CORNELL 
 
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Cornell University Library 
 arV1080 
 
 Notes of travel and study in Italy. 
 
 3 1924 031 167 657 
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Cornell University 
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NOTES 
 
 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
NOTES 
 
 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 BT 
 
 CHARLES ELIOT NORTON. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 TICKNOR AND FIELDS. 
 
 M DCCC LX. 
 
Entered according to Act df Congress, in ihe year 1859, by 
 
 CHARLES ELIOT NOETON, 
 
 In the Clerk's Ofllce of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 BITERSIPE, OAMBHIDGE: 
 
 BIEBEOTTPED AND PBIHTED BT 
 
 H. 0. HOUOHTON AND COHPANT. 
 
PKEFACE. 
 
 A PORTION of the following Notes appeared iu 
 " The Crayon " during the year 1856. The larger 
 part of this volume, however, is now published for 
 the first time. 
 
 I am well aware that a traveller is likely often 
 to draw false inferences from what he sees and 
 hears, especially in a country whose people are of 
 a different race and whose institutions are of a dif- 
 ferent character from those of his own. This has 
 led me to be sparing in my deductions from my 
 personal observation and experience. 
 
 But there are certain principles in religion and 
 in government of imiversal application ; and how 
 far these principles are adopted or rejected in any 
 special state is a subject upon which an intelligent 
 man is bound to form and at liberty to express a 
 distinct opinion. 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 I have not hesitated in the following pages to 
 express myself strongly in regard to some of the 
 corrupt doctrines of the Roman Church and 
 methods of the Papal Government. But while 
 condemning much in the practice of the authori- 
 ties of the Church, I retain the highest respect 
 for many of its members, — and I am bound to 
 some of them by ties of warm affection. I regret 
 that what I have said may, if it come before them, 
 give pain to persons whom I should wish only to 
 please. 
 
 The present condition of Italy is ftJl of hope for 
 the future. A new life seems to have begun for 
 her, and every lover of freedom will join in the 
 wish that Carlo Alberto's vigorous declaration may 
 now prove true, Italia ford da se. 
 
 Shady WU, Cambridge, Mass., 5th December, 1859. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 FAaz 
 
 The Riviera. Genoa. Flobbnce . . . 1-25 
 
 Entrance to Italy 1 
 
 Modern Middle Ages 2 
 
 The Prospects of Sardinia .... 3 
 
 The Festa of the Immaculate Conception . . 5 
 
 The Cathedral Buildings at Pisa ... 8 
 
 La Compagnia della Misericordia . . . 12 
 
 Rome 27-96 
 
 Stendhal on entering Rome . . . . 29 
 
 The Burial of Prince Corsini .... 29 
 
 The Propaganda . 32 
 
 The Festa of Sant' Antonio. A Recent Miracle 36 
 
 A Taking of the Veil 44 
 
 Cornelius and his School . . . . . 49 
 
 The Accademia Tiberina .... S7 
 
 The Chapel of Nicholas V., and Fra Angelico . 62 
 
Vlil CONTENTS. 
 
 PAQE 
 
 An Architect's Imprisonment .... 70 
 
 Character of the Roman Government . . 72 
 
 The Massacre of St. Bartholomew at Rome . 75 
 
 Roman Justice 84 
 
 The Good Works of Letterato ... 85 
 
 Evening Schools 93 
 
 Obvieto 97-159 
 
 The Building of the Cathedral .... 99 
 
 Rome. Naples. Venice 161-196 
 
 Ecclesiastical Government 163 
 
 Bitterness of the Italian Poets * . . . 165 
 The Love of Sertorius for Rome . . . 166 
 Shakespeare : Ballo in Quattro Pard . . 166 
 A Specimen of Neapolitan Theology . . . 169 
 Education of the Poor. Falerii Novi . . 170 
 Popular Lessons at Perugia . . . .174 
 Mr. John Bell's Criticisms on Pictures at Bo- 
 logna 175 
 
 Hell and Purgatory 181 
 
 The Mosses of St. Mark's 186 
 
 Rome 197-320 
 
 Shakespeare on Rome 199 
 
 The Erection of the Column of the Immaculate 
 
 Conception 201 
 
CONTENTS. ix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Harvest and the Priests .... 203 
 
 The Doctrine of Indulgences .... 204 
 
 The Transmigration of Cardinals . . . 220 
 
 A Sermon by the Pfere Petitot .... 221 
 
 Buried Treasures and Stories on Walls . . 225 
 
 Cheap Literature and Modern Miracles . . 229 
 
 A Sermon by Dr. Manning .... 239 
 Montaigne, Bacon, and the New Testament 'in 
 
 the Index 241 
 
 Borne in the Time of Dante .... 246 
 
 Rome in the Time of Petrarch .... 268 
 
 The Mausoleum of Augustus . . . . 289 
 
 B Don Pirlone 292 
 
 The Renaissance in Italy . . . 298 
 
THE RIVIERA. GENOA. FLORENCE. 
 
THE ETVIERA. GENOA. FLORENCE. 
 
 December, 1855. 
 
 The Var forms the geographical boundary between 
 France and Italy ; but it is not till Nice is left behind, 
 and the first height of the Riviera is surmounted, that 
 the real Italy begins. Here the hills close round at the 
 north, and suddenly, as the road turns at the top of a 
 long ascent, the Mediterranean appears far b'elow, wash- 
 ing the feet of the mountains that form the coast, and 
 stretching away to the southern horizon. The line of 
 the shore is of extraordinary beauty. Here an abrupt 
 cliff rises from the sea ; here bold and broken masses of" 
 rock jut out into it ; here the hills, their gray sides ter- 
 raced for vineyards, slope, gently down to the water's 
 edge ; here they stretch into little promontories covered 
 with orange and olive trees. 
 
 One of the first of these promontories is that of Capo 
 Sant' Ospizio. A close grove of olives half conceals the 
 old castle on its extreme point. With the afternoon sun 
 full upon it, the trees palely glimmering as their leaves 
 move in the light air, the sea so blue and smooth as to be 
 like a darker sky, and not even a ripple upon the beach, 
 1 
 
2 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 it seems as if this were the very home of summer and of 
 repose. It is remote and secluded from the stir and 
 noise of the world. No road is seen leading to it, and 
 one looks down upon the solitary castle and wonders what 
 stories of enchantment and romance belong to a ruin that 
 appears as if made for their dwelling-place. It is a scene 
 out of that Italy which is the home of the imagination, 
 and which becomes the Italy of memory. 
 
 As the road winds down to the sea, it passes under a 
 high isolated peak, on which stands Esa, built as a city 
 of refuge against pirates and Moors. A little farther on, 
 
 " Its Roman strength Turbia showed 
 In ruins by this mountain road," — 
 
 not only recalling the ancient times, when it was the 
 boundary city of Italy and Gaul, and when Augustus 
 erected his triumphal arch within it, but associated also 
 with Dante and the steep of Purgatory. Beneath lies 
 Monaco, glowing " like a gem " on its oval rock, the sea 
 sparkling around it, and the long western rays of the 
 sinking sun lingering on its little palace, clinging to its 
 church belfry and its gray wall, as if loath to leave 
 them. 
 
 COGOLEWO. 
 
 As I passed through the lower room of the poor inn 
 in this dirty little town, which is one of the many that 
 claim the honor of having been the birth-place of Co- 
 lumbus, I was attracted by seeing a Franciscan hold- 
 ing a tin money-box, on which was painted a figure of 
 the Virgin, and engaged in close conversation with the 
 
GENOA. 3 
 
 master of the house. The room was used as a cqffe, 
 and idlers of various sorts were standing at the door, 
 or sitting at the table in the middle of the room tak- 
 ing their coffee or their glass of vermuth di Torino. 
 Some of them were listening to the talk between the 
 friar and the landlord ; and it appeared that the Francis- 
 can was trying to persuade the innkeeper to purchase 
 from him the secret of the lucky numbers in the lottery 
 which is to be drawn next Saturday in Genoa, — a 
 secret which he declared had been revealed to him in 
 a dream. The friar was successful, and, after some hag- 
 gling about the price, took a bit of money which jingled 
 into his box, giving in return a slip of paper on which 
 were inscribed the desired numbers. 
 
 The Middle Ages still possess Italy. In these country- 
 towns, even in enlightened Sardinia, one feels himself a 
 contemporary of Boccaccio, and might read many of the 
 tales of the " Decameron " as stories of the present day. 
 The life of the common people has much the same 
 aspect now as it had centuries ago. Italy has under- 
 gone many vicissitudes, but few changes. 11 vecehio 
 pianta la vigna e il giovine la vendemmia : " The old 
 plant the vine and the young gather the fruit from it," 
 says a common proverb. The Italians of to-day are 
 gathering the fruit off the ancient stock. 
 
 Gbitoa. 
 The success of the experiment of constitutional gov- 
 ernment in Sardinia is at this moment the chief hope of 
 Italy. A liberal and wise spirit of reform is uniting the 
 
4 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 interests of all classes, and a steady, gradual progress 
 proving the ability of Italians to govern themselves with- 
 out the excesses of enthusiasm or the evils of extrava- 
 gant and undisciplined hopes. While Milan and Venice 
 are hemmed round by Austrian bayonets, and Florence 
 is discontented under the stupid despotism of an insane 
 bigot, — while Rome stagnates under the superstition of 
 priests, and Naples under the brutality of a Bourbon, 
 Turin and Genoa are flourishing and independent. The 
 old traditions of the commercial enterprise and warlike 
 expeditions of the Genoese are being renewed, and the 
 prosperity of this great port is one of the most important 
 elements in the present political prospect of Italy. 
 
 Every gain of material power is at the same time a 
 gain of moral power for Sardinia. The regeneration of 
 Italy depends on the renewal of her ancient material 
 prosperity. Commerce is the support of liberty. Free 
 trade opens the way for free speech and free thought, 
 and leads to freedom in politics and in religion. Bail- 
 roads are more subversive of ecclesiastical supremacy 
 than the ablest tracts against Popery. To develop her 
 internal resources is the true policy of Sardinia. Her 
 increasing strength at home gives her new strength 
 abroad ; and her example is a daily growing danger to 
 the despotisms that lie around her borders. Lombardy 
 belongs by nature to Piedmont ; and no cordon of Aus- 
 trian troops, no legion of spies can keep Lombard eyes 
 from casting longing looks toward the west, or Lombard 
 hearts from being touched into flame by the breath of 
 liberty that invisibly blows over the frontier. Every 
 
PIETRA SANTA. 5 
 
 ship that Genoa sends from her harbor carries away, 
 as its unregistered cargo, something of the superstition 
 and ignorance of Northern Italy. Her trading-vessels 
 are the peaceful, but irresistible fleet of Freedom. Pied- 
 mont was the last retreat of Liberty in Italy, and it is 
 now becoming her stronghold. 
 
 It is not to be overlooked, however, that the present 
 condition of the mass of the people of Piedmont is so 
 low in point of education and of desire, that it is difficult 
 to make them take any hearty interest in the cause of 
 constitutional freedom, or to bear their part in the work- 
 ing of the government. They are led just now more 
 rapidly than they can well follow. The difference be- 
 tween the views of the common people and those of such 
 men as Cavour and d' Azeglio is a difference, not of de- 
 gree, but of kind. The peril of Sardinia arises not so 
 much from the neighboring hostility of Austria and the 
 dull opposition of Rome, as from the inevitable internal 
 weakness which must for a time be the result of such 
 forcing processes as she is compelled to undergo. 
 
