Papal Rome--Narrow streets--St. Angelo--Benvenuto Cellini--St. Peter's
--Pietà Chapel--The Dead Christ--Tomb of the Stuarts--Anniversary of St.
Peter's--Grand ceremonial--Cardinal Howard--The Vatican--Pictures--
Pauline and Sistine Chapels--"The Last Judgment"--Pinacoteca--Raphael's
"Transfiguration"--The Madonna--Christian Martyrs--Sculptures--Tapestries
--Leo XIII.--Italian Priesthood--St. John Lateran--Marvellous legends and
relics--Native irreverence to sacred edifices.
"The Papal City," says Howels, "contrives at the beginning to hide the
Imperial City from your thoughts, as it hides it in such a great degree
from your eye." I had often asked our guide what had become of this or
that column or statue of ancient Rome, and he replied that the popes,
jealous of the greatness of _Pagan_ Rome, and the interest excited in
the minds of the present generations, Catholic and Protestant, removed
them as quietly as possible after their disinterment, lest the world
should say that the glory and grandeur of the Pagans of old exceeded
that of the Papacy.
We drove through a labyrinth of narrow, dirty, crowded streets, crossing
the Tiber by the fine bridge of St. Angelo. The picturesque castle of
this name was a very important fortress in the Middle Ages. It was
commenced by Hadrian, and afterwards finished as a family mausoleum by
Antoninus Pius, and must always possess a romantic interest from the
part it played in the life of that most whimsical and audacious of
autobiographers, Benvenuto Cellini. The account he gives of his escape
from its dungeons is quite Dumasesque in its thrilling details; and this
is not the only famous escape in the records of the fortress, Pope Paul
III., who was confined there in his youth, having succeeded in making a
secret exit.
Turning to the left through one of the narrow streets, we find ourselves
suddenly in a very fine piazza, before the largest Christian temple in
the world--colossal St Peter's. It stands proudly and grandly on the
Vatican Hill, on the site of the earliest Christian church, built by
Constantine the Great in the fourth century.
In the centre of the great piazza, which slopes upwards, is an ancient
Egyptian obelisk brought from the circus of Nero, and surrounded by
points of the compass let into the pavement. This is flanked by two
immense fountains, from which the water rises in a sparkling column to
the height of seventy feet. They are supplied by an aqueduct from Lake
Bramano, some seventeen miles distant.
St. Peter's is approached from the piazza, by a long-graduated series of
great steps. It is from the top of these that the Pope gives his
blessing at Easter to the multitude in the immense court below. The
piazza is environed by more than a thousand shops, which impede the
view, considerably foreshorten and hide the great dome of St. Peter's,
and detract from its imposing grandeur; causing the façade to appear of
an immense and disproportionate height. The whole stupendous
structure--the cross of which, lifting itself literally to the blue
skies, can be seen over the hills from the sea--occupied 116 years in
building, and was continued during the reigns of eighteen popes. Leo X.
was one of these, and his scheme of raising money for the work by the
sale of indulgences, went far to produce the Reformation. Truly God's
ways are wonderful, the almost trifling acts of a single person often
bringing about the most mighty results and changes in the world!
"St. Peter's is less like a church than a collection of large churches
enclosed under one gigantic roof.... One is lost in it. It is a city of
columns, sculptures, and mosaics." So says the clever, versatile Willis,
in his "Pencillings by the Way," and it would certainly take months to
examine minutely all that is worthy of attention in this vast pile. Our
time, unfortunately, was limited, and we were only able to notice some
of the more celebrated and striking features. Of the plan of the
building, and its architecture, external and internal, I will say
nothing, for what can now be said that has not been said before, and far
better than I could say it? Almost every one nowadays has formed his own
idea of what this great church is like--of its exceeding vastness and
extent, the immensity of its over-arching dome, and its gorgeous and
profuse decorations. Yet when they at length come to visit this
preconceived and idealized vision, perhaps their feeling is almost one
of vague disappointment. Like Hilda in the "Marble Faun," we at first
prefer our own dream-edifice to the solid reality. It is, in fact, so
immense that you utterly fail to take it in all at once; your gaze is
arrested by ponderous columns and you must be content to see it in
fragments. You yourself seem so lost in its immensity, that you find it
impossible to take in its immeasurable vastness from any single
standpoint, the mind utterly refusing to grasp it; but on a second and
third visit, you gradually obtain a more comprehensive idea of its
proportions.
"Thy mind,
Expanded by the genius of the spot,
Has grown colossal....
