Trajan's Gate--The Appian Way--The English Cemetery--Catacombs of St.
Calixtus--Reflections on the Italian seat of government--Churches--S.
Paolo Fuori le Mura--Santa Maria Maggiore--S. Pietro in Vincoli--"Was
St. Peter ever in Rome?"--Fountains of Rome--Dell' Aqua Felice--Paulina
--Trevi--Rome's famous Aqueducts--Beggars--Priests.
Trajan's Gate, near the Coliseum, is a beautiful piece of architecture.
No Jew can ever be prevailed upon to pass beneath it--at which we can
hardly wonder, for it is like forcing them again to walk under the
"Caudine forks," reminding them all too forcibly of their conquerors,
the destruction of their beloved city, and the bitter humiliation they
have ever since suffered.
After passing the Arch of Trajan, we soon reach the great high-road,
paved with diamond-shaped blocks of lava stone, extending a vast
distance, even beyond Naples. This is the celebrated Via Appia. It takes
its name from Appius Claudius the Censor. How the mind travels back into
centuries long past! How the imagination recalls the glory of ancient
times! Like Milton, we seem to see--
"The conflux issuing forth, or entering in:
Proctors, proconsuls, to their provinces
Hasting, or on return, in robes of state;
Lictors and rods, the ensigns of their power;
Legions and cohorts, turms of horse and wings;
Or embassies from regions far remote,
In various habits, on the Appian road."
The road, apart from itself, has many interests from the numerous relics
and monuments of distant ages all along its way. First, we pass the tomb
of the Scipios, just inside the Gate of St. Sebastian, and the Arch of
Drusus; then the tombs of Augustus and Livia, and many others, mentioned
by St. Paul as belonging to Cæsar's household; then, crossing the
Aqua-taccio, is the old church Domine quo Vadis, or "Whither goest
thou?" where, according to tradition, St. Peter, flying from
persecution, met the Saviour, who caused him to return by asking this
question. Then we come to the tomb of Cæcilia Metella:
"Standing with half its battlements alone,
And with two thousand years of ivy grown,
The garland of eternity."
The "stern round tower" looks little like a woman's grave. Many other
tombs, all possessing more or less interest, we passed, and I must not
forget the English cemetery, where--
"Like an infant's smile, over the dead
A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread."
Here lie the remains of our two young poets, taken from us in the flower
of their manhood, ere genius had fairly ripened, and ere, alas! we had
learned to appreciate them at their true value.
At length we arrived at the Catacombs of St. Calixtus, the most
extensive in Rome. We first passed through the church of St. Sebastian,
and then, following a monk with lighted tapers, were soon underground
among dismal tunnels, with here and there an open tomb, or rather great
shelves cut in the soft brownish rocks (_tufa_). In many places the
sides of these tunnel passages were almost honeycombed with open graves.
There were still in some of these little heaps of decaying bones:
occasionally a name was roughly cut below, executed probably by one of
the little flock of the faithful, and an inscription in Greek, for the
early church was more Greek than Latin. These long corridors extend in
every direction, and, in fact, surround the city on this side. It was a
frequent custom amongst the Christians in Rome to pay visits on Sunday
to the sepulchres of the martyrs, and especially to the Catacombs. When
the sacred roll of martyrs had scarcely been closed, Jerome went the
round with his schoolfellows, and speaks awesomely of the darkness and
dread gloom of these crypts, deep in the earth, dimly lighted by broken
gleams through shafts and holes. They were reached by a narrow entrance,
down a long flight of steps, and through innumerable winding passages,
all carefully concealed from the persecutors. How great a contrast to
the glowing sunshine, and the light breezes, which whispered through the
vine leaves on the hills outside! God's love and man's hatred! Our
thoughts wandered away irresistibly to those times when the Christians
lived here like moles underground, until they died, and were laid by the
loving and devoted hands of their comrades in these dark shelves of the
rock. It is said that there are some seven million bodies buried in
these Catacombs. True enough that all around the Eternal City is one
vast tomb, especially in the direction of the Via Appia, recalling the
prophecy, "He shall fill the places with dead bodies."
I have sometimes thought it a pity that Rome rather than Milan was
selected as the seat of the Italian Government. I say Milan, because I
think neither Florence nor Turin are suitable from a military point of
view, as, if once the heights around were seized by a hostile army, the
city would be lost. Now, Milan, as far as the eye can reach, stands in
the midst of fine open plains, and an enemy could find but little
shelter or commanding position. Rome seems almost polluted by these vast
tombs surrounding her, and will require an immense amount of labour to
render it healthy as a continual residence. Yet no doubt Nature, the
never-resting, ever-working, irresistible evolutionary power, will
assist in the coming changes. For "Nature," says Emerson, "is nascent,
infant. When we are dizzied with the arithmetic of the savant toiling to
compute the length of her line, the return of her curve, we are steadied
by the perception that a great deal is doing; that all seems just begun:
remote aims are in active accomplishment. We can point nowhere to
anything final; but tendency appears on all hands: planet, system,
constellation, total Nature, is growing like a field of maize in July;
is becoming somewhat else; is in rapid metamorphosis.... Says Nature 'I
have not arrived at any end; I grow, I grow.'"