 PiETKA Santa, 9th December, 1866. 
 A year ago the dogma of the Immaculate Conception 
 of the Virgin was pronounced at Rome, and the first 
 anniversary of this event, " which spread joy through the 
 heavens and the earth," as an inscription that I read de- 
 clared, has been celebrated to-day as a.festa. The streets 
 of the towns through which we have passed have been 
 filled with bright crowds of people keeping the holiday, 
 and all the bells of the churches have been ringing. We 
 
6 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 stopped at Pietra Santa just at sunset, and I went down 
 through the narrow street to the square of the little city, 
 where the old church of San Martino, and its tall, rough 
 brick campanile, form, with the smaller church of Sant' 
 Agostino, a group of buildings of striking pecuUarity and 
 interest. The square was almost empty, except imme- 
 diately around the doors of St. Martin's, through which 
 people were passing in and out. Going into the church, 
 I found it full of worshippers. The high altar was 
 lighted with a hundred candles, that burned in the midst 
 of brilliant decorations and hangings of crimson drapery. 
 The light about the altar was the only light in the church ; 
 the nave and aisles were dim in the twilight. On the 
 step of the altar, in front of the railing, were kneeling 
 a band of the Fratres Penitentise, in black dresses with 
 white capes, girt with a cord about their waists. Imme- 
 diately behind them sat the Gonfalonieri of the city, in 
 purple cloaks lined with yellow, and black velvet caps 
 with white plumes. Soldiers kept the space around 
 them clear, but all the rest of the church was filled by 
 men and women of every class, in characteristic and 
 picturesque varieties of costume, standing or kneeling; 
 while the priests chanted, and the choir, supported by 
 the organ and trumpets, took up in turn its parts of the 
 service. It was a scene fx-om the Middle Ages. It 
 seemed as if the old church were filled with such a 
 crowd as might have collected within it five centuries 
 ago. All was in keeping: — the strange dogma which 
 was being celebrated as a doctrine of pure religion, — 
 the growing darkness in the church, save where the can- 
 
PIETEA SANTA. 7 
 
 dies shone on the gold and silver ornaments of the altar, 
 — the voices of the priests, interrupted now and then by 
 the clink of the metallic money-box in the hands of the 
 beadles, as they passed round to collect the offerings of 
 the pious, — the chanted litany, with the loud murmur of 
 the responses through nave and aisles, — the dead lan- 
 guage of the service, — all seemed to partake more of 
 the spirit of the past than of the present, to be an inheri- 
 tance from Heathenism rather than the natural growth 
 of Christianity. 
 
 When the service had ended, it was growing dark out 
 of doors. The Gonfalonieri were accompanied by their 
 guard and a band of music to the city-hall, and the 
 illumination which had been prepared for the evening 
 celebration was begun. As the night became darker, 
 the scene became more beautiful. From the gate in 
 the old wall down through the main street leading to 
 the square, the houses were prettily lighted up ; but 
 in the square itself, the churches, and all the build- 
 ings round them, were brilliant with lamps, while lights 
 shone down from the ancient castle crowning the hill 
 that rises above the city. In a little chapel, whose out- 
 side was covered with colored lamps, a choir of boys 
 was singing. The townspeople and the peasants, in holi- 
 day costume, were assembled in great numbers to see 
 and take part in the show. The night was calm, so that 
 the lamps burned steadily ; and the pleasure of the time 
 was increased by the mildness of the air, which had no 
 touch of winter in it. The great church, such a church as 
 is found only in Northern Italy, with the irregular mould- 
 
8 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 ings of its doors, its quaint carvings, and its beautiful rose- 
 window, stood upon its platform, raised above the level of 
 the place, looking only the more venerable in the imper- 
 fect brilliancy of the illumination, which, while it sharply 
 defined some of the main lines of thefagade, left broad 
 spaces of wall in dim and shadowy obscurity. An illu- 
 mination is, perhaps, always quite as fine in its effects of 
 darkness as of light ; and while the eye is charmed with 
 the shining and brilliant lines cut sharp against the dark 
 sky, or with the fiery ornaments of crosses and stars that 
 lie against the black walls, or with the pencillings of 
 light that show the exquisite delicacy and gracefulness 
 of some ancient stone-cut ornament, — the imagination 
 leaves all these, and wanders off to lose itself among 
 the hidden secrets of the dense masses of blackness that 
 catch not even a reflection of the brightness around them, 
 but lie deeper and darker than night, vague and mysteri- 
 ous, in the very heart of light. 
 
 PiBA. 
 
 There are few buildings in the world so complete in 
 their effect, so impressive at first sight, and of such in- 
 creasing interest upon longer acquaintance, as the Duomo 
 group at Pisa. Forsyth has expressed a portion of their 
 peculiar charm, in one of those vivid and poetic half- 
 lines with which he redeems his cynical criticisms, when 
 he speaks of them as " fortunate alike in their society 
 and their solitude." Pisa has an air of repose, but not the 
 air of decay which is usually associated with it in Italian 
 cities. It is at once quiet and cheerful, and in its most 
 
THE CATHEDRAL BUILDINGS AT PISA. 9 
 
 retired part, close to the battlemented wall, remote from 
 bustle, but not secluded from approach, stand the Cathe- 
 dral, the Baptistery, the Campo Santo, and the Leaning 
 Tower. To their original beauties time has added those 
 which come only with age, softening and harmonizing all 
 that was rough and incongruous, and giving to their white 
 marble a hue which can be described only as that of 
 marble interfused with the yellow rays of sunshine, and, 
 while adding these beauties, has accumulated with them 
 all the charms of Art and of association. The contrast 
 between the color of the buildings and the blue sky is 
 beautiful; and the slanting shadows, thrown by a clear 
 afternoon sun from the seven circles of the pillars of the 
 Tower, from the pillared stories of the front of the Duomo, 
 and from the exquisite tracery of the arches of the Cam- 
 po Santo, produce effects which show how Nature delights 
 to adorn and embellish the well-executed works of man. 
 
 For the student of the works of the early artists, there 
 is no place in Italy of greater interest than ' the Campo 
 Santo. Its treasures have often been described; but 
 description can convey only an imperfect impression of 
 the solemn beauty and sacred interest of the place. All 
 its frescoes have suffered from the injuries of weather, 
 and the worse injuries of re-painting ; many of them are 
 almost obliterated, many have been shattered by careless 
 work upon the building, many broken away to give place 
 to worthless modern sepulchral monuments ; some are 
 patched with bits of coarse raw plaster, or clamped with 
 bands of iron that interrupt their finest passages ; yet they 
 still retain enough of outline and of color to indicate what 
 
10 TKAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 they must once have been, and to give a strong impres- 
 sion of the character and motives of their authors. Nor 
 is their interest only that of works of genius. In this 
 consecrated burial-place, these pictures were to prepare 
 the soul for life and for death. They were not the vain 
 imaginings of the fancy, not for mere delight of the eyes, 
 but they were representations of the deepest and most 
 essential realities. It is in them that one may find the 
 religious ideas of the Middle Ages exhibited in their 
 most impressive forms ; and, spite of all grotesqueness of 
 arrangement, deficiency of drawing, ignorance of compo- 
 sition, and absence of the graces of a later age, it is from 
 them that one may learn the power of an art, which, 
 though it embodies crude and false religious notions, does 
 so with a simple and sincere faith. In seeing these fres- 
 coes, one feels that the picturce ecclesiarum were indeed, 
 in those times the libri Imcorum.. The lessons they 
 taught were easily learned, and the stories they told were 
 too plain to be misunderstood. 
 
 There are few places which are so harmonious in their 
 character with the works of Art they contain as this 
 Campo Santo. The cloistered aisles paved with sepul- 
 chral slabs, — the sun falling through the Gothic tracery 
 of the arches, and casting down dark shadows upon the 
 effigies of crusaders and religious men, worn with the 
 steps of centuries, — the relics of ancient sculpture, and of 
 Middle- Age carvings, placed around the lower walls, — 
 the sarcophagi in which the ashes of kings have lain, — 
 the chains that marked the ancient servitude of Pisa, now 
 restored by Florence, and hung up here, where jealousies 
 
THE CATHEDRAL BUILDINGS AT PISA. 11 
 
 and rivabies are to be forgotten, — the consecrated earth 
 from Palestine, covered with the greenest grass, — the 
 dark cypress, the closed-in quiet and solitude, — all give 
 to this Campo Santo that solemnity and beauty of aspect, 
 that air of peacefulness and repose, which befit the 
 burial-place where a city has laid its chosen dead for 
 more than five hundred years. 
 
 There is one other scene in Pisa of such great beauty 
 that it deserves to be remembered even with the cathe- 
 dral buildings. It is the Lung* Arno at sunset. The 
 sun goes down behind the Ponte a Mare and the Torre 
 Guelfa. The heavy, irregular arches of the bridge, and 
 the tall, square mass of the tower, stand out against the 
 red sky, and are reflected in the rapid water. On the 
 southern bank stands the little gem-like chapel of the 
 Spina, — its white marble pinnacles, crockets, and finials 
 catching something of the sunset glow. On the other 
 bank is the line of houses and palaces, conspicuous among 
 which is that which bears the chain over its door, and 
 the words, " Alia Giomata," cut on the block from which 
 it hangs. To the north and east, miles away, the moun- 
 tains rise blue above the city, their snow-tipped summits 
 tinged with a golden rose-color. And 
 
 " On the surface of the fleeting river 
 The wrinkled image of the city lay, 
 
 Immovably unquiet, and forever 
 It trembles, and it does not pass away." 
 
12 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Flokenck, 16th Dec, 1856, Sunday. 
 For some days past, notice has been given, by a pla- 
 card posted at the church-doors, and in other places, that 
 to-day the Compagnia della Misericordia (the Brother- 
 hood of Mercy) would visit the church of the Santissima 
 Vergine Annunziata, the protectress of Florence, to ren- 
 der solemn thanks to her for having delivered the city 
 from the scourge of cholera. This Compagnia is one of 
 the most remarkable institutions, and this church one of 
 the most interesting churches of Florence. The church 
 derives its name from a wonderful picture, in which the 
 head of the Virgin is said to have been painted by angels 
 while the artist slept, and which was formerly venerated 
 for its miracle-working power throughout Northern Italy. 
 The picture is not shown except on occasion of the 
 most solemn ceremonies. It is usually kept covered by 
 a veil, upon which is painted a head of the Saviour by 
 Andrea del Sarto. The cortile in front of the church 
 contains several frescoes by the same artist, and over the 
 door of the cloisters at its side is his famous Madonna del 
 Sacco, which, although faded, and otherwise injured by 
 time, still retains enough beauty to justify its ancient 
 reputation, and to place it among the finest works of this 
 unhappy painter. The chapel of the Virgin, overloaded 
 with the rich gifts and votive offerings of her worship- 
 pers, is decorated with lilies, which are at once the device 
 of the city and the emblem of its protectress. Round 
 about it burn forty-two lamps of silver ; and no chapel in 
 Florence is more brilliant, or more frequented. The 
 worship of the Virgin seems now to be at its height in 
 
LA COMPAGNIA DELLA MISEEICOEDIA. 13 
 
 Italy,* and her churches and chapels are everywhere 
 receiving new honors. 
 
