hundred and eighty-three steps, cut out of solid marble, twenty-three
blocks of which, placed horizontally one over the other, compose the
column; from the summit, which is surrounded by an iron railing, there
is a fine view of the city. This beautiful pillar had formerly a gilded
bronze statue of the emperor Trajan placed on its summit, with a globe
in his hand, containing his own ashes, which was, by Pope Sextus the
Fifth, exchanged for one of St. Peter. At its lower extremity the pillar
is twelve feet in diameter, gradually diminishing as it ascends to ten;
the height, from the base to the top of the statue, is one hundred and
thirty-three feet; the outside of the column is beautifully ornamented in
basso relievo, with a representation of the Dacian war, admirably wrought
on a continued spiral line from the bottom of the column to its top, as a
memorial of his success in which, the Roman senate erected and dedicated
this noble structure to the emperor, whose name it still bears. The spot,
on which it stands, was formerly the centre of the forum of Trajan.
After this we walked over what was once the celebrated Forum Romanum,
originally built by Romulus, and where the courts of justice were held.
This once important square, now known by the name of the Campo Vaccino,
was supposed to have been seven hundred and fifty feet in length and five
hundred broad.
From hence we extended our walk to the Palatine-hill, passing near the
Via Sacra, which lay about eight or ten feet below us, and from which
the rubbish had been cleared to make it visible; we then pursued our way
to the baths of Livy; the Coliseum; and the tomb of Cestius, which is a
pyramidal structure, one hundred and twenty feet in height, and ninety
square at its base; it is situated adjoining to the wall of the city,
very near the burial ground for foreigners, amongst the various tombs of
which my companions noticed several with English inscriptions.
We now passed on to Monte Testaccio, which has derived its existence and
name, from the quantities of broken vases, mixed with rubbish, which have
been deposited upon its site. The top of this mound is surmounted by a
cross.
Although our Ciceroni were much fatigued with their excursion, we
could not forbear visiting the Tarpeian Rock, and the Pantheon. On our
return, as it was too late for Francis’s table d’hôte, we dined at a
_trattorias_, where a variety of dishes are kept ready cooked, or ready
for cooking at a moment’s notice. They have also a great variety of
good wines, and amongst the rest, we here tasted the Orvieto, so justly
extolled as a delicious beverage, and which reminded me forcibly of good
bottled Devonshire cider.
During my residence at Rome, I generally preferred dining at one of
these houses, as possessing some advantages over the table d’hôte;
strangers find here a great facility in acquiring the language, as the
conversation is carried on almost exclusively in the Italian tongue;
while, at the same time, an Englishman is sure to meet with numbers
of his countrymen. The present was the season of Lent, when Rome is
generally thought to be badly supplied with provisions; I was not,
however, conscious of any deficiency, except in the article of lamb,
which is forbidden to be sold or made use of during this season; but they
contrive to have young kid as a substitute, and which is made use of in
great abundance. I am told that different houses of entertainment pay the
pope for a licence to serve heretics, during the season of Lent, with
forbidden viands.
On the following day, being Thursday, I visited the Vatican for the
first time: this museum is open for public inspection every Thursday and
Sunday, but it is possible to gain admittance on any other day, and also
to see it in the evening by torch-light, although by a late regulation,
the nocturnal parties are restricted to twelve persons at a time, as many
as can see the rooms with advantage.
My feelings on entering the museum of the finest sculpture in the world,
were not of that rapturous nature, which I hear every amateur of this
beautiful and interesting art, or even a common observer, express. No! it
was not with me as with others, who, on entering the room, are struck by
a collection of the finest statues bursting on their view, not knowing
what first, or most to admire, being for a time lost in the confusion of
delightful variety, and viewing them collectively, before they can fix
their attention on any single object; how different were my feelings! for
when it was announced that I was in the midst of these exquisite works of
art, although my imagination was raised to the highest pitch, and well
adapted to supply the deficiency of visual organs, it could but faintly
convey to my mind, the impressions which an ocular inspection, as above
described, must have excited. This coup d’œil, with me, was not only
wanting, but I had to walk up to each statue in rotation, and listen to
a tame description of its beauties. I was even not allowed the advantage
of examining by the touch, as soldiers were placed in each apartment,
to prevent such violation: had I been freely permitted this kind of
examination, I doubt not, that I might have been as highly gratified as
those who saw, for the sense of touch conveys to my mind as clear, or
at least as satisfactory, ideas of the form, and I think I may add, the
force of expression, as sight does to others. I did occasionally examine
them in this way by stealth, when I was apprised that the soldiers’ backs
were turned towards me.