* * * * *
It was a great relief to gain the open air after the long and saddening
exploration of the Catacombs. Some three or four miles on the road
towards Ostia we passed some very old monuments and tombs, and also the
ruins of ancient residences. All around is an uncultivated wilderness, a
few fine but rusty iron gates alone remaining to show their past pomp
and grandeur as suburban residences.
After passing these, we came suddenly on a splendid, newly built
Cathedral. It was indeed surprising to find so large and handsome a
structure far away from any town or village--completely isolated among
the dead! It was the Basilica S. Paolo Fuori le Mura, which was built in
1847 in this uninhabited spot, on the site of a venerable and
interesting church burnt in 1823, which had been founded by Constantine
to mark the grave of St. Paul. The present edifice was rebuilt under the
eye of Pius IX., who was to have been buried here. It is some four
hundred feet long, and is divided into fine aisles and noble pillars of
Baveno marble and granite in single blocks, two of which support an arch
over the altar, dedicated to the sister of Honorius, who completed the
former church, and whose design has been copied in the present one,
which also contains copies of the old mosaics by Giotto's pupils. The
front is likewise a copy, and when completed is to be adorned by a great
mosaic costing 30,000 scudi. The timber roof is richly carved and gilt;
and the frescoes in the nave are ornamented with mosaic heads of all the
popes, chiefly modern, from the government studios, but there are a few
ancient ones among them. It seems as though the whole civilized world
had united to do honour to this noble edifice and the great Apostle in
memory of whom it was erected. The alabaster pillars of the high altar
were presented by the infidel Pacha of Egypt; a detached altar in the
transept was a gift from the heretic Emperor of Russia; the granite
pillars in the nave came from the Emperor of Austria. Among them is the
one celebrated by Wordsworth when it stood on the Simplon, and which
Napoleon intended for the triumphal arch of Milan. Some noble-minded and
generous Jew has bequeathed a large sum for the support of the church;
and the King of Holland gave 50,000 francs for the same purpose--truly a
world's acknowledgment of St. Paul's large-hearted, self-sacrificing,
and noble life. Among other treasures it possesses a painting of the
Conversion of St. Paul by Camuccini, the choir by Carlo Maderno, and a
fine St. Benedict by Ramaldi.
An adjoining cloister, belonging to the Benedictine Convent, dates from
the thirteenth century. It rests on fluted and twisted columns, and
contains in its library a small collection of Christian gravestones
from A.D. 355. One bears the figure of an organ, with the
words, "_Rustreus te vit, and Feci_." The atrium of the old church,
which is the distinguishing mark of a Basilica, existed down to the
seventeenth century, and is now replaced by a modern court. The plan of
the former church was a duplicate of that of old St. Peter's. About
twenty-four of its columns were taken from the tomb of Hadrian; and yet
one other remarkable feature consists in its having been under the
patronage of the English kings till the time of Henry VIII., when that
fickle monarch broke allegiance with Rome altogether, for reasons of his
own. Though this church always seems to have struck travellers with
admiration, as combining in itself the last reminiscence of pagan Rome,
and the earliest mementoes of the Christian world, it had nevertheless
been so far altered by the processes of decay and whitewash, that many
of its most striking peculiarities and beauties had been effaced, even
before its total destruction by fire.
I admired the now existing church extremely, both for its noble
proportions and the beautiful simplicity of its design and
ornamentation. The stained glass windows are one of its distinguishing
marks of beauty. "It is a woful thing, a sad necessity, that any
Christian soul should pass from earth without once seeing an antique
painted window, with the bright Italian sunshine glowing through it.
There is no other such true symbol of the glories of the better world,
where a celestial radiance will be inherent in all things and persons,
and render each continually transparent to the sight of all." The
atrium, with its marble floor of almost spotless beauty, its lofty
columns and noble simplicity of architecture, represented my beau-ideal
of a Christian temple. There was not a single seat or chair--which I
believe is the case with all Basilicas, the congregation standing and
kneeling only--and this fact greatly adds to the apparent vastness of
this noble structure, which forms a beautiful and suitable monument to
the great and good St. Paul.
While on the subject of churches, I may mention two other fine edifices
we visited, both full of interest, though of a diverse nature.
The Church of Santa Maria Maggiore, on the Esquiline Hill, near the
railway station, is one of the four chief Basilicas of Rome, and well
repays a visit. It gives one more the idea of what a Basilica was really
meant to be than any similar edifice in Rome. The richly painted panels,
the interior colonnade with its long harmonious rows of pillars, the
clerestory decorated _en suite_ with small pilasters and panels, and the
beautiful panelled roof, all combine to give the building an air of
lofty and noble magnificence. The high altar is very beautiful, with its
decorations of marble, gilding, and precious stones: it is also
interesting as possessing the crypt in which Pius IX. was interred. The
tombs of Sixtus V. and Pius V. are also here; and in contrast to the S.