 * That the Virgin has long been the chief object of worship among 
 the common people in Italy is notorious, and the present Pope has 
 done much to increase the devotion to her. Since the dogma of the 
 Immaculate Conception was pronounced, this devotion has prevailed 
 to a greater extent than ever before, and becomes, apparently, more 
 and more exclusive. The present condition of Christianity in Italy is 
 one of the most striking and sad of the many sad aspects that she 
 presents. In a little book of services for the use of the devout at 
 this church of the Most Holy Maria Annunziata, it is said that the 
 Pope, by his Brief of the 10th of July, 1854, has conceded an indul- 
 gence of three hundred days to whoever shall recite devoutly the fol- 
 lowing prayer: — 
 
 A Voi, Vergine Madre, 
 Che mai foste tocca, 
 Da reo alcnn di colpa 
 N4 attuale n6 originale 
 Baccomando ed affido. 
 La purita del mio cuore. 
 
 The pamphlet closes with a hymn of praise to the Virgin, of an 
 extraordinary character. It reminds one of a political song. It will 
 hardly bear translation: its first stanza is as follows: — 
 
 Or 1' Inno s' innaizi, 
 Del fervido Ewiva, 
 Che dolce alia riva 
 Dell'Amo echeggib. 
 
 Sul labbro devoto, 
 
 Continovo sia, 
 Ewiva Maria, e ohi la oreb, 
 Evviva 1' Angelo, chi 1' annunzio. 
 
 Eleven stanzas of a similar nature succeed to this, all ending with 
 the same burden; and to the recitation of this hymn, also. Pins 
 IX. has annexed an indulgence of three hundred days. 
 
14 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Some time before three o'clock, which was the hour 
 fixed for the departure of the procession of the Misericoiv 
 dia from its chapel at the corner of the Via della Morte, 
 in the square of the Duomo, the streets in the neighbor- 
 hood of the Annunziata, and the piazza in front of it, 
 were filled by crowds of people desirous to see the show, 
 and to gain even a distant share in the blessing that 
 might attend the performance of the ceremony. The 
 church was already filled to overflowing, except the por- 
 tion of it which was reserved for the Brotherhood. A lit- 
 tle after three the procession began to appear, walking up 
 a pathway opened for it by soldiers. At its head were 
 several priests in their robes, one bearing a cross ; then 
 followed the brethren in their long black dresses and 
 black masks, which are so familiar to every one who has 
 been in Florence, their faces wholly concealed, except 
 where their eyes appear through narrow slits. Their 
 black hats hung upon their backs, and each man carried 
 in his hand an unlighted candle. They walked two and 
 two ; and it was only by differences in their gait, and now 
 and then by some stray lock of hair, or by some wrinkle 
 seen through the opening in the black mask, that the 
 difference of age amongst them could be discovered, 
 — while by the contrast in the character of their hands 
 something of the diversity of their callings in life might 
 be guessed at ; for this Brotherhood of Mercy includes 
 in its ranks young and old, noblemen and mechanics, — 
 and distinctions disappear beneath its black hoods. 
 
 The popular tradition in regard to the origin of the 
 Misericordia, taken from a book written in the sixteenth 
 
LA COMPAGNIA BELLA MISEEICOEDIA. 15 
 
 century, by Messer Francisco Ghislieri, a citizen of Flor- 
 ence, is as follows : — 
 
 " It was in the year of our Lord Jesus Christ, 1240. 
 At this time the city of Florence and her citizens were 
 engaged in the traffic of merchandise, or rather in deal- 
 ings in woollen cloths, which, by their excellence of fabric, 
 supplied all the cities of the world, so that two fairs were 
 held every year, on St. Simon's and St. Martin's days, at 
 each one of which were present the richest merchants of 
 Italy, who came from abroad to provide themselves with 
 all sorts of stuffs. And so great a sale was there, that 
 the least that was spent at each one of those fairs was fif- 
 teen or sixteen millions of the florins of this city. "Where- 
 fore many porters and carriers of burdens were needed 
 to carry the aforesaid cloths and wools to and from the 
 shops, the dye-houses, and wash-houses, and other places 
 needful to the making of these goods, all for the greater 
 convenience of the workmen who were engaged in the 
 forementioned manufacture. Now the greater number 
 of these porters used to assemble on the piazza of San 
 Giovanni, or of Santa Maria del Fiore, as a place as- 
 signed to them by the Republic of Florence, to await 
 there the opportunities of employment, which continually 
 occurred. On this place was a range of vaults, supposed 
 to belong to the Adimari, which stood always open, on 
 account of being subject to inundation. These cellars 
 the porters made use of for shelter, especially in the 
 winter, against the rain and the rigor of the cold, col- 
 lecting around the fire, and amusing themselves with 
 play, when they had no work to do, which, indeed, oc- 
 
16 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 curred but rarely. It happened that among the seventy 
 or eighty porters who assembled there, was one Piero di 
 Luca Borsi, a man advanced in years, who held in de- 
 vout regard the most holy name of God, and who was 
 greatly scandalized at hearing every little while the 
 Maker of Every Good abused by the blasphemies of 
 his wicked companions. He therefore resolved, as their 
 elder, to propose to them that every time any one of 
 them should dare to utter blasphemies against God, or 
 against his Most Holy Mother, he should immediately 
 without fail put a bit of copper coin into a box destined 
 to this object, in penitence for his fault, and in order ut- 
 terly to root out so pernicious an abuse and so grave a 
 sin. The proposition pleased his companions, who prom- 
 ised to adopt it, and so maintain it that it might result 
 to the greater glory of the Divine Majesty.* 
 
 " Much time having passed with this devout custom, 
 and a good sum of money having accumulated in the 
 box, it seemed well to Piero di Luca to make another 
 proposition to them, which might be of no less profit than 
 the first, since it was to serve for the benefit both of soul 
 and body. He proposed to them to make six dresses 
 
 • Old institutions appear under new conditions. The following 
 paragrapli was published in the New York Evening Post, in June, 
 1859, in the summary of news from California: — 
 
 " An ' Anti-Cursing Club ' has been formed at Grass Valley, Cal., 
 the members of which are fined twenty-five cents for every oath, 
 the money to be appropriated to some worthy purpose from time 
 to time. At the last accounts, the club had cursed enough to buy 
 a pew, and there was a balance on hand." 
 
LA OOMPAGNIA DELLA MISEEICOKDIA. 17 
 
 with masks, large enough to fit a person of common 
 height and size, and to allot one to each section of the 
 city, choosing one or more porters who should wear it 
 from week to week, and should receive from the box a 
 giulio * for each journey that they might make through 
 the city, in order to carry to such place as they might 
 wish, or to the hospitals, the sick poor, as well as those 
 who might fall from buildings, or might fall dead or faint- 
 ing, and those murdered, and those who might be found 
 in the streets in any condition that needed human aid. 
 The wise proposition and good counsel of Piero pleased 
 all his companions, who swore carefully to observe, and 
 with all diligence and charity to maintain this project. 
 And it was also agreed by them to do so without receiv- 
 ing the pay proposed ; for the reward of charity is to be 
 required in the other life, from the hands of God, who 
 recompenses each man justly. Thus for the space of 
 many years they continued to engage in this exercise of 
 mercy, with such applause from the citizens, that, had 
 they wished to accept great sums of money, which were 
 offered to them, they might have gained as much as three 
 givM each time they went out, if their excellent leader, 
 Piero, had not refused them, in the hope of winning an 
 eternal blessing. 
 
 " At this time the above-named Piero passed to the 
 other life, and another of them was moved by a divin* 
 inspiration to provide a picture of Christ Dead, at whose 
 feet he placed a little box, with an inscription upon it, 
 
 * A small silver coin. 
 2 
 
18 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 which said, ' Give alms for the poor, sick, and needy 
 of the city,' and to put this, with the picture of Christ 
 Dead, near to the church of San Giovanni,* on the day 
 of Pardon, which falls on the 13th of January. His 
 thought was to make use of the money in buying some 
 chambers for a chapel for the use of the Company, that 
 they might there make prayers, and discourse of the 
 a£Fairs pertaining to this pious exercise of mercy. His 
 good thought was finally approved by all, and so put 
 in practice, that on that day so many devout people 
 united in giving alms, that the little box was not large 
 enough to hold all the money that was offered by the 
 faithful at the feet of the Saviour for the poor and 
 distressed ; so that they found about five hundred flor- 
 ins, which were enough to buy some chambers above 
 the vaults that have been spoken of, and to arrange them 
 for the use of the Company." 
 
 This quaint tradition, which even in its form bears 
 the mark of age, may or may not contain the true ac- 
 count of the beginning of the Misericordia. It is well 
 to believe a story which reflects so truly the national 
 pride of the Florentines, representing the goods of their 
 city as the best, her fairs as the most frequented, and her 
 very porters as the worthiest of the time, — and which 
 gives such a vivid illustration of the power of pictures, 
 when men painted them from their hearts, and the 
 figure of the Saviour stood for the real image of Him 
 
 * Dante's " D mio bel San Giovanni," now the Baptistery of Flor- 
 ence, with the bronze gates by Andrea Pisano and Ghiberti. 
 
LA COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICOEDIA. 19 
 
 who died on the Cross. Those , were the days when 
 Florence was capable of the noblest things, — the days 
 just before Dante's time, just before Giotto began to 
 build his Campanile. What is certain in regard to the 
 Company is, that its earliest records; are lost, but that in 
 1361 a new body of statutes was adopted for its govern- 
 ment, and that still earlier, in 1348, during the terrible 
 plague, made famous by Boccaccio, which in the course 
 of six months carried off more than half the population 
 of the city, that is, more than fifty thousand out of its 
 ninety thousand inhabitants, this brotherhood had so dis- 
 tinguished themselves by their self-devotion and their 
 fidelity to duty in the season of hardest trial, and had 
 so gained the attachment of their fellow-citizens, that 
 their treasury was enriched by legacies amounting to 
 thirty-five thousand golden florins, a sum equal to at 
 least three hundred thousand dollars at the present day. 
 