After leaving the Vatican, I walked with a friend in the gardens of the
Villa Medici, where we met the Cardinal Pacca, to whom I had the honour
of being introduced, and who behaved in the most polite and affable
manner, conversing with me for some time in French.
On Saturday, the 12th of April, a criminal was guillotined in the
Piazza del Popolo, for committing various robberies and murders,
notwithstanding, he was only twenty-three years of age. Criminals are
not here arraigned before their judge and accusers, but the charge
is examined, and the sentence awarded in private; nor is the convict
acquainted with the nature of his sentence, if the punishment of death is
decreed, until the middle of the night before execution, when a priest
gives the information, and urges him to confession, in which case,
the sentence is carried into effect at nine o’clock in the morning;
otherwise, if he refuses to confess, it is deferred until three in the
afternoon.
In the middle of the night, of the 11th and 12th of April, a fire broke
out in the house where one of my particular friends, Mr. H⸺, resided, and
which compelled him to remove Mrs. H⸺, his family, and valuable effects,
in the first instance, into the middle of the street, and afterwards
to the residence of a friend. The accident originated in the apartment
of an Italian lawyer, who resided on the floor above Mr. H⸺, and, in
consequence of a drunken servant dropping a candle on his straw mattress;
the whole room was soon in flames, which burst out from the windows, and
made a most frightful appearance, but were at length extinguished by
throwing in buckets of water, and without communicating beyond the room
in which they commenced. Perhaps I ought rather to say, they extinguished
themselves for want of more fuel, having lasted until the few contents of
the room were consumed, being prevented from extending, in consequence
of the stone floors and staircase, and the thickly plastered walls. The
engines were brought, and immense crowds of people assembled, evidently
for amusement, for although Mr. H⸺ exerted himself to the utmost to
extinguish the flames, he could not induce the by-standers to give
the least assistance. In the morning, his family returned to their
apartments, without having sustained any other injury than the fright.
On Sunday I attended divine service, at the English place of worship,
which was a large room in the house of Mrs. L⸺. After this I visited the
Capitol, where I met with no one to prevent my touching the statues, &c.
In the evening, we had some delightful music and singing in the Chiesa
Nuova, the operatic character of which, however, impressed me more with
the idea of a theatre, than a church. After this we concluded the day at
Dr. C⸺’s.
We had now several rainy days, which prevented my getting out as usual.
On Thursday the 12th, I again visited the Vatican, with increased
pleasure, as I was enabled to recognise many of the statues as old
acquaintances. On the following day, Mr. C⸺ and myself visited the
churches of St. Pietro in Vinculis; Sta. Maria Maggiore; St. Martin; and
the chapel of Remus.
We afterward explored the baths of Titus, the Forum, and the Coliseum.
At the latter, we remained some time examining the Arena; we ascended
the long staircases; traversed the encircling corridors; looked into the
baker’s oven; and carried off, as sacred relics, a small piece of brick
pavement, and one of the many wild plants, which grew upon the walls.
During this research, a monk, attended by a number of followers, entered
the Amphitheatre, took his station near the centre, and treated us with
an exhibition of very correspondent character, to what had so frequently
been displayed on this spot, during the periods of the glory of Rome.
He paced backwards and forwards upon the space of a few yards, ranting
most violently, and accompanying his voice with such gesticulations and
actions, that he might, by a slight effort of imagination, have been
readily mistaken for a wild beast displaying on the Arena. I am almost
ashamed to acknowledge, that a ludicrous comparison of former, with
present times, suggested itself to our minds while he was detailing to
an admiring and approving audience, in this roaring manner, the virtues
of the blessed Virgin, and asserting her claims to be worshipped in
preference to our Saviour himself, and every other power in heaven or on
earth, above or below; the only cool spectators besides ourselves, were
three German artists, who, however, paid a greater compliment to the
orator than we did, for although they continued their sketches of the
building, they took off their hats out of respect for the religion of the
country.