"Thou movest, but increasing with the advance,
Like climbing some great Alp, which still doth rise,
Deceived by its gigantic elegance;
Vastness which grows, but grows to harmonize,
All musical in its immensities:
Rich marbles, richer painting, shrines where flame
The lamps of gold, and haughty dome which vies
In air with earth's chief structures, though the frame
Sits on the firm-set ground--and this the clouds must claim.
"Thou seest not all; but piecemeal thou must break,
To separate contemplation, the great whole:
And as the ocean many bays will make,
That ask the eye--so here condense the soul
To more immediate objects, and control
Thy thoughts until thy mind hath got by heart
Its eloquent proportions, and unroll
In mighty graduations, part by part,
The glory, which at once upon thee did not dart.
"Not by its fault, but thine: our outward sense
Is but of gradual grasp--and as it is
That what we have of feeling most intense
Outstrips our faint expression; even so this
Outshining and o'erwhelming edifice
Fools our fond gaze, and, greatest of the great,
Defies at first our nature's littleness,
Till, growing with its growth, we thus dilate
Our spirits to the size of that they contemplate."
Mendelssohn says, "You strive to distinguish the ceiling as little as
the canopy of heaven: you lose your way in St. Peter's; you take a walk
in it, and ramble till you are quite tired. When Divine Service is
performed and chanted there, you are not aware of it till you are quite
close.... When the music commences, the sounds do not reach you for a
long time, but echo and float in the vast space so that the most
singular and vague harmonies are borne toward you."
The interior space is the more increased by the fact of there being no
seats of any kind, and seems so immense that things of colossal size
appear of only ordinary proportions. Thus, two apparently small cherubs,
holding a vessel of holy water, are in reality six feet high; and other
figures, almost insignificant in the distance, are really wonderfully
large. The pen in the hand of St. Mark on the dome is five feet long.
There are about 134 popes buried here, and when looking at their grand
and beautiful monuments, extending up the left aisle, one cannot but
remember that these were the men whose power was at times almost
unlimited, who controlled the destinies of the world, and made emperors
tremble; and the mind travels back into the dark ages of the past. But
in these enlightened times, when the souls of men have shaken off the
fetters of mediæval bondage, it is difficult to understand how our
ancestors could have been so enslaved--worshipping the reigning pope,
though even a Borgia, as a very God upon earth. Near the last column of
the aisle is a colossal bronze statue of St. Peter, seated on a huge
chair or throne. We noticed that every one (Roman Catholic) bowed before
the image, and afterwards advanced and kissed one of the feet, the big
toe of which is quite worn away with the friction of countless myriads
of devout lips, and the general wiping of the sacred digit by each
individual before venturing to kiss it. It would seem, alas! that the
present generation is not so very far removed from the superstitions and
absurdities of the past, after all!
In the Pietà Chapel is one of the most beautiful pieces of sculpture I
have ever seen; it is Michael Angelo's _Dead Christ_. The Saviour's head
rests on the knee of the Virgin Mother, whose face is full of the
deepest pathos of holy love and intense sorrow. Truly a God-inspired
work.
"Art is the gift of God, and must be used
Unto His glory. That in art is highest
Which aims at this."
How appropriate these words are, placed in the mouth of the great
Buonaroti, we could hardly imagine till we had seen this sublime work
of art.
We felt greatly interested, in common with all our countrymen, in the
tomb which contains the ashes of the last of the Stuarts. Canova's
winged genii stand with reversed torches on either side of the door,
which is now closed for ever.
I must confess that I was neither pleased nor edified by the services
conducted in the gorgeous side chapels; they certainly seemed but a
mechanical form of prayer, little less than sacrilegious; the bishops,
priests, and choir hastening to get through the formula--those who were
not yawning taking snuff. Indeed, there was a dreadful absence of real
Christian humility and reverence. One day we arrived in time to witness
a High Church ceremonial--it was the anniversary of St. Peter. Cardinal
Howard officiated instead of the Pope, who had one of his frequent fits
of the sulks towards Italy. He was supported by all the great
dignitaries and potentates of the Romish Church, "a grotesque company of
old womanish old men in gaudy gowns." The cardinal is a robust
Englishman of the Friar Tuck style--the very antithesis to the
spiritual, thoughtful, Newman type. He is, however, zealous in his
duties, and much liked by the people. The principal part of the ceremony
seemed to consist in the constant changing of the cardinal's gorgeous
robes, accompanied by procession and prayer; and finally, when he left,
the people, more especially the women, rushed to kiss his hand. In spite
of its incongruity in our eyes, it was rather a touching sight, and the
cardinal seemed to realize almost painfully, as we did, the adoration of
the poorer of his flock.
