulses of
indulgence and compassion, which render it almost impossible ever after
to remember her desolate appearance without the deepest emotion.
I had had no sleep during the night, as our steamer, however beautiful
in its decorations, was very creaky, and the paddles very noisy. But
I forgot all these things, when, after breakfasting at Daniel’s Hotel
Royal, I posted off towards the Place of St. Mark, passed between
the pillars of granite brought from Greece, beheld the Campanile,
the Corinthian horses!--explored St. Mark’s well-known church, and
the ducal palace, its splendid libraries and picture-galleries; its
chambers, once the scenes of the most despotic oligarchical power
ever known to mankind; its prisons and dungeons--its “bridge of
sighs!”--traversed the porticos of the great square, and stood on the
Rialto!
The next day was devoted to the principal churches, where preparations
were already going on for the celebration of the great festival of the
Nativity. Every thing has gone to decay at Venice except its churches,
and these are unquestionably without rivals, even at Rome, St. Peter’s
and St. John Lateran only excepted, and perhaps one or two others. The
paintings, the frescoes, the marble altars, and columns and pilasters,
the mosaiqued floors, the statues, and monuments by which the numerous
sacred edifices are distinguished at Venice, can only be sufficiently
appreciated by the visitor who has ample time to meditate on all their
excellence. To me, before whom they passed as in a panorama, they are
but a dream--a dream indeed full of luminous recollections, to which I
never look back for a moment without wishing myself at Venice again.
The weather was extremely cold; but as the moon was at its maturity,
I nevertheless felt a singular gratification in rambling through the
streets at night, observing the picturesque effects of the lights and
shadows in which the canals, and gondolas moving on them in silence,
the towers of the churches, the palaces and squares, were exhibited.
The finest shadow, I presume, to be seen in the world, is that of
the Campanile, when thrown by the position of the moon quite to the
extremity of the Place of St. Mark.
♦ RUSSIAN ARTIST ♦
The Academy of Painting necessarily occupied the greater part of a day.
I need hardly have noted my ascent of the Campanile, as the summit of
the tower affords one of the finest prospects in existence, including
the lagoons, the islands and seas round Venice, and the Tyrolese
Alps. My three Venetian suns and moons vanished like a moment, and at
midnight on the 20th (December) I found myself in Mestre on my way to
Rome, where I hoped to arrive in time for the Christmas high mass at
St. Peter’s.
Padua, the Enganean hills, Albano, celebrated for its hot baths, the
Adige, and the Po, Ferrara and Bologna, successively led me on to the
Appenines. At Bologna I fortunately procured a seat in the courier’s
carriage, for the “eternal city.” I met with a most interesting
companion in a Russian by birth, who seemed altogether devoted to the
art of painting, in which he had already acquired some celebrity. He
had a touch of “Il Fanatico” about him upon every subject connected
with his profession, which was to me excessively amusing. He talked of
the people of Italy with rapture. The fact was, he had been recently
exhibiting at Bologna a picture of Herculaneum, which had procured
for him the highest eulogies from all quarters, the Italians knowing
scarcely any limits to praise when once they commence the offers of
their incense. He was overflowing with delight, as it was his first
grand work; he had, as he said to me with much _naïveté_, made a name;
his was one of the great names of the day, that would soon be on every
tongue!
♦ IL FANATICO ♦
His usual residence was at Rome, the only part of the world, he
thought, in which a man of taste could live. The climate was to
him inspiration, a sort of Paradise, in which his genius revelled
incessantly. That of Naples was still more exciting--“Indeed, whenever
I visit Naples,” said he, “I become a fool, so ungovernable is the
sense of happiness, the wild joy, the rush of noble thoughts that fill
my soul!”
I could not keep up at all with this man’s torrent of ideas; and
then turning plaintively upon me, he would lament the uninflammable
materials of which all Englishmen, indeed, all northerns, were
composed! They knew not what genius was; they were a very good sort of
people, very rich and well-informed, and all that; but they were too
_civilized_, too frigid; they were so many marble statues in a shop,
compared with the artist who idolized his profession, and followed it
under the skies and amidst the inexhaustible models of the Vatican,
and the teeming associations with which the “genius of the place” was
pregnant.
♦ ROME ♦
We travelled rapidly by the Pesaro road, and as there was as yet
scarcely any snow or ice on the Appenines, they offered no obstruction
to our speed. Early on the morning of the 25th, we arrived within
view of the Sabine hills. St. Peter’s soon after was within our
horizon; and at half-past seven A.M. our horses galloped through the
Porto del Popolo. I was put down at the Hotel d’Allemagne, under the
recommendation of my Russian friend, and at ten o’clock I was among the
crowds of all tongues and nations, ascending the portico of the noblest
temple ever dedicated to the worship of the true God.
♦ ST. PETER’S ♦
I had never experienced in England any thing like the rigours of
cold which I had felt hitherto in Italy. At Rome they were intense.