CHAP. XVI.
ROME.
The ensuing week was the holy one preceding Easter, and of course
observed at Rome with extraordinary solemnity.
On the Sunday, being Palm-Sunday, the pope entered the Sistine chapel
about nine o’clock, when the ceremony commences; but I shall not
attempt to describe the various arrangements of the great and little
palm-branches, or the number of kisses bestowed on the pontiff’s hand and
toe.
On Monday we had a rainy morning, but it cleared off in the afternoon.
About four o’clock the king of Naples arrived on his way from Florence,
and was received with salutes of cannons, bands of music, and other
honours.
Tuesday was also a rainy day, and I did not attend the ceremonies of
the Roman church. To-day a select party of friends dined at Francis’s
hotel, and amongst the rest a young American physician, Dr. G⸺, who had
been a companion of my friend Mr. C⸺ and his son, in a felucca voyage
from Naples, and for the last three weeks had been laid up in the house
with a fever, taken from exposure on their journey to the Malaria, or
exhalations arising from the marshy grounds about the mouth of the
Tiber, where they were detained two days, by the necessity of obtaining
permission from Cardinal Gonsalvi to land. The vessel they had engaged,
had previously been employed in the charcoal trade, and the gentlemen
having ordered a quantity of clean straw to be placed in the hold as a
more commodious birth, the consequence was, that the coal dust, from the
motion of the vessel, worked up into the straw from the chinks between
the boards, so that in the morning, when they turned out, they were
astonished to find they were become as dirty and swarthy as Neapolitan
sailors themselves.
There are three _misereres_ performed in Passion week: the first was sung
on Wednesday; the second on Thursday, and the last on Good Friday; all of
which I attended. To describe as they merit, these exquisite pieces of
vocal music, requires a power which I do not possess; they must be heard
to be comprehended; it appears to me beyond the reach of art, to bring an
assemblage of human voices to the perfection which was here attained; and
to produce such modulations of heavenly harmony: had I not been assured
to the contrary, I could not have believed but they must have been
assisted by the finest-toned instruments:—
“Can any mortal mixture of earth’s mould
Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?”
Much as I had heard of the rapturous effect; it far exceeded any
expectation I had formed; notwithstanding, it is unusual to find
the objects of extravagant eulogy, afford a real, or proportionate,
gratification.
“⸺such a sacred and home-felt delight
Such sober certainty of waking bliss,
I never heard till now⸺”
On Good Friday, after the last miserere, we went to St. Peter’s, where
a most brilliantly illuminated cross was suspended; we did not however,
continue there long, being almost satiated with these raree-shows. I then
had the pleasure of spending a quiet evening with my friends Mr. and Mrs.
H⸺, to whose interest I had been indebted for securing my places at each
of the misereres, as well as for many other kind attentions during my
stay in Rome.
Easter Sunday at length arrived, which in every respect, and particularly
in point of pageantry, is the greatest festival observed by the Roman
church throughout the year. The two first grand ceremonies of the
procession, and the pope’s benediction, I did not attend. I was present,
however, at the illumination of St. Peter’s, and the exhibition
of fire-works at the castle of St. Angelo; but, alas! denied the
gratification of seeing the brilliant spectacles. I cannot, however,
resist the inclination to transcribe the following animated description
of these enchanting scenes, as well as the preceding ceremonies,
extracted from a late publication, entitled “Rome in the Nineteenth
Century.”
“On this day the church puts forth all her pomp and splendour. The
pope assists at high mass, and there is a procession, which, seen to
the highest advantage in that noble church, is as grand as any such
procession can be. A pen was erected for the ladies on the left of the
high altar, for wherever the pope comes, they are always cooped up for
fear of accidents. Luckily, however, it was unprovided with a grate,
so they could see more to perfection. It was, in all respects, a happy
liberation from the gloomy imprisonment they had been sustaining, day
after day, behind the grate, in the sistine chapel. The sable robes that
they wore during the last week, were now universally thrown aside, and
the gayer—the more catholicly orthodox—were they.