The music was instrumental and vocal, the former composed entirely of
stringed instruments, and we were not at all inspired by it. It was not
to be compared to the fine choirs of St Paul's, the Temple, or,
Westminster Abbey; and for sacred music I think there is nothing like
the grand, melodious swell of the organ. We found none of the grand
Masses or other ceremonies of the Roman Church at St. Peter's, which
could compare for a moment in reverential feeling with the solemn
impressiveness of our own large churches during our beautiful and
eloquent service, which is so full of deep and earnest feeling, and yet
withal so simple that all can understand; and what more sublime than to
hear a vast congregation singing, as with a single voice, one of our
fine old hymns, such as the imperishable and soul-inspiring "Rock of
Ages"? Yet even here I think there is sometimes too much of a secular
character now introduced into church music.
The more one sees of St. Peter's the less easy it is to realize that so
magnificent and wonderful an edifice has been constructed by man.
Compare the stupendous structure with the puny attempts of the present
day. Architecture seems almost a lost art. I think this is owing to
want of patience; the lack of doing all things thoroughly and well; the
preference for mere show rather than durability and beauty; and the
selfish gratification of our own generation rather than a patriotic
pride and thought for future ages. If the nineteenth century has made
great advances in the industries, science, and thought, it has also
introduced a taste for meretricious imitation in every department of
manufacture and art. This is essentially the century for contracts.
Everything is done by contract, and not only is the matter of cost, but
also that of time, made a strong point in the bargain. When St. Peter's
was built, estimates of cost were not thought of, and no one ever
dreamed of fixing a date for completion of so vast a work.
To gain admission to the galleries of paintings and sculpture in the
Vatican, it is necessary to procure tickets. These may always be
obtained of your hotel proprietor, while a pass to the Pantheon and to
all exceptional ceremonies can generally be got by an early application
to your Banker.
Next to the Vatican, the Villa Borghese, near the Piazza del Popolo, and
the gardens of the Pincian Hill, has the most important
picture-galleries in Rome. The Palazzo Doria, in the Corso, is also one
of the finest in the city. There are three large fronts enclosing a
spacious court, and this is surrounded by a piazza. There is a very
handsome staircase, leading to the splendid series of galleries full of
priceless works by the great masters--Correggio, Raphael, Titian, and
others. Unfortunately, we were obliged to hurry through, without seeing
half of them properly.
It is necessary to provide yourself with a quantity of small copper
coins, for every Usher who shows you anything, expects some payment in
return, and they are quite satisfied with a few centissima.
The Vatican contains the richest, rarest, and most varied collection of
art treasures in the world. This is not to be wondered at when we
remember that it has been the work of more than a hundred popes, many of
them princely patrons of art and genius, some very unscrupulous, and
each in his day exercising almost uncontrolled power over nations,
emperors, and kings, and commanding the moral, physical, and material
resources of the civilized world. Here there is gathered, as in an
immense casket, the chiefest of the art treasures of all ages, the works
of antiquity, and the principal productions of the greatest men who have
lived. The dimensions of the Vatican exceed those of Tuileries and
Louvre put together. The very list of museums, galleries, and cabinets
is bewildering, and I should think a thorough study of the whole would
well-nigh occupy a lifetime; it is really daring presumption to rush
through in a day or two, and then be content to say you have "done"
these things, as so many tourists do.
Through these interesting rooms we wandered and wondered, longing for a
fuller comprehension of their contents, yet unable to linger, and almost
sated with the numerous beautiful objects demanding our attention on
every side. Sight-seeing of this kind is the most fatiguing pastime both
to body and brain that any one can indulge in; it is only possible to
note the more important objects. We were much struck by the Scala Regia,
a fine staircase by Bernini, in the centre of which is a gigantic
equestrian statue of Constantine, so placed that a fine ray of light
falls on it from above. This probably is typical of his conversion to
Christianity.
We visited the Pauline and Sistine Chapels, the latter of which contains
Michael Angelo's awful and in some sense revolting picture of the _Last
Judgment_; and many marvellous frescoes from scripture history by the
same great master. Wonderful and magnificent as these pictures are in an
artistic sense, I never see depicted these imaginary "heavens and hells"
without thinking--
"What is the heaven our God bestows?
No prophet yet, nor angel knows;
Was never yet created eye
Could see across eternity."