 From this time the sphere of their charities went on 
 continually enlarging. They no longer took charge of 
 the sick and the dead alone, but large sums were an- 
 nually set apart for clothing the naked, liberating pris- 
 oners, and giving dowries to poor maidens. They also 
 took charge of children who were abandoned by their 
 parents, and it would appear from some of the early 
 records that they paid for the bringing up of the chil- 
 dren in different trades. The Florentine statutes, towards 
 the end of the fourteenth century, order that all wander- 
 ing and lost children should ' be carried to the House of 
 the Misericordia ; and as a proof of the estimation in 
 which the Company was held, it is mentioned that in 1365 
 
20 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 the monks of Camaldoli petitioned that the great chapel 
 of the new church they were building in Florence might 
 receive its title from the Misericordia, and that the church 
 might be one of those where once a year, on the day of 
 Santa Lucia, the Company caused the Mass of the Aban- 
 doned to be celebrated. * 
 
 In 1363, a new pestilence gave occasion for fresh dis- 
 plays of the good works of the Brotherhood and the 
 gratitude of the people. A curious story remains to 
 show the uprightness of the spirit by which the Company 
 was ruled. It appears that in those days, when the 
 wicked believed that by a pious legacy they might gain 
 absolution for their crimes, one Neri Boscoli, a banker, 
 who had passed many years in Naples, made the Miseri- 
 cordia the heir to his great property, which report said 
 had been gained by evil usury. The Company, fearing 
 lest it might become, as it were, the accomplice and the 
 heir of wickedness, if it should receive ill-gained money, 
 called to their council the most famous theologians of the 
 city, and did not accept the legacy until it was determin- 
 ed, in a solemn and extraordinary assembly, that it might 
 
 * The Mass of the Abandoned is a mass said for the souls of those 
 who, from poverty or other cause, have been unable to provide for the 
 masses to be said for their repose after death, or have left no friends 
 by whom this pious charge may be undertaken, and, thus " aban- 
 doned," need the aid of charity. Dante affords many illustrations of 
 this doctrine of the Church:* for example: — 
 
 " lo fui di Montefeltro, i* son Buonconte : 
 Giovanna o altri mm ha di me cwa, 
 Perch' io vo tra costor con bassa fronte." 
 
 Purg. V. 88. 
 
LA OOMPAGNIA BELLA MISEEICORDIA. 21 
 
 be received for use in works of charity, because thus 
 that could be returned to the poor which had been un- 
 justly taken from them, — with the additional provision, 
 that restitution should be made to all who could prove 
 that they had suffered from the usury of which this lega- 
 cy was the result. 
 
 During the unhappy period when Cosmo de' Medici 
 was ruling and corrupting Florence, the Misericordia, of 
 which he was jealous, as a body possessing too much 
 power over the affections of the citizens, and as likely to 
 act by. itself too independently, was gradually deprived 
 of its ancient statutes, and forced to accept essential 
 changes of organization. By degrees it lost its old char- 
 acter, its funds were misused in lavish profusion and 
 worthless bounties, the patrimony of the poor became 
 the plunder of the rich, and only the memory of the good 
 name of the Company remained. But, sixteen years 
 after the death of Cosmo, in 1480, an incident occurred 
 which revived the half-extinguished flame of charity, and 
 gave new existence to the Brotherhood. It appears that 
 a very poor man died, and no one came to bury him. 
 Then one who lived in the same house took the body 
 upon his shoulders, and carried it to the Palace of the 
 Signoria.* The Gonfalonier, at the sight of this specta- 
 cle, said, struck with wonder, " What is this ? " " Be- 
 hold," replied the man, " the result of the neglect of the 
 "laws, and of good customs !" And leaving the corpse at 
 the feet of the magistrate, he went away. This circum- 
 
 . * Now called the Palazzo Veoohlo. 
 
22 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Stance caused a great commotion among the people. 
 They recalled the good old times, when, if the poor man 
 had no friends to bury him decently, the Misericordia 
 took charge of his funeral, and bore him to the grave 
 with prayers and all the offices of religion. They re- 
 membered and repeated the good deeds of the Brother- 
 hood in tending the sick and providing for the needy, 
 and they lamented that it no longer existed. Not long 
 after this, it was determined to reconstitute the Society, 
 and in 1489 new statutes were established, and the 
 Misericordia once more began its unending work. The 
 number of the brothers was fixed at seventy-two, thirty 
 priests and forty-two laymen ; and this number was 
 chosen, " inasmuch as our Lord Jesus Christ, besides 
 his apostles, instituted and ordained seventy-two disciples, 
 who were to go through the world with charity^ preach- 
 ing and scattering the seed of his doctrine ; so we wish 
 that the aforesaid number of our fraternity and company, 
 seventy-two, should go through our land of Florence, ex- 
 ercising the works of mercy and charity, and especially 
 in regard to the burying of the poor and wretched dead,* 
 without any pay or reward, but only for the love of 
 Jesus Christ, who, through love of us, underwent his 
 death and passion." 
 
 The Company was not reorganized too soon. In 1495 
 the plague once more appeared in Florence, again in 
 
 * In respect to this particular injunction in regard to the burying 
 of the poor, the importance attached by the Roman Church to the 
 foueral rites is to be remembered. 
 
LA COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICOEDIA. 23 
 
 1498, and still again in 1509. In all these years, the 
 Misericordia discharged its part with its ancient fidelity 
 and courage, and added to its other cares that of a hospi- 
 tal, in which the brothers took charge of the sick. Dur- 
 ing the last dark years in which Florence retained even 
 the name of a republic, from 1520 to 1530, pestilential 
 diseases seem to have broken out from year to year, and 
 to have kept pace with civU discord and political calami- 
 ties. But the bitterness of party rage found no place 
 under the dark gowns of the Misericordia, and political 
 enmities never interfered with the discharge of the offices 
 of charity. The Company survived the fall of the city, 
 and from that time, for the last three hundred years, has 
 pursued its unintermitting course of benevolence, — some- 
 times called on for special exertion, never without duties, 
 ready for all seasons of trial, never failing, never disap- 
 pointing the confidence reposed in it. 
 
 The present organization of the Misericordia is as 
 follows : — There are seventy-two chiefs of the watch, 
 of whom ten are dignitaries of the Church, fourteen 
 noble laymen, called freemen, twenty priests, not digni- 
 taries, and twenty-eight laymen, not noble, called wear- 
 ers of aprons, or artisans ; and these preside, four every 
 day, over the arrangement and good order of the expe- 
 ditions to be made through fhe city. In addition to these, 
 who form the body of the Company, there are numerous 
 novices and volunteers enrolled under different titles ; so 
 that the whole number of the members now amounts to 
 1440, a number sufficient to meet all the usual demands 
 upon the Society. The members take their turns of ser- 
 
24 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 vice in a regular succession of days ; and whenever they 
 are needed, they are called to assemble at the house of the 
 Society by a bell, whose tolling may be heard over all the 
 city. A day scarcely ever passes without its solemn 
 summons being sounded. The members on duty collect 
 at their place of meeting, and, putting on their black 
 gowns and masks, depart together, generally bearing upon 
 their shoulders a bier hung also with black. As they 
 pass along the streets, every one who meets them lifts 
 his hat, and the soldiers on guard present arms in token 
 of honor. Having accomplished their duty, they return 
 to their chapel, and, in entering it, each says to the one 
 at his side, " May God give you your reward ! " Then, 
 after saying the Lord's Prayer, they take off their dis- 
 guise, and return to their usual occupations. 
 
 In the year that is just going out, Florence has been 
 exposed to great trial, and the Misericordia has given 
 fresh proofs of its devotion, and of the value of its pious 
 services. The cholera broke out early in the summer. 
 At the commencement of the epidemic, the Company 
 called together its members with the accustomed sound 
 of its bell. But the tolling became so frequent that it 
 increased the alarm which the d.isease created. Then 
 the members assembled in numbers at their chapel, and 
 stood waiting in readiness for the calls, which were not 
 long delayed. On one day seventy-seven biers were 
 counted, borne by them through the city. The number 
 of members at last became too small for the increasing 
 need, and a hundred temporary assistants were added. 
 There was no pause in their indefatigable labors. 
 
LA COMPAGNIA DELLA MISEBICOEDIA. 25 
 
 "With the danger their courage increased," says the 
 account from which a great part of the preceding 
 narrative has been taken ; * " and during this period, 
 the Company of the Miaericordia showed itself not only 
 admirable, but sublime." 
 
 It was to render thanks for the ceasing of the epidemic 
 that the Brotherhood went in procession to-day to the 
 Church of the Annunziata. Remembering the long se- 
 ries of years, stretching back from century to century, 
 through which this society has carried on its unbroken 
 course of benevolence, recalling the principles upon which 
 it was founded, seeing in it the visible token of the desire 
 of men to conform themselves to the example of Christ, 
 beholding in its mask the sign of that humility which 
 desires not to have its good deeds known of men, it 
 was impossible to stand by unmoved, as the procession 
 passed ; and one could not but feel a thrill of sympa- 
 thetic pleasure in the pride with which poor Florence 
 regards these sons of hers, who do so much to keep up 
 one of the best traditions of her Past. 
 
 * La Campagnia della Misericordia di Firenze. Oenni Storioi di 
 Celestino Bianchi. Firenze, 1855. 
 
 See also Passerini, Storia degli StabUimerUi di Beneficema e d' Is- 
 tnmone elementare graluita della Oiita di Firenze. 1853. 
 
ROME. 
 
EOME. 
 
 Bomb, 24th December, 1865. 
 Stendhal begins the Eoman entries in his brilliant 
 " Promenades dans Rome '' with the following words : 
 " C'est pour la sixieme fois que j'entre dans la viUe 
 etemeUe, et pourtant mon coeur est profondeSment agit^. 
 C'est un usage immemorial parmi les gens affect6s d'etre 
 ^mu en arrivant d Rome, et j'ai presque honte de ce que 
 je viens d'dcrire." 
 
 9th January, 1866. 
 
 Three days ago, the old Prince Corsini died, and to- 
 day his body has been lying in state in the great palace 
 of his family. It was in this palace that Christina, Queen 
 of Sweden and daughter of Gustavus Adolphus, died. 
 
 To-day the doors have been open, and every one who 
 desired has been admitted to see the state apartments 
 and the dead Prince. All sorts of persons have been 
 going up the magnificent double flight of stairs, — ladies 
 and gentlemen, poor women with their babies in their 
 arms, priests, soldiers, ragged workmen, boys and girls, 
 and strangers of all kinds. There were no signs of 
 
30 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 mourning about the house, but in the first great saloon 
 sat two men in black gowns, busily employed in writing, 
 as if making inventories ; and in each of the next two 
 rooms were two priests in their showy robes, performing 
 separate masses, while many people knelt on the floors, 
 and others streamed through to the apartment in which 
 the corpse was laid out. Here, on a black and yellow 
 carpet, in the middle of the floor, surrounded by benches 
 which were covered with a black cloth on which was a 
 faded yellow pattern of a skeleton with a scythe, lay the 
 body of the old man. He was eighty-nine years old ; but 
 here was nothing of the dignity of age, or the repose of 
 death. The corpse was dressed in full court-costume, — in 
 a bright-blue coat, with gold laces and orders upon the 
 breast, white silk stockings, and varnished pumps. It had 
 on a wig, and its lips and cheeks were rouged. At its feet 
 and at its head was a candle burning ; two hired mourners 
 sat at each side, and two soldiers kept the crowd from 
 pressing too near or lingering too long. The room, which 
 was not darkened, was hung with damask of purple and 
 gold, and the high ceiling was painted with gay frescoes of 
 some story of the gods. It was a scene fit for the grave- 
 digger's grim jokes and Hamlet's sad philosophy. 
 
 Many years ago, Prince Corsini held the office of Sen- 
 ator of Rome, and at the time of his election the lions 
 of the Capitol and the Barberini Triton spouted wine 
 instead of water, as when Rienzi was made Tribune ; but 
 the Prince's name will hardly be remembered by another 
 generation, unless it be by the readers of Lander's " Im- 
 aginary Conversations." 
 