Nevertheless, when I entered St. Peter’s, I felt as if I had been
suddenly transferred to a genial climate, from which the surrounding
atmosphere had been altogether excluded. I, of course, imputed this
sudden change to the use of artificial means for heating that immense
edifice, as the number of persons already assembled within its
precincts, though really very considerable, seemed so diminutive as
to be altogether incapable of producing by their presence any effect
upon its temperature. But, to my surprise, I afterwards learned that
there was no such thing as a flue or a pipe of any sort used for the
production of artificial warmth in St. Peter’s. The temperature of its
interior, owing to the vastness of the space comprehended beneath its
matchless dome and roof, never varies at any season of the year. Like
the ocean, it is warm in winter, cold in summer, cool in the spring and
the autumn; but these changes are felt only in relation to the external
atmosphere; the atmosphere of the world within, itself partaking of the
attributes of an element in nature, never knows any alteration.
The first thing that struck my eye with singular surprise when I
found myself under the dome of this great temple, was the apparent
insignificance of the human figures congregating towards the high altar
from all the entrances. We seemed a race of pigmies, of children, of
insects, blackening the marbled floor, but scarcely rising in relief
above it. This feeling was humiliating, but it gradually wore off as
the ceremonies of the day commenced, and the occasion on which we were
assembled raised the mind to other objects than those of personal
interest.
♦ HIGH MASS ♦
The Pope was borne to the great altar in his chair of state, attended
by a host of cardinals and bishops, and the representatives and
many members of all the regular orders of the church. The variety,
and elegance, and splendour of ecclesiastical costumes thus brought
together, produced a most imposing effect. The gorgeous vestments
of his Holiness in his jewelled tiara--the mitres and crosiers, and
mantles of the bishops, the red robes of the cardinals, formed a
remarkable contrast with the poor Carmelite’s white garb of flannel,
and his ruder sandal. The Swiss papal guards, in their antique dress,
covered over on the breast and back by the steel cuirass, with a hat
turned up on one side, and decorated by a ruby drooping plume on the
other, reminded one of the days of the crusades; while the newest
fashions of Paris and London, crowding the tribunes in another quarter,
gave a different charm to the scene, substituting (when the eye turned
downward from that airy dome) real beauty for the visions of tradition.
♦ DON MIGUEL ♦
Amongst the remarkable personages who were present at this great
festival, I observed Don Miguel, the ex-usurper of the throne of
Portugal. He was in a tribune on the left hand of the Papal throne,
and appeared to attract very general attention. He was dressed in blue
uniform, decorated with some orders, obtained I know not how, or where,
or when, as there has been scarcely any period in that prince’s life
when he merited, in my judgment, any such distinctions. He looked,
however, extremely well--indeed, I should have added, even a remarkably
handsome man, had his character not been tainted by his proceedings in
the Peninsula. His _moral_ physiognomy detracted not a little from his
external appearance, and his devotion was somewhat too sanctified to be
sincere.
♦ CONGREGATION ♦
The great aisle of the church was lined by soldiers on each side, who
kept a space open in the middle: behind the skreen the sacred edifice
was densely filled by the lower orders of the people of Rome, and I
must say that I never beheld so large a concourse of people conduct
themselves with such perfect propriety. I wish I could bear a similar
testimony to the demeanour of the better-dressed groups, who had the
privilege of the tribunes which were arranged at each side of the
high altar, as well as of the intervening spaces. The greater number
of these groups consisted, I regret to say, of English families, who
seemed to think that they came to “be seen” and to attract notice to
themselves by their loud remarks and their intrusive manners, appearing
to think that St. Peter’s was a theatre, and the sacred solemnity an
opera, at which they were to display their superior taste in music,
and their progress in the French or Italian language. The thought
that they were attending divine service seemed never to occupy them
for an instant. I must add, at the same time, that other foreigners,
and especially the French, rivalled the English in this most improper
conduct.
The high altar, as every body knows, is immediately under the great
dome. The Pope’s throne was erected at the western extremity of the
temple, and thence to the altar the distance was considerable; but it
scarcely appeared so, as benches extended on each side were occupied by
the cardinals and bishops, and other ecclesiastics, who usually attend
on such occasions. His Holiness commenced the mass at the steps of the
altar, after which he returned to his throne and proceeded with the
Introit, the Kyrie Eleison, and that beautiful expression of human joy
and benevolence, “Gloria in excelsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibus
bonæ voluntatis!” “Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace to men
of good will!”
Never did the concluding words of that angelic address to the Deity
seem to me to come more meetly from the lips of man, than they did
at that moment from the successor of St. Peter.--“Quoniam tu solus
sanctus--Tu solus Dominus--Tu solus altissimus!” “For Thou only art
holy--Thou only art the Lord--Thou only art most high.”
♦ ROMAN MONARCHY ♦
Here was a sovereign of a monarchy the most ancient now flourishing
in Europe,--a monarchy seated at Rome--the mistress of the world in
all that relates to intellectual pre-eminence--a kingdom which has
already existed longer than the Roman empire--appealing for mercy to
the Redeemer;--surrounded by many men of the greatest acquirements,
by the highest dignitaries of the church, whose unaffected humility
and devotion outshone their gorgeous vestments--by large masses of the
undoubted descendants of the ancient Roman people--by individuals from
almost every nation under the sun--appealing to “the only Lord,” the
“Most High God,” in his own name and in that of the great assemblage
thus gathered together beneath a dome worthy of the Majesty of Heaven!