“The church was lined with the Guarda Nobili, in their splendid uniforms
of gold and scarlet, and nodding plumes of white ostrich feathers; and
the Swiss guards, with their polished cuirasses and steel helmets. The
great centre aisle was kept clear by a double wall of armed men, for
the grand procession, the approach of which, after much expectation,
was proclaimed by the sound of a trumpet, from the farther end of the
church. A long band of priests advanced, loaded with still augmenting
magnificence, as they ascended to the higher orders. Cloth of gold and
embroidery of gold and silver, and crimson velvet, and mantles of spotted
ermine, and flowing trains, and attendant train-bearers, and mitres,
and crucifixes glittering with jewels, and priests, and patriarchs, and
bishops, and cardinals, dazzled our astonished eyes, and filled the long
length of St. Peter’s. Lastly came the pope in his crimson chair of
state, borne on the shoulders of twenty Palefrenieri, arrayed in robes of
white, and wearing the tiara, or triple crown of the conjoined Trinity,
with a canopy of cloth of silver, floating over his head, and preceded
by two men, carrying enormous fans, composed of large plumes of ostrich
feathers, mounted on long gilded wands. He stopped to pay his adorations
to the miraculous Madonna, in her chapel, about half way up; and this
duty, which he never omits, being performed, he was slowly borne past
the high altar, liberally giving his benediction with the twirl of his
fingers as he passed. They sat him down upon a magnificent stool, in
front of the altar, on which he knelt, and the crown being taken off, and
the cardinals taking off their little red scull-caps, and all kneeling in
a row, he was supposed to pray. Having remained in this attitude a few
minutes, they took him to the chair prepared for him, on the right of the
throne. There he read, or seemed to read, something out of a book, for it
was impossible, that without his spectacles, he could really make it out;
and then he was again taken to the altar, on which his tiara was placed;
and bareheaded, he repeated, or as by courtesy they call it, sang a small
part of the service, threw up clouds of incense, and was removed to the
crimson canopied throne, and high mass was celebrated by a cardinal and
two bishops, at which he assisted, that is, he got up and sat down, in
particular parts.
“During the whole service, I could not help observing, that the only part
of the congregation who where in the least attentive, were the small
body of English, whom curiosity, and perhaps sense of decorum, rendered
so. All the Italians seemed to consider it quite as much of a pageant
as ourselves, but neither a new, nor an interesting one; and they were
walking about, and talking, and interchanging pinches of snuff with each
other, exactly as if it had been a place of amusement, till the tinkling
of a little bell, which announced the elevation of the Host, changed the
scene. Every knee was now bent to the earth; every voice was hushed; the
reversed arms of the military rung with an instantaneous clang on the
marble pavement, as they sunk on the ground, and all was still as death.
This did not last above two minutes. The Host was swallowed; and so begun
and ended the only thing that bore even the smallest outward aspect of
religion. They brought the pope, however, again to the footstool to pray.
Two cardinals always support him, some priestly attendants bear up his
train, and others busy themselves about his drapery, while two or three
others put on and off his tiara and mitre; and so conduct him to and
fro, between the altar and the throne, where he sits at the top of his
magnificent temple, exactly like an idol dressed up to be worshipped. The
long silver robes, the pale, dead, inanimate countenance, and helpless
appearance of the good old man, tend still more to give him the air of a
thing without any will of its own, but which is carried about, and set in
motion, and managed by the priests, and taught by them to make certain
movements.