Paolo Basilica, which has no side chapels at all, this church possesses
two very fine ones, the Borghese, and the Presigio, which are as rich in
ornamental work as the rest of the building. The latter contains the
supposititious cradle of our Lord; and the former has _in veritas_ the
beautiful tomb of a Borghese princess and high-born Englishwoman (Lady
Geraldine Talbot). The altar of the Virgin is supported by four pillars
of oriental jaspar, agate, and gilded bronze; the image, which is said
to have been the work of St. Luke(!), is richly adorned with precious
stones. The church itself abounds in beautiful pictures, statuary, and
tombs. The chapel of Santa Lucia is also very interesting, possessing
many beautiful tombs, bas-reliefs, etc.
The other church we visited, S. Pietro in Vincoli (St. Peter in Chains),
is considered the most ancient in Rome. It is a noble hall, supported by
twenty columns of Parian marble, and has many fine and interesting
monuments. It is always a debatable point this--St. Peter's presence in
Rome. We have no actual proof that he was ever there, and yet the great
number of places associated with his name and made sacred to his memory
seem to point strongly to such a supposition. Yet it may be only the
religious deceit of the priesthood, who thus couple persons and things
with places, and insert monstrous legends and traditions for their own
mercenary ends, and, considering the immense number of extraordinary
relics, it is very evident that Mr. Shapira has had many predecessors
in the art of manufacturing antiquities.
One of the most pleasing features of Rome is its numerous beautiful
fountains, generally to be found in the piazzas, sometimes surrounded by
fine architectural and sculptural groupings. It seems as if the great
men of every age in this city "have found no better way of immortalizing
their memories than by the shifting, indestructible, ever-new,
ever-changing upgush and downfall of water. They have written their
names in that unstable element, and proved it a more durable record than
brass or marble."
The Fontana dell' Aqua Felice, near the baths of Diocletian, has a fine
statue of Moses striking the rock, by Prospero da Brescia, who is said
to have died of mortification at the ridicule excited by the figure of
the great lawgiver, in which a slight uncouthness is certainly
perceptible. The figures of Aaron and Gideon have been added to the
group by other artists. This fountain was celebrated by Tasso under the
name of the Fontana di Termini. The Fontana Paulina on the summit of the
Janiculum, near Porto S. Pancrazio, is like a triple triumphal arch. The
Fontana di Trevi, situated near the Palazzo Poli, is the most famous in
Rome. Its clear, sparkling water comes through the subterranean
aqueducts from far beyond the city walls. The design of the fountain is
by some sculptor of the Bernini school, and represents Neptune with his
attendant tritons, Health and Abundance. "It is as magnificent a piece
of work as ever human skill contrived. At the foot of the palatial
façade is strewn, with careful art and ordered irregularity, a broad and
broken heap of massive rock, looking as if it might have lain there
since the deluge. Over a central precipice falls the water in a
semicircular cascade, and from a hundred crevices on all sides silvery
jets gush up, and streams spout out of the mouths and nostrils of stone
monsters, and fall in glistening drops; while other rivulets, that have
run wild, come leaping from one rude step to another, over stones that
are mossy, slimy, and green with sedge, because in a century of their
wild play, Nature has adopted the Fountain of Trevi, with all its
elaborate devices, for her own. Finally the water, tumbling, sparkling,
and dashing, with joyous haste and never-ceasing murmur, pours itself
into a great marble-brimmed reservoir, and fills it with a quivering
tide, on which is seen continually a snowy semicircle of momentary foam
from the principal cascade, as well as a multitude of snow points from
smaller jets. The basin occupies the whole breadth of the piazza, whence
flights of steps ascend to its border. A boat might float and make
voyages from one shore to another, in this mimic lake."
The great aqueducts, by which these fountains are supplied, are marvels
of ingenuity and engineering skill, sometimes bringing the pure crystal
stream from lakes and hills thirty and forty miles away. Dyer, the old
eighteenth-century poet, has a graceful mention of them in his "Ruins of
Rome":
"From yon blue hills
Dim in the clouds, the radiant aqueducts
Turn their innumerable arches o'er
The spacious desert, brightening in the sun,
Proud and more proud in their august approach;
High o'er irriguous vales and woods and towns,
Glide the soft whispering waters in the wind,
And more united pour their silver streams
Among the figur'd rocks in murmuring falls,
Musical ever."
These noble aqueducts were the chief source of Rome's health and luxury,
and were in charge of Curators or Prefects, who formed a kind of "water
board." It is a system which might with great advantage be adopted by
our own large cities, which are lamentably wanting in a good and liberal
supply of fresh water--greedy monopolists charging what they choose, and
giving us the precious fluid clean or unclean, when or how they like.
The Government might do much to improve this state of things by
constructing aqueducts after the ancient Roman style.
Another marked feature in Roman life we are _not_ so anxious to see
imitated in our own country, is the abnormal quantity of beggars one
meets everywhere. They are of every sort and description, and swarm
round you wherever you go. Some of them a most pitiful and distressing
sight, only half clothed and seemingly starving. Their number is only
equalled by the legion of priests, who come upon you at every turn, in
all grades, from cardinals to novices. Of course, this is by no means to
be wondered at, Rome being the one great focus and clerical seminary of
the Roman Catholic world. But the contrast between the starving squalid
poor and the legions of well-fed priests is very painful.