ROME. 31 
 
 The palace has that air of incomplete magnificence 
 and partial neglect which belongs to so many of. the pal- 
 aces of Rome, and of the South. There are statues in 
 •the halls, but the tiled floors are coarse and damp, the 
 large windows are filled with rattling and dim glass. 
 Painted wooden columns are set up opposite marble ones. 
 The beautiful garden, stretching behind the palace toward 
 the Janiculum, has been left to decay. Its iron gate is 
 rusted, its regular walks overgrown with mould and green 
 moss. Its alleys, arched over with myrtles, are weedy 
 and dark and damp. Everything wears a look of dilap- 
 idation, and the sentiment of the place is that belonging 
 to declining splendor and neglected beauty. 
 
 In the evening, a showy funeral procession, with car- 
 riages, and long trains of priests with candles and chant- 
 ing, accompanied the body of the Prince to the church of 
 St. John Lateran, where, in the gorgeous family chapel, 
 it was once more laid in state, as a show for indifierent 
 spectators. His servants for the last time rouged the 
 wrinkled cheeks, and arranged the dyed moustaches, and 
 then left the body to the care of the priests, who sat 
 drowsily reading their services over it. The chapel 
 itself was not brilliantly lighted, though it appeared so 
 by contrast with the rest of the church. A few candles 
 were burning at the high altar, but their rsiys were soon 
 scattered in the immense spaces of the nave and aisles. 
 Now and then, some attenda,nt, with a candle in his hand, 
 passed across, — his light making the surrounding dark- 
 ness darker, and the distance more obscure. In this 
 dimness, the vastness of the church became far more 
 
32 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 impressive than in the daylight. The fluttering statues 
 in the piers lost their air of dressiness and disquiet, and 
 looked down from their niches like the peaceful shades 
 of Saints and Apostles. 
 
 13th January, 1856, Sunday. 
 The annual festival called the Festa delle Lingue has 
 taken place at the Propaganda to-day. This college was 
 founded by Pope Gregory XV., in 1622, under the im- 
 pulse, as it seems, of a sincere Christian spirit. In his 
 bull relating to the institution he said : " Christ's charge 
 to the successors of Peter is, ' Feed my lambs.' But 
 how many strayed sheep still remain, — sheep who have 
 never known the fold of Christ, or who have wandered 
 away from it ! " And it was to accomplish this charge, 
 so far as lay within his power, that the Pope established 
 a college into which students from distant infidel or here- 
 tic countries were to be received, and whence, having 
 been instructed in the doctrines of the Church, they were 
 to go out as missionaries to their native lands. Gregory 
 died before his institution had received its full develop- 
 ment ; but it was warmly supported by his successor. 
 Urban VIII., from whom it took its name of the CoUegio 
 Urbano de Propaganda Fide ; and from that time until 
 the present it has flourished under the protection of suc- 
 cessive popes. During the past year, one hundred and 
 thirty-three pupils, from every quarter of the world, have 
 received instruction within its walls. Italian is made the 
 common language of communication and instruction, but 
 each of the pupils is required to keep up his acquaintance 
 
ROME. 33 
 
 with his native tongue, that he may preserve the power to 
 address his own countrymen. 
 
 Once a year, on the octave of the Epiphany, an ex- 
 hibition is held, at which the pupils recite compositions 
 upon the same subject, but each in a different language. 
 It is always an occasion of interest, and to-day the little 
 chapel of the Propaganda, which is in the large and ugly 
 brown building forming one end of the Piazza di Spagna, 
 where the College has its seat, was crowded by an audi- 
 ence which seemed composed of persons of almost as 
 many nations as were represented by the pupils. The 
 chapel is badly arranged and badly lighted. It is hung 
 with red and yellow curtains, and pervaded, if one may 
 use the expression, by an absence of simplicity and good 
 taste. The pupils were placed upon a platform at its 
 ^nd. Immediately in front sat two or three cardinals 
 and the instructors, while all the rest of the room was 
 filled by the spectators, amongst whom a few of the 
 Swiss guard were stationed to keep the passage-ways 
 from being choked up. The services were commenced 
 without any special form and with no ceremony. One 
 of the pupils delivered a short prologue in Italian, from 
 which it appeared that the subject which had been chosen 
 for the compositions of to-day was the miraculous escape 
 from injury of the Pope and many other distinguished 
 ecclesiastics, together with a portion of the students of 
 the Propaganda, in the giving way of the floor of a room 
 in the convent of Sant' Agnese fuori le Mura, in which 
 they were assembled. The accident took place last April. 
 The Pope had gone out in the morning to visit the re- 
 
34 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 cently discovered church of Sant' Alessandro, and on his 
 return had stopped at the unoccupied convent of Sant' 
 Agnese. Here there was a considerable assemblage of 
 persons, including those who had accompanied him, and 
 others who here joined his suite. The floor of the room 
 in the second story in which they were collected suddenly 
 gave way. Most of the company fell with the floor ; the 
 Pope was overthrown, but not precipitated to the lower 
 story. Several persons were more or less injured ; there 
 was a scene of great confusion, but no one was killed or 
 irrecoverably hurt. In the performance of this after- 
 noon, the escape of the Pope, and the comparatively 
 slight harm caused by the accident, were ascribed to the 
 miraculous interposition of the Virgin, and, in addition to 
 her favor, to the good oflBces of the three holy Magi, who 
 are regarded as the special patrons of the Propaganda. 
 Their relation to this institution arises from the belief 
 that the visit of the three kings to the manger, and their 
 adoration of the Infant Saviour, were typical of the final 
 subjection of all heathen nations to the throne of Christ. 
 The legend of the Church represents them as returning 
 from Bethlehem to their own distant lands as the 
 first missionaries of the gospel of Christ, and their 
 story has from very early times been considered as 
 significant of the calling of the Gentiles. They are, 
 therefore, regarded as the patron saints of missionary 
 enterprise. 
 
 The prologue in Italian was followed by a series of 
 performances in the Eastern languages, and, for the ben- 
 efit of those who understood only the common tongues, a 
 
ROME. 35 
 
 programme in Italian was distributed which contained an 
 abstract of the different parts. The first was in Hebrew, 
 upon the dehght of Satan at the danger of the Pope and 
 of the pupils. The next was in Chaldee, a dialogue be- 
 tween two young men from Mesopotamia ; and this was 
 followed by parts in Syriac, Armenian, Arabic, Chinese, 
 Georgian, Bengalee, and so on, each spoken, with very 
 few exceptions, by young men to whom these languages 
 were their native tongues. The Persian, for instance, 
 was delivered by Signer Luigi Sciauriz, of Mardin in 
 Mesopotamia, and the Koptic by Angelo Kabis, of Ach- 
 min in Egypt ; Mardin and Achmin being places which 
 it is hard to beheve have as actual a reality as those 
 which we hear of every day, and in the midst of which 
 we live. In the second portion of the exhibition, the 
 portion that was made up of parts in the Western 
 tongues, occurred some more familiar names. For in- 
 stance, a boy named Thomas Pinckney, from Walter- 
 borough, TJ. S., took a share in an ItaUan dialogue, 
 and Thomas Beeker, of Pittsburg, delivered an animated 
 poem in Irish. Most of the parts were in verse ; but it 
 would have been dull work to listen to them, had they all 
 been in one language. In the sounds of thirty-seven differ- 
 ent languages it was easy to find entertainment ; and in the 
 sight of young men from so many countries, united in one 
 common object and mode of life, there was interest enough 
 to overbalance their individual dulness. It would have 
 been hard to find a subject less suited for the average of 
 poetic and oratorio power than the one chosen for this 
 display ; and it was a curious specimen of bad taste and 
 
36 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 bad judgment that such a topic should have been selected 
 for a commemoration that might be made so striking by a 
 proper choice. On one occasion, not many years since, 
 the subject given out was " The Tower of Babel," or the 
 confusion of tongues. A more appropriate topic could 
 hardly have been found. 
 
 January 20th, 18S6. 
 The Festa of Sant' Antonio commenced three days 
 ago, at his little church just beyond Santa Maria Mag- 
 giore, and will continue for two or three days longer. It 
 is the occasion of one of the most curious customs of the 
 Church, — the blessing of the animals. Sunday is gen- 
 erally the day upon which the ceremony may be seen to 
 most advantage, for then the country people have leisure 
 to come into the city with their horses and other creatures 
 to get the blessing of the priest ; but to-day has been 
 gray and wet from the beginning, so as to prevent as 
 large an attendance as usual. This afternoon, a good 
 many people were in the church, looking at the coarse 
 frescoes which represent the temptations of the Saint, and 
 there was something of a crowd, chiefly made up of boys 
 and beggars, about the doors. At the side door, just out 
 of the rain, stood a good-natured, dirty-looking priest, with 
 & brush in his hand and an earthen jug full of water at 
 his side, who, when a carriage or a wagon drove up or 
 passed by, shook his brush, dipped in the holy water, at 
 the horses, and muttered some words of benediction. A 
 good many of the country carts came along and stopped 
 at the door ; their drivers gave the priest a little fee for 
 shaking his brush, and then went on. Many of the car- 
 
ROME. 37 
 
 riages came, apparently, to bring persons who wanted to 
 see the show, if by chance there were any ; but others 
 were brought up with the express purpose of getting a 
 blessing for the horses, which was paid for according to 
 the wealth of the owner, or perhaps according to his 
 superstition or his love of display. It is a rule here, that 
 those blessings which we are accustomed to consider the 
 free gifts of Grod must be paid for in some way, either in 
 hard money or in harder penance. Heaven is not given 
 away in Bome. The Pope himself, the cardinals, and 
 the nobles,*all send their horses, during the course of the 
 feast, to be blessed. Torlonia sends his best carriage 
 drawn by eighteen horses. The coachmen are in their 
 best liveries, and the footmen splendid in powder and 
 lace. It is said he pays a thousand dollars for the 
 benediction. 
 
 Beside the wagons and carriages that came this after- 
 noon, (the air was so gray and thick that one could not 
 see the Alban Hills,) there were a good many horses and 
 donkeys ridden up one by one, or sometimes two or three 
 together. Some of them had ribbons braided in their 
 tails and manes, and hanging about them in streamers, 
 and their riders looked as fine as the horses ; while others 
 were such rough, uncared-for, bare-boned, worn-looking 
 creatures, that one could not but wish that the blessing 
 would turn into a good supper and shelter for them. 
 This odd custom is a very old one, and strikingly illus- 
 trative of the character of many of the observances cher- 
 ished by the Church in Italy, as means by which the 
 superstition of the poor may be turned to the benefit of 
 
38 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 the priests. I say the superstition of the poor, though 
 Torionia's thousand dollars may outweigh all the pence 
 of the peasants ; for such a custom can last only while it 
 is founded on the popular belief. If the poor should 
 learn to distrust St. Anthony, and neglect to send their 
 scrubby donkeys for his blessing, the princes would not 
 be long in following their example. But in these States 
 of the Church the progress of intelligence is stopped, and 
 a spiritual police, more watchful than any municipal one, 
 takes good care that it shall not, by force or by stealth, 
 break through the barriers imposed upon it. 
 