“At last they put him again into the chair, set the crown upon his
head, and, preceded by the great ostrich feather fans, he was borne out
of the church. We made all possible expedition up to the loggia,—a
temporary sort of gallery, erected on the top of the colonnade, opposite
to that occupied by the royal families,—and secured places in the front
row. An expecting crowd had long covered the broad expanded steps, and
platform of the church, and spread itself over the piazza. The military
now poured out of St. Peter’s and formed an immense ring, before its
spacious front, behind which the horse guards were drawn up, and an
immense number of carriages, filled with splendidly dressed women, and
thousands of people on foot, were assembled. But the multitude almost
shrunk into insignificance in the vast area of the piazza; and neither
piety, curiosity, nor even that all universal gregarious passion, that
makes people crowd wherever there is a crowd, had collected together
sufficient numbers to fill it. The tops of the colonnades all round,
were, however thronged with spectators; and it was a curious sight to
see such a mixture of all ranks and nations,—from the coronetted heads
of kings, to the poor cripple who crawled along the pavement,—assembled
together to await the blessing of an old man, their fellow-mortal, now
tottering on the brink of the grave. Not the least picturesque figures
among the throng, were the Contadini, who, in every variety of curious
costume, had flocked in from their distant mountain villages, to receive
the blessing of the holy father, and whose bright and eager countenances,
shaded by their long dark hair, were turned to the balcony where the
pope was to appear. At length the two white ostrich feather fans, the
forerunners of his approach, were seen, and he was borne forward on his
throne above the shoulders of the cardinals and bishops, who filled the
balcony. After an audible prayer, he arose, and elevating his hands
to heaven, invoked a solemn benediction upon the assembled multitude,
and all the people committed to his charge. Every head was uncovered,
the soldiers, and many of the spectators, sunk on their knees on the
pavement to receive the blessing. That blessing was given with impressive
solemnity, but with little gesture and parade. Immediately the thundering
of cannon from the castle of St. Angelo, and the peal of bells from St.
Peter’s, proclaimed the joyful tidings to the skies. The pope was borne
out, and the people rose from their knees; but at least one half of them
had never knelt at all, which greatly diminished the impressive effect of
the whole. I forgot to say, that, after the benediction, several papers
were thrown down by one of the cardinals, which contained, I understand,
the indulgence granted to the different churches, and a most pious
scuffle ensued among the people to catch them. The pope’s benediction
this day, the Italians say, extends all over the world, but on Thursday,
it only goes to the gates of Rome. On Thursday too, previous to the
benediction, one of the cardinals curses all Jews, Turks, and heretics,
‘by bell, book, and candle.’ The little bell is rung, the curse is sung
from the book, and the lighted taper thrown down amongst the people. The
pope’s benediction immediately follows upon all true believers. At Ave
Maria we took our station on the right of the farther extremity of the
piazza of St. Peter’s, so as to lose the deformity of the dark dingy
Vatican Palace. The gathering shades of night, rendered the illumination
every moment more brilliant.
“The whole of this immense church,—its columns, capitals, cornices, and
pediments,—the beautiful swell of the lofty dome, towering into heaven,
the ribs converging into one point at top, surmounted by the lantern of
the church, and crowned by the cross,—all were designed in lines of fire;
and the vast sweep of the circling colonnades, in every rib, line, mould,
cornice, and column, were resplendent in the same beautiful light.
“While we were gazing upon it, suddenly a bell chimed. On the cross, at
the top, waved a brilliant light, as if wielded by some celestial hand,
and instantly ten thousand globes, and stars of vivid fire, seemed to
roll spontaneously along the building, as if by magic; and self-kindled,
it blazed in a moment into one dazzling flood of glory. Fancy herself,
in her most sportive mood, could scarcely have conceived so wonderful a
spectacle, as the instantaneous illumination of this magnificent fabric.
The agents by whom it was effected were unseen, and it seemed to be
the work of enchantment. In the first instance, the illuminations had
appeared to be complete, and one could not dream, that thousands, and
tens of thousands of lamps were still to be illuminated. Their vivid
blazes harmonized beautifully with the softer, milder light of the
lanternoni.
“The brilliant glow of the whole illumination shed a rosy light upon
the fountains, whose silver fall, and ever-playing showers, accorded
well with the magic of the scene. Viewed from the Trinita de’ Monti, its
effect was unspeakably beautiful. It seemed to be an enchanted palace,
hung in air, and called up by the wand of some invisible spirit.