It was, indeed, a spectacle which he who once had seen, never can think
of without exulting that the Meek One who, when born, was received in
a manger--whose very name was spat upon where that unearthly pile is
raised, was the God now hailed by the representatives of all nations,
as the “Solus sanctus Dominus, altissimus Jesus Christus!” Glory indeed
be to that God on high!
♦ GREGORY XVI ♦
In tones that touched the heart, Gregory--the sixteenth high
pontiff of his name--forgetting the external splendours by which
he was encompassed--poured forth these acknowledgments, these
supplications--“Qui tollis peccata mundi, suscipe deprecationem
nostram--Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis!”--“Thou who
taketh away the sins of the world, receive our prayer--Thou who sittest
on the right hand of the Father, _have mercy on us_!”
♦ THE VATICAN HILL ♦
Let it never be forgotten, that the Vatican hill was once the site
of the gardens and circus of Nero--the spot on which that emperor,
to borrow the remarkable words of Tacitus, “inflicted the most
exquisite tortures on those men, who under the _vulgar_ appellation
of christians, were already branded with infamy.” “They derived,”
adds the _philosophic_ historian, “their name and origin from Christ,
who in the reign of Tiberius, had suffered death, by the sentence of
the procurator, Pontius Pilate. For awhile this dire superstition was
checked; but it again burst forth, and not only spread itself over
Judæa, the first seat of this mischievous sect, but was even introduced
into Rome, the common asylum, which receives and protects whatever is
_impure_, whatever is _atrocious_. The confessions of those who were
seized discovered a great multitude of their accomplices, and they
were all _convicted_ for their _hatred of human kind_. They died in
torments, and their torments were embittered by insult and derision.
Some were nailed on crosses; others sewn up in the skins of wild
beasts, and exposed to the fury of dogs; others again, smeared over
with combustible materials, were used as _torches_ to illuminate the
darkness of the night. The _gardens of Nero_ were the scene of this
spectacle, which was accompanied with a horse-race, and honoured with
the presence of the emperor, who mingled with the populace in the dress
and attitude of a charioteer!”
♦ GARDENS OF NERO ♦
What were satin, brocade, cloth of gold, the splendid array of massive
salvers and chalices, the jewelled mitre, and ducal hat, and triple
crown in such a scene, and amidst such associations as these? No; I
envied the supreme pontiff nothing, save the tear that glistened in his
fine intelligent eye, when, remembering where he stood, he poured forth
his gratitude--“Gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam.”--“We
give thee thanks for thy great glory!” The choir took up the anthem,
unaided by the organ--“Laudamus te--benedicimus te--adoramus te”--the
halleluiahs that resound for ever through the abodes of the Divinity!
It was a shout of triumph, filling even that vast concave with its
reverberations.
These passages of the service were followed by the epistle and the
gospel, the credo, and the solemn preparations for the sacrifice. The
host that was offered up was “unspotted;” it was offered to the “living
and true God,” for the transgressions of all who were “present;” for
“all christians of all generations;” “as a most sweet odour for the
salvation of the whole world.” The “sanctifier” was entreated to
bless the “sacrifice” thus “provided for the glory of his name,” and
the angels and archangels, and all the elect were summoned round the
altar, that by their presence and mediation the very atmosphere should
be rendered holy, and the incense sacred, with which the shrine was
perfumed. The pontiff washed his hands “among the innocent,” bowed
down his uncovered head, turning to the immense multitude, called upon
them to pray that the sacrifice might be “acceptable” to the “Father
Almighty,” to “lift up their hearts,” and give thanks to the Lord
God--the God of “Sabbaoth, of whose glory the heavens and the earth
were full.” These appeals were answered by another burst of triumph
from the choir--“Hosanna in excelsis!”
♦ THE ELEVATION ♦
The stillness that followed during the moments while the high priest
consecrated and raised the host for adoration, was awful. The choir was
hushed--no sound throughout that vast prostrate multitude met the ear
save the notes of the higher reeds of the organ, which, floating along
the fretted roof towards the dome above, tended only to unite in one
cherub voice the secret orisons of the whole assembly.
♦ CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH ♦
When the high mass terminated, his holiness was borne in procession
down the great aisle, preceded as before by the clergy, bishops,
cardinals, and the officers of his household. He was crowned in the
tiara. At each side of his elevated chair of state was raised a banner
of snow-white plumes, which are said to be among the most ancient
memorials of the sacred sovereignty. It was fitting that upon the
spot where the blood of christians had flowed, the banners of their
victory should be unfurled on such a day as this; but it was still
more beautiful to observe that he who was thus exalted above the heads
of the people, had no need of a slave to warn him that he was himself
no more than mortal; he dispensed no blessings without striking his
breast silently, preferring to all these outward circumstances of human
pageantry, the self-denial and humility that should ever characterize
the minister of the gospel.