 At a little distance from the church was a thick crowd 
 of children, who were making such a noise that I went to 
 see what it was about. I found they were surrounding a 
 man who was making and selling what looked like mo- 
 lasses candy. He could not sell it fast enough for his 
 customers, who squeezed him and shouted at him without 
 mercy. He had a pot boiling over a fire of small sticks, 
 and when his supply of the ready-made article was 
 fairly exhausted, he poured out the contents of his pot 
 (a mixture of honey and sugar) upon a white marble 
 slab which he had upon a chair at his side, and after it 
 had sufiiciently cooled, he began to pull it in the same 
 way in which molasses candy was pulled when we were 
 young. It quickly began to change from black to white, 
 and at the same time the uproar, which had somewhat 
 abated while the little children were watching the pro- 
 gress of the manufacture, began with redoubled energy. 
 The smallest boys crept between his legs and stuck up 
 their eager heads, with a half-Saiocco in their hands, in 
 
ROME. 39 
 
 the hope of getting a chance at one of the pieces of a fin- 
 ger's length that he broke off from the long stringy mass. 
 Little girls carrying babies, big boys who with a whole 
 haioeeo could buy two pieces, others who had no money 
 and could only look at what they wanted to eat, all 
 crowded up, shouting and laughing. Children are alike 
 the world over, but these were more charming than a 
 common crowd of children, for every one was full of ex- 
 citement, which yet was not so intense as to threaten any 
 sad revulsion of feeling. Their eyes were glittering, 
 their voices raised to the highest point, their hands fuller 
 of eagerness than of money ; but as one by one got his 
 piece, there was such absolute sweetness in their mouths, 
 such a cessation in their shouting, and such a perfect con- 
 tent over their dirty, happy, pretty faces, that, in seeing 
 them, the bystanders had almost as much satisfaction as 
 the children themselves. It was by far the best part of 
 the show of the blessing of the horses. 
 
 A celebration has been going on for two or three days 
 past at the church of Sant' Andrea delle Fratte, — one 
 of the oddest and most irrational of Borromini's fantastic 
 erections, — in commemoration of the miraculous conver- 
 sion of a Jew that took place here in 1842. The occur- 
 rence is remarkable as being one of the latest and best 
 authenticated miracles of the Roman Church, and it 
 affords an illustration of the origin and adoption of 
 many of those miracles with which the annals of the 
 Church have been full, since the apostolic days. I 
 bought the authorized narrative at the church-door 
 
40 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 this afternoon, and this is the account* which it con- 
 tains : — 
 
 " In January, 1842, a young and wealthy Jew of Stras- 
 bourg, named Alfonso Maria Ratisbonne, came to Rome 
 on a journey of pleasure. Here he met an old friend of 
 his, the Baron de Bussierre, who was residing in Rome, 
 and who accompanied him in many of his visits to the 
 places which every stranger desires to see. The Baron, 
 being a good Christian, was grieved to find his friend 
 fixed in his belief as a Jew, and frequently urged upon 
 him the arguments in favor of Christianity. One day he 
 begged him to accept a medal with the effigy of Our 
 Lady the Queen of the Angels upon it. Ratisbonne, 
 more to satisfy his friend than to profess the least venera- 
 tion for the Madonna, with a smile hung this miraculous 
 medal about his neck. The Baron, rejoiced at his suc- 
 cess, did not delay to address daily the most fervent 
 prayers to the Most High for the conversion of his friend, 
 and directed his two young daughters to recite every 
 evening some Ave Marias for the conversion of Alfonso. 
 Moreover, he went to the Count Laferronays, his confi- 
 dant, who was most devoted and attached to the Catholic 
 religion, and begged him also, with the same object, to 
 address fervent prayers to the Most High, and to the 
 Great Mother, the Most Holy Mary. A few days after- 
 wards. Count Laferronays suddenly died. On the 20th 
 of January, Bussierre met Ratisbonne, who told him that 
 he was about to leave the city, his aflfairs not permitting 
 him to make a longer stay. The Baron, regretting to 
 hear this, begged him to accompany him to the church 
 
ROME. 41 
 
 of Sant' Andrea delle Fratte, whither he was about to go 
 to make some arrangements with one of the friars for the 
 Count's funeral. Having arrived there, he left Katisbonne 
 in the church, while he went for a few minutes into one 
 of the adjoining apartments. Ratisbonne was looking at 
 the objects of interest, and observing the ceremonies of 
 the funeral of a noble lady, when all of a sudden the 
 church disappeared and a dazzling light shone round 
 about him. He was transported, without knowing how, 
 before the altar of Saint Michael, where the light ceased, 
 and, raising his eyes, he saw upon this very altar the Most 
 Holy Mary, beautiful and shining, who with her hand 
 made a sign to him to kneel down, and he, obeying, knelt. 
 Bussierre, at this moment returning, saw his friend upon 
 his knees and weeping. He asked him what was the 
 matter, but Katisbonne did not reply. Then Bussierre 
 went to the College of the Propaganda, which stands just 
 opposite the church, to beg some of the Jesuit Fathers to 
 come with him and speak with Katisbonne. They hast- 
 ened back, and Ratisbonne, then drawing the medal from 
 his breast, said, ' I have seen her ! I have seen her ! ' and 
 then proceeded to give an account of the appearance of 
 the Virgin, ending with the declaration of his desire to 
 be baptized. And go, on the 31st of the month, he was 
 baptized by the Cardinal Patrizi, and received the sacra- 
 ments of Regeneration, of Confirmation, and of the Most 
 Holy Communion, in the presence of a great crowd of 
 people. Shortly after, he entered the order of the Jesuits 
 in France, and is still living." 
 
 This is the story, whose facts may, it seems to me, be 
 
42 TKAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 fully accepted and believed, without regarding them as 
 miraculous. The excitement, which no one is exempt 
 from, in first visiting Eome, — the knowledge that his 
 conversion was an object of desire to his friend, and the 
 consequent dwelling of his own mind upon the subject, — 
 the impression made upon him by the ardent and imag- 
 inative fervor of Bussierre, — the superstitious feeling 
 very naturally produced in a weak mind by the wearing 
 of an image of the Virgin, — were enough, even if we 
 exclude the operation of other very probable influences, 
 such as fatigue, and the confusion of ideas to which one 
 not versed in the groundwork of his own faith is exposed 
 when surrounded by the exhibitions of the prevalence and 
 power of another, — were enough to produce in Ratis- 
 bonne a condition of the nervous system in which visions 
 are no longer improbable, and credulity accepts them as 
 miraculous realities. Explanations of this sort seem to 
 be applicable to many of the stories of the Saints. I see 
 no reason to distrust their visions, and can easily believe 
 that it was only the coarser conceptions of his followers 
 that changed St. Francis's vision of the Saviour, and his 
 imaginative reception of the stigmata, into the five actual 
 and visible wounds. Multitudes of reported miracles 
 are nothing more than misunderstood natural events, and 
 many a good man has believed in miracles which were 
 only the result of the morbid action of his own mind. 
 Over the altar on which the Virgin appeared to Ratis- 
 bonne, there now hangs a picture of the Madonna as she 
 looked to him. The chapel has been incrusted with the 
 most precious marbles, and many votive offerings are 
 
EOME. 43 
 
 hanging upon its walls.- A miraculous image or picture 
 is an immense advantage to a church ; and Sant' Andrea 
 delle Fratte, which was formerly ratlier poor and de- 
 serted, is now one of the most frequented and popular 
 churches in this part of the city. 
 
 There is a triduo every year in honor of the appear- 
 ance of the Virgin ; and to-day, the anniversary of the 
 miracle, services of great pomp have been going on from 
 morning till evening. This afternoon a Dominican friar 
 delivered an energetic sermon to a crowded and devout 
 audience. It was an entertaining and picturesque com- 
 position. He described the rich and scornful Jew, visit- 
 ing one after another of the holy places in Eome to scoff 
 at them, laughing at the superstitions of his friends, and 
 taking pride in the power of his own intellect and the 
 antiquity of his faith ; when suddenly, by the blessed in- 
 terposition of the Most Holy Mother of God, all was 
 changed. Then followed a long comparison of the con- - 
 version of Ratisbonne with that of St. Paul ; and the ser- 
 mon wound up with an address to the picture of the 
 Virgin, appealing to her to protect her faithful and in- 
 crease their number. During this invocation, the audi- 
 ence all turned toward the chapel of the miracle, and 
 knelt. While the sermon was going on, the candles about 
 the church had been lighted up, and the high altar 
 shone with the hundreds that were arranged upon it. 
 Then came some operatic sacred music ; and finally a 
 benediction, pronounced by a cardinal. 
 
44 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 January 27th, 18B6, Sunday. 
 
 A girl took the veil this morning at the church of' 
 Santa Cecilia, and entered the convent of Benedictine 
 nuns. 
 
 Any one who desires to retain his imaginations of what 
 this solemn and affecting scene might be should not go 
 to witness the ceremony. I did not know this, and there- 
 fore went to the church to see it. In front of the bcddac- 
 ehino a temporary altar had been erected, and rows of 
 chairs extended from this down the nave, leaving an open 
 space in the centre. The church was gradually fiUed by 
 spectators, who presented the strange variety usually 
 found in the Eoman churches on occasion of any peculiar 
 solemnity. A large portion of them were foreigners 
 attracted by mere curiosity, looking at the scene as at a 
 show, and giving to the place the air of a theatre. There 
 were many beggars and poor children, and a few Romans 
 of the better classes. The seats in front were reserved 
 for the friends of the girl who was about to leave them, 
 and to enter those doors which open only to admit the 
 living and to dismiss the dead. After waiting for some 
 time, the cardinal who was to officiate — Cardinal Brunelli 
 — entered with a small train of attendants, and took his 
 seat in front of the altar. Very soon afterwards the 
 novice came in, dressed in a ball costume, of white satin 
 and laces, and with diamonds in her hair, followed by a 
 lady also in fiill dress, and by two little girls in white, 
 with wreaths of artificial flowers on their heads, and with 
 wings of painted feathers fastened by silver buckles 
 upon their shoulders. The novice knelt at the cardinal's 
 
ROME. 45 
 
 feet, repeated some few words, and then took a seat oppo- 
 site a temporary pulpit, into which a priest ascended to 
 deliver a sermon. It was a discourse upon the dove that 
 could find no rest for her foot upon the face of the earth 
 and sought for shelter within the ark. One would have 
 thought that such a text, at such a time, could not but 
 give occasion to words that would touch the heart ; but 
 the priest was a dry old man, with a husky and bi'oken 
 voice, and he proceeded as if all feeling had left his soul 
 long ago. He sat in the pulpit, and made up his sermon 
 of the emptiest commonplaces regarding the dangers and 
 miseries of the world, and the poorest compliments to 
 those who chose to quit it, and, by withdrawing them- 
 selves from its dftties, to avoid its perils. There was not 
 one word of earnest exhortation, of sincere joy, or of re- 
 ligious counsel. The friends of the girl were utterly 
 unmoved through the whole ; she herself sat with little 
 expression of feeling ; and the foreign spectators seemed 
 to care only that the sermon should be finished quickly. 
 When the priest had done, the girl rose and again knelt 
 before the cardinal. After a few words, he raised her up, 
 and they proceeded down the church to the side door, 
 through which she entered into the convent. WhUe they 
 were going down the nave, a general rush took place 
 among the ladies t6 get standing-places upon a platform 
 erected in front of the grating, at which the remainder 
 of the ceremony was to take place. It was an unseemly 
 and indecorous scene. A few Swiss guards, in their har- 
 lequin dresses, endeavored vainly to preserve some order. 
 Men and women crowded and pushed each other, with no 
 