While doing this great work, Michael Angelo was only too evidently under
the bondage of the Papacy; for in this picture the Virgin Saint usurps
the place of our all-sufficing, merciful, and loving Saviour. All must
be saved (or lost?) only through Popes and Saints; no peace, even for
the dead, without money payment! It is in the Sistine Chapel that the
cardinals meet in conclave on the decease of a pope, to elect his
successor.
Still we wandered on through miles of pictures and sculpture, wondering
in amazement how these great men could have performed so much in a
single lifetime, remembering how little--how very little, we ourselves
accomplish, one day like another repeating, alas! the same sad story of
"Nothing done."
Perhaps the culminating centre of these galleries is the Pinacoteca,
which contains the choicest works of all. Chiefest among them is
Raphael's sublime and wonderful painting of _The Transfiguration_. "A
calm, benignant beauty shines over all this picture, and goes directly
to the heart. It seems almost to call you by name. The sweet and sublime
face of Jesus is beyond praise, yet how it disappoints all florid
expectations! This familiar, simple, home-speaking countenance is as if
one should meet a friend. The knowledge of picture-dealers has its
value, but listen not to their criticisms when your heart is touched by
genius. It was not painted for them; it was painted for you--for such as
had eyes capable of being touched by simplicity and lofty emotions."
Transcendentalists do not often indulge in remarks on material objects,
but when Emerson speaks about a picture it is worth quoting.
Only second to the _Transfiguration_ is Raphael's lovely _Madonna_, so
full of true womanly loveliness and purity of soul--a beauty that
expands the heart, and makes one feel purer and happier for having gazed
thereon. The inspired aim of these great painters seems to have been to
show us the marvellous love of God, and the exceeding beauty of his
creation. Many of the pictures represent painful scenes of the
sufferings of the early Christian martyrs. While looking at these
dreadful conceptions, so truthfully portrayed, and also when visiting
the Mamertine Prison, the Tarpeian Rock, and the Catacombs, I could not
but feel ashamed at the miserable little sacrifices we present-day
Christians are content to make for our religion. We can never be
sufficiently thankful that we are no longer required to prove our faith
in such a terrible and utterly self-denying way.
The sculpture-gallery came next. "Painting," says Hawthorne, "is
sunlight; sculpture is moonlight." Here group after group of beautifully
chiselled marble claimed our attention. The _Minerva Medica_, _Niobe_,
_Apollo_, the _Faun_, the _Torso Belvedere_, the _Apollo Belvedere_, and
a thousand others; above all, that miracle of ancient art--_the
Laocoon_:
"A father's love and mortal's agony,
With an immortal's patience blending:--vain
The struggle; vain, against the coiling strain
And gripe, and deepening of the dragon's grasp,
The old man's clench; the long envenom'd chain
Rivets the living links,--the enormous asp
Enforces pang on pang, and stifles gasp on gasp."
By the way, both here and at St. Peter's much of the natural beauty of
the nude figures is artificially covered, which certainly greatly
detracts from the effect. This was done by the command of some prudish
Pope, who was as surely wanting in right and pure feeling as in a proper
comprehension and appreciation of art.
"The heathen
Veiled their Diana with some drapery;
And when they represented Venus naked
They made her, by her modest attitude,
Appear half clothed."
The silk tapestries in the Vatican excited our wonder and admiration.
They are most beautifully worked pictures, and cover the walls over an
immense area. Unfortunately, we had a nonchalant guide on this day, who
was only enthusiastic over his cigarettes, and whose purely mechanical
utterances exasperated one in the same degree as do the solemn old
Beefeaters in our own Tower, or the garrulous, conceited guide at Notre
Dame, Paris. A good cicerone can invest the most trifling objects with
interest, while a bad one simply irritates one's temper and wastes
precious time.
The Vatican palace is a large, ugly, barrack-like building, painted
yellow, and surrounded by high walls. Here "His Holiness" lives, a
self-immured prisoner, on unlimited patrol. It is an immense place.