46 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 regard to the sanctity of the place, the solemnity of the 
 occasion, or the rights of those most interested. Mean- 
 while the cardinal came back, a way being with difficulty 
 made for him through the crowd, and took his seat at the 
 grating. In a moment the novice appeared behind it, 
 accompanied by nuns in their dresses of black and white. 
 The crowd was so restless that at first it was diificult to 
 catch the words of the service. Behind the grate, in the 
 dimness of the chapel in which the nuns stood, one could 
 see that the diamonds and laces were being taken from 
 her who no longer was to have use for them. Her long 
 hair was cut oflF. The veil, a piece of white cloth, was 
 put upon her head, falling down behind and at each side. 
 Prayers were chanted in the nasal, Singsong way in 
 which prayers are said here, vows were made, the choir 
 sung, the cardinal gave his blessing, the nuns flitted to 
 and fro behind the grate, and the show and the service 
 were over. The cardinal, on his way out of the church, 
 stopped at the high altar to be disrobed, his lackeys in 
 their red-lined blue coats took snuff together, and he then 
 went out to the hall at the side of the convent, where the 
 new-made nun was to receive the congratulations of her 
 friends, and at whose door the crowd were already once 
 more jamming each other. An old man distributed two 
 printed sets of verses, copies of which had been posted at 
 the door of the church before the service. Each con- 
 tained three sonnets, "Upon occasion of the honorable 
 and pious Roman maiden, Annun^iata Maria Anna 
 Sforza, on Sexagesima Sunday, the 27th of January, 
 1856, assuming the religious dress of the Holy Bene- 
 
ROME. 47 
 
 dictine Virgins, in the venerable convent of Saint Ceci- 
 Jia, and taking the name of Donna Maria Colomba Te- 
 resa of the Precious Blood of Jesus." The sonnets 
 were as unpoetical as the ceremony had been. 
 
 In spite of all the want of feeling in the forms that 
 had been gone through with, it was impossible not to 
 have a profound sense of the melancholy of this cere- 
 mony. "Whether the nun who has now to begin her 
 convent life had before been happy or unhappy, it 
 was equally sad to see her, a girl, thus renounce the 
 world, and confine herself within limits so narrow that 
 neither the affections nor the intellect could escape being 
 stunted and crushed by them. If the heart beat against 
 the bare convent-wall as against prison-bars, it would but 
 deaden itself the sooner. If it found at first a pleasant 
 sense of repose and shelter in the convent life's dull 
 round of useless daily exercises, and in the seclusion of 
 the small, white, silent chambers, it could not but grad- 
 ually smoulder and die away in very inanition. It im- 
 plies a curious deficiency of understanding, or an equally 
 strange perversion of the doctrine of Christ, that one 
 meaning to be a Christian should fail to reconcile the 
 love of this world with the love of God, and should seek 
 by desertion to win a victory. Here is faithlessness 
 assuming the garb of faith, and love seeking to grow 
 more pure and strong by crushing the very affections in 
 which it lives. The gospel of Christ is read back- 
 wards, when that world which" he came to save is re- 
 garded as a world which it is a merit to abandon. 
 
 And yet how explicable is this, explicable above all in 
 
48 TRAVKL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 a society where domestic life is so ill-understood as it is for 
 the most part here, where education is so imperfect, and^ 
 religion so overlaid with superstition ! Some souls may 
 perhaps be made better, or, if not better, more comfort- 
 able, by thus sheltering themselves from the cares of 
 common life ; but, for one made better, how many suifer 
 from want of the discipline of Worldly duty! and how 
 many, shunning known temptations, fall into others, 
 greater, but unsuspected ! 
 
 After the ceremony was over, I stayed in the church. 
 It is as ugly as most of the modern churches in Rome, 
 — disfigured with white paint, gilding, tawdry ornaments, 
 dirty, showy hangings, and tasteless offerings ; but, not- 
 withstanding these, it is one of the most interesting 
 churches in the city. It is built on the site of an 
 earlier church, which in its turn was erected on the 
 spot upon which, according to tradition, originally stood 
 the house of Saint Cecilia. The touching story of her 
 life and martyrdom is one of the most interesting of the 
 saintly legends of Eome. She lived and died in the 
 third century, and her memory seems to have been hon- 
 ored by those who knew her and had witnessed the excel- 
 lence of her life and the constancy of her death. She 
 was rich and beautiful and good. She so loved music, 
 and sang so sweetly, that angels are said to have joined 
 their voices with hers in the praise of God ; and she died 
 for her faith in Christ. The chamber of her house in 
 which she was martyred is said to be preserved in one of 
 the chapels of her church. It was a bathing-room, and 
 th« ancient pipes and furnaces still exist. The floor has 
 
EOME. 49 
 
 a pavement of later date, made of bits of broken marble 
 and colored stone. Upon one worn block of white mar- 
 ble, that had been brought from the place where it had 
 originally served for the sepulchral slab of some Chris- 
 tian in early times, there was the rude and half-effaced 
 figure of a dove bearing an olive-branch, with the words, 
 In Pace. They were the only words which remained. 
 Under the high altar is a statue, which is one of the 
 most affecting works of modern sculpture. It repre- 
 sents the body of Saint Cecilia as it was found in her 
 tomb, when it was opened in 1599, at the time of the 
 modernization of the church. She is lying upon one 
 side. Her face is turned away, and a cloth is bound 
 around her forehead. Her dress is perfectly simple, 
 covering, but not concealing her form. Her arms are ex- 
 tended, and her beautiful hands rest one upon the other ; 
 her feet are bare. A little circlet round her neck seems 
 to signify the mode of her death. There is an air of 
 entire purity and grace about her form and position. It 
 is not the statue of a living body, but it has none of the 
 horror of death, — only its rest and its dignity. It is 
 the statue of a noble, martyred woman, not in the an- 
 guish, but in the peace of martyrdom. 
 
 BoME, 21st January, 1866. 
 Cornelius, the distinguished German painter, who has 
 just received one of the great medals for his cartoons at 
 the Paris Exposition, has been living for two years past 
 in Rome. He is now an old man, but he still occupies 
 himself with his art, and has lately finished a design 
 4 
 
50 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 which his admirers regard as one of his finest works, and 
 in which he himself takes a pleasant, unafiected satis- 
 faction. It is now in his studio in the Palazzo Poll. 
 
 The work is a highly finished sketch in tempera for a 
 fresco, for the apse of the royal church in the burial- 
 ground at Berlin. It represents the waiting for the Last 
 Judgment, — the moment of expectation. The composi- 
 tion is a full, but not complete one. The immense space 
 to be occupied by the fresco, a space of some ninety feet 
 in height, (Michel Angelo's Last Judgment is but sixty 
 feet high,) affords ample room for many figures, and for 
 the noblest design. Cornelius has introduced certainly 
 many figures, not fewer than one hundred and twenty. 
 He has drawn part of his inspiration from the book 
 of Revelation, but the types of the Apocalypse are 
 strangely mingled with the realities of the Gospel and 
 the traditions of the Church. 
 
 I dislike to describe pictures ; no words can convey an 
 adequate idea of a painting. Still, enough can be told to 
 give an impression of the feeling manifest or the intellect 
 displayed in a work of Art ; and this picture seems to me 
 so remarkable, as an exhibition of the character of much 
 of the most applauded work of the present time, that 
 I venture on a brief description. 
 
 In the upper centre of the picture is the Saviour, 
 seated in a glory surrounded and supported by seraphs. 
 At his feet are the four beasts of the Apocalypse. At 
 his right stands the Virgin, and opposite to her St. John 
 the Baptist. Immediately above the figure of Christ, 
 and forming the upper group in the picture, are a band 
 
ROME. 51 
 
 of angels, bearing the instruments of the passion, and on 
 either side are the twenty-four elders, in white raiment, 
 casting down their crowns^ Beneath these, outside of the 
 Virgin and of St. John, are two rows of figures, the up- 
 per representing martyrs with palms in their hands, the 
 lower, apostles and saints. 
 
 Beneath the Saviour is a group of angels, of which the 
 principal figure holds the not yet opened book of life, 
 while the others have the trumpets of judgment in their 
 hands, awaiting the signal for sounding them. Below, 
 in a band stretching nearly across the picture, are the 
 chief fathers of the Greek and Latin Churches. They 
 rest upon a cloud, which serves, as it were, for the 
 base of heaven, but is connected at each end with earth 
 by aerial steps, as if to signify the union of the Church 
 in glory above with the Church in conflict below. On 
 these steps, at the right, ascends an angel with a cen- 
 ser, from which the smoke of the incense of prayer is 
 rising ; below is another angel, helping up a penitent ; 
 and at the foot is still another, defending a child from 
 a serpent that has wound about his leg. On the other 
 side, at the head of the steps, stands the Archangel 
 Michael, with his sword drawn, waiting for the order of 
 execution ; at the foot, advancing toward earth, are three 
 angels, one with the crown of thorns, another with the 
 olive of peace, the third with the palm of victory. In 
 the centre of the lower portion of the picture, between 
 the two stairways of cloud, stands a bare, unadorned altar, 
 surmounted by a cross. At the ends of the altar kneel 
 the present King and Queen of Prussia, surrounded. 
 
52 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 at a little distance, by the other members of the royal 
 family. 
 
 Such is the composition, which, by some of the Ger- 
 man critics here, is declared to be the most wonderful of 
 the age. But if my description has been at all intelli- 
 gible, it .is obvious that the first essential of a great com- 
 position is absent from this ; — that essential is unity. 
 No common sympathetic action, or mutual relation to 
 be recognized by the imagination, combines these dis- 
 cordant groups into one common interest. The Last 
 Judgment, however unsuitable it may be for painting, 
 and although adapted only to the coarse materiaUsm of 
 the Middle Ages, is at least a subject controlled by one 
 great motive. The emotions and the incidents belonging 
 to it are all distinctly referable to a common end and a 
 single overwhelming interest. But to attempt to repre- 
 sent the moment before the Judgment, the moment before 
 the action has commenced, is an attempt at once profane 
 and presumptuous. The more labored and elaborate in 
 detail it may be, the more inadequate it is made. This 
 picture is called a work of spiritual Art ; but is it not 
 rather a work of pure materialism ? 
 
 No one ever looked at Michel Angelo's Last Judg- 
 ment to have his conceptions of the awful day exalted or 
 enlarged. To feel the power even of this most muscular 
 of pictures, one must forget the subject, and look only at 
 the separate figures as studies of anatomy and of drawing. 
 One leaves the Sistine Chapel with no religious awe, with 
 no sense of exaltation ; but simply with a clearer ac- 
 quaintance with Michel Angelo's unparalleled force as 
 
ROME. 53 
 
 a draughtsman, and the conviction that the power exerted 
 by the artist produces no corresponding effect upon the 
 spectator, when that power is employed upon a subject 
 before which all human strength is weakness and the 
 clearest human conceptions only folly and confusion. 
 But when one looks at this work of Cornelius, one finds 
 not even that excellence in detail which might awaken 
 an interest in the separate portions of the unconnected 
 whole. It possesses no beauty of color, and no such pre- • 
 eminence in drawing as to give it any peculiar claim to 
 admiration. 
 
 But, moreover, it is one of those pictures which have 
 so far lost the characteristics of pictorial Art as to require 
 an explanation in words of its meaning, — not merely 
 of its meaning in details, for explanation of these is of 
 course required in many of the greatest pictures, but 
 explanation of its main object and purpose. However 
 attentively it may be studied, it does not explain itself. 
 What is the event for which all these figures are gathered 
 together ? No person, no action, no gesture indicates it. 
 If you have seen other pictures, you may guess that it 
 has something to do with the Judgment, or you may be 
 told what it is by some person who has learned. But 
 who are awaiting judgment ? Are the doctors of the 
 Church who sit on the cloud to escape the terrible day ? 
 Is the penitent whom the angel leads up the steps al- 
 ready judged and pardoned ? Is Michael the Archangel 
 waiting with drawn sword to descend upon the royal 
 fatnily of Prussia, who are the only people visible on 
 earth? What bold and empty absurdity to put King 
 
54 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Frederick "William in military uniform here ! Cornelius 
 may excuse himself by referring to the early masters, 
 who insert the portraits of their patrons in their most sa- 
 cred pictures. But there is no parallel. In the one case 
 it was honest superstition combining with vanity on the 
 patrons' part, that led to such a course ; but in this latter 
 instance there is nothing better than a courtier's flattery 
 and the degradation of an artist. 
 
 In pictures by the old masters, where a story is 
 treated in episodes, the idea of unity in the general de- 
 sign is lost sight of in the desire to convey the meaning 
 more strongly by the introduction of various incidents, 
 sometimes disconnected in time and place with each 
 other, sometimes the successive scenes of a continuous 
 story. These are narratives in painting instead of in 
 words, and belonged to that age when pictures supplied 
 the want of books, and wheji the object and limits of Art 
 were most imperfectly understood. But the separate 
 groups in this fresco of Cornelius, although remote from 
 each other in all natural relations, have no episodic char- 
 acter. None' of them are complete in themselves, and 
 yet many have so little bearing upon the general design 
 that one after another might be struck out, and no want 
 would be felt. 
 
 This picture is a type of many works of recent Art, 
 and especially of some of the most celebrated of the 
 present German schools. It may or may not be soon 
 forgotten ; but the school of which Cornelius has long 
 been the acknowledged head will, for some time at least, 
 continue to exercise an effect more or less powerful upon 
 
HOME. 55 
 
 the progress and prospects of Art. The sooner the false- 
 ness of the principles upon which it has proceeded, and 
 the consequent worthlessness of its results, are exposed 
 and understood, the better will it be, not merely for Art, 
 but for Religion. 
 
 Two great mistakes seem to be at the foundation of its 
 eflforts, — one, the rejection of truth to Nature, as the sole 
 source of worth in Art, — the other, the frequent substi- 
 tution of mere intellectual force or fancy for spiritual sen- 
 timent ; so that, in place of the harmonious combination 
 of thought and feeling, feeling has been sacrificed, and 
 the intellect itself dwarfed by its absence. Take, for in- 
 stance, Kaulbach's famous picture of the Dispersion of 
 the Races, as an example in which both these errors are 
 peculiarly exhibited. Pew pictures have been more 
 praised, or more circulated by engravings in the last few 
 years, than this ; and yet it would be difficult to find a 
 picture, showing equal capacity on the part of the artist, 
 in which essential truth to Nature was more sacrificed. 
 It is a composition of powerful incongruities, and the 
 power is that of exaggeration. Nor is the absence of 
 truth to Nature greater than the absence of sincere feel- 
 ing. It bears no marks of being an inevitable work 
 of genius. It is rather a block-house of the intellect, in 
 which piece after piece of study is filled up, to produce 
 what is meant for a great work. The signs of inspiration 
 are imitated, but its reality is not experienced.* 
 
 * Kaulbach was the pupil of Cornelius, though now the head of 
 a sect somewhat adverse to his old master. For other instances 
 of his manner, see his Illustrations to Shakspeare. They are pure 
 travesties. 
 
5G TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 A striking instance is afforded by another famous Ger- 
 man artist, Overbeck, of the manner in which Nature 
 has been disregarded out of deference to a preconceived 
 ideal. In his works one may see how a man even of 
 sincere religious conviction may fail, when by misfortune 
 or by fault he prefers following other men, to following 
 the simple truth. Overbeck's style is founded upon that 
 of the masters of the fifteenth century. Charmed, as 
 every one of sensibility cannot fail to be, with the sim- 
 plicity, sincerity, and fervor exhibited in the works of the 
 early painters, Overbeck has tried to adopt their man- 
 ner, with the idea of producing the same effect. But the 
 manner of the painters of the fifteenth century was often 
 shackled and cramped by difiiculties which have long 
 since been broken away, and by ignorance which has 
 long since yielded to knowledge. They painted the best 
 they knew ; their charm was not a mere charm of man- 
 ner, but of character. A Fra Angelico would paint more 
 angelic angels to-day than he could four hundred years 
 ago, if he kept the same purity of soul that he then pos- 
 sessed. The beauty and the holiness of which their pic- 
 tures are fuller than any others that the world has seen 
 were often rendered in spite of and not by means of their 
 technical manner. Had Overbeck lived in a cloister four 
 centuries ago, and painted as he does now, his pictures 
 would be precious as representations of the feeling and 
 the power of an artist of that early time ; but being 
 painted to-day, they are only exhibitions of a talent that 
 finds itself in the world out of season, and seeks its 
 inspiration in the works of long past men, instead of in 
 
ROME. 57 
 
 Nature, fresh and full of beauty to-day as on the day 
 when God first looked upon his work and saw that it was 
 good. Truth and goodness are the same in one age as in 
 another, and yet the manifestations of truth and goodness 
 vary with every day and with every human soul. It 
 displays a pitiful mingling of wilfulness and weakness to 
 shut one's eyes to actual life and beauty, and in pietistic 
 fervor to endeavor to revivify the meagre saints and mild 
 Madonnas of five hundred years ago. 
 
 It is a greatly neglected canon of Art, that no work 
 founded on the principle of imitation possesses any real 
 vitality or genuine worth. If a man be truly an artist, 
 he will find that he has a special message to deliver, 
 which cannot be expressed in old forms. It is new wine, 
 and needs new bottles. 
 
 Rome, February 10th, 1856, Sunday. 
 
 The Accademia Tiberina holds its sessions on Sunday 
 evenings, in a hall in the Palazzo dei Sabini. It is one 
 of those literary academies, of which there were formerly 
 so many and some so famous in Italy, and of which the 
 greater number have died out or been crushed out in 
 later years. There is little to be feared or to be hoped 
 from them now. They would not exist, were there any 
 danger of their becoming too liberal. 
 
 This evening the large hall of the Academy was poorly 
 lighted with a few oil-lamps, and a few priests and sleepy 
 old gentlemen sat scattered about the room. By degrees 
 the seats were slowly filled ; a few ladies came in ; a 
 young man lighted up candles, so that one could see the 
 
58 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 dim frescoes on the walls ; two cardinals shuffled in with 
 some bustle and parade; and then the membera of the 
 Academy who were to take part in the evening's per- 
 formances appeared from a back room, and took their 
 seats upon the platform, fronting the audience. The car- 
 dinals, by the way, sat before the rest of the company on 
 old-fashioned gilt chairs. 
 
 The performances commenced with the reading, by an 
 architect, of a paper on the restoration of the curious 
 Church of San Niccolo in Carcere. It was a good speci- 
 men of the old style of academic dissertation. It was 
 the sort of thing in which one might sleep through a 
 century or two without harm. Beginning with TuUus 
 Hostilius, a thousand years before the church was built, 
 continuing through the history of republican Rome, the 
 essay arrived in due time at the commencement of the 
 Christian era, and finally at that of the erection of the 
 church. The narrative was broken by disquisitions on 
 the value of the science of archeology, on the sufierings 
 of the martyrs, on the virtues of his Holiness the reign- 
 ing Pope, and other more or less remote topics. Then 
 came a shower of facts about the church, rattling down 
 dry and hard on the heads of the audience ; and when at 
 length the end arrived, it was received with undeniable 
 satisfaction and applause. The subject was an interest- 
 ing one, treated by an academician. 
 
 When this discourse was finished, the President an- 
 nounced the name of a young priest, who rose and recited 
 a long series of Latin hexameters on the Sacrifice of Isaac. 
 , They might have been written two hundred years ago. 
 
ROME. 59 
 
 The priest took his seat, and the President said, " La 
 Contessa Teresa Gnoli " ; and a young lady, who had been 
 the only lady on the stage during the evening, rose and 
 commenced the recitation of some verses upon the meet- 
 ing of Beatrice and Laura. A delicate expression of 
 sensitiveness and timidity was united with a dignified 
 self-possession in her bearing and manner. Nor was the 
 charm of her manner greater than the sweetness of her 
 voice, the grace and dramatic energy of her gestures and 
 expression, the simplicity and taste of her dress. Her 
 poem was musical, and full of that tender feeling which 
 the thought of Beatrice and of Laura might well awaken 
 in the heart of a sensitive Italian woman. The audience 
 were brought into sympathy with her, and, in a rapture 
 of delight, broke in upon her recitation with cries of 
 « Cara ! " « Cara ! " " Bella ! " " Bellissima ! " She sat 
 down, almost overwhelmed by the applause of her enthu- 
 siastic listeners. For a moment, this one graceful woman, 
 with the fire of youth and poetry, animated the old room, 
 the languid audience, the pompous cardinals, and the 
 decaying Academy, with a life and spirit to which they 
 were little used. The Contessa Gnoli is a descendant of 
 Ariosto. 
 
 It would have been well, had the performances of the 
 evening ended here; but other poems followed. They 
 were of that class which belong to a period of lifelessness, 
 when originality is proscribed as a defect, imagination re- 
 garded as a heresy, and the copyist of ancient forms more 
 praised than the creator of new spirits. One alone was 
 good as a humorous piece of social satire ; most of the 
 
60 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 others had the dull and musty odor of the cloister ; all 
 were written by men living where liberty of speech is 
 dangerous, and liberty of thought only suspiciously and 
 irregularly indulged. It is, perhaps, in such a place and 
 at such a period that the most verses and the least poetry 
 are written. 
 
 Everything is the subject of an ode or a sonnet, here 
 in !Rome. Six sonnets were written on occasion of the 
 nun's taking the veil at the convent of Santa Cecilia the 
 other day, — and this ceremony is not a rare one. There 
 is a poetic chronicle of the commonest affairs ; and the 
 history of the Pope might be traced or lost in innumera- 
 ble verses. Of pure improvisation there is little. Gianni, 
 who died some years since, was one of the