There are two courts, eight grand, and a hundred smaller staircases, and
upward of a thousand rooms. Indeed, the Vatican taken as a whole, with
its extensive stables, etc., resembles a small town rather than the
palace of a sovereign. So that, though a "prisoner," Leo XIII. is by no
means shut up in a cloister. He is, I believe, a man of the highest
culture, and leads a most unselfish and simple life: frugal in his own
personal expenses--the cost of his table not exceeding that of an
ordinary labouring man--he is filled with an earnest desire to exercise
the responsibilities of his position. One can well imagine, therefore,
that the almost total deprivation from temporal power, and the
neutralized allegiance of so many of his Italian subjects, must be most
galling and heart-breaking to him. The Pope, indeed, is almost a
nonentity at home; yet we cannot but feel that this alienation between
Italy and her spiritual father is for the real good of the State. It has
ever been the policy of the Papacy to keep the people in poverty and
superstitious ignorance. The priesthood has shamefully failed to
identify themselves with the aspirations and wants of the people, and
consequently have lost all hold on their hearts. Other nations have
freed themselves gradually from the yoke of Rome, so baleful in its
influences to all vigorous strength and constitutional greatness. And
now Italy has certainly a future before her, downtrodden in the dust as
she has been for many years. Garibaldi's was the arm to raise her; his
the voice to hail Victor Emmanuel with the proud title of "_Re
d'Italia_." It is, therefore, significant of the times and of the
future, that a people so susceptible of adoration and superstition as
the Italians, should have lost faith in the efficacy of their
priesthood, and have fairly had their eyes opened to the fact that the
dignitaries of the Church have been well fed and prosperous, dwelling in
gorgeous palaces, and wearing fine apparel, at the expense of the
starving population, who have paid them for their prayers for the repose
of their dead, for their confessions of sin, and maybe for fresh
indulgence in the same. Happily, their minds are now awakening from long
darkness and ignorance, to view in its true light the degrading bondage
in which they have so long been content to remain passive.
Yet this supremacy of the Roman Church, before it was so grossly abused,
like all other remnants of the system of the dark ages, has been of use
in its day. The priesthood combined with their religious duties those
faculties now known as Law, Physic, and Literature, and also supplied
the place of all charitable and scholastic institutions. The Church was
the nursery of Christendom, and it is only since the world has
progressed in education, and arrived at manhood, that it has renounced
the leading-strings of its infancy. England, Germany, and all the other
Teutonic races of the north, the elder children of Europe, did this long
ago; they dated their coming of age at the Reformation, and united in
revolt against the grossly abused power of their nurse and
foster-mother, who still sought to control their actions and destinies.
They laughed at the rod of excommunication, threateningly upheld; and
this once defied, the Pope and his Cardinals were fain to turn their
attention exclusively to those who were still content to be under their
protecting wing. But now the time has arrived once more when these also
desire to emancipate themselves from thraldom. Let us hope, then, that
the manhood of Italy will be a noble one, and full of earnest faith and
high endeavour.
The Church of St. John Lateran, in the Piazza di St. Giovanni (on the
site of the house of Plautius Lateranus, one of the conspirators against
Nero), is one of the chief Basilicas. (This title of "Basilica" is only
given to those churches whose foundation dates from the time of
Constantine.) The five general councils known as the "Lateran Councils"
were held here. It is called "The Mother and Head of all the Churches of
the City and the World," and takes precedence even of St. Peter's in
point of sanctity. The portico and doors are very fine, and the interior
possesses much of interest; it is divided into five aisles, resting on
lateral arches and pilasters. Here, in 1300, Pope Boniface VIII.
proclaimed the Jubilee from the balcony, Dante being present on the
occasion. The Corsini Chapel is said to be the richest in Rome, some
half a million sterling having been squandered on it. There are some
very fine mosaics and paintings by Guido, Sacchi, and others. Like most
of the churches, it has a great many legends attaching to it to enhance
its interest. Among other pretended relics shown here are two pillars
from the temple of Jerusalem, the well of Samaria, and the table used at
the Last Supper. The Scala Santa, or holy stairs, on the palace side of
the church, and detached from it, are composed of twenty-eight black
marble steps, said to have belonged to the palace of Pontius Pilate at
Jerusalem. Penitents ascend these steps on their knees (no foot being
allowed to touch them), praying as they go, in order to visit a
sanctorum at the top, which contains a portrait of the Saviour, painted,
so the priests tell us, _by St. Luke at twelve years of age_. They
descend by other steps, and thus they acquire so many days' or years'
indulgence. An Englishman, a fellow-traveller, told me that he had
ascended the steps as described, not being allowed to do otherwise, and
he found it very sore work for his poor knees--and "Serve him right,"
thought I. In one of the adjoining chapels of this church an attendant
sells pictures and relics. There is no real reverence here for sanctity
of the House of God, as is shown by thus turning it into a house of
merchandize, and also by the vile and unpleasant habit indulged in of
spitting all over the beautiful mosaic and marble floors.
The Borgo Novice is the finest street in this part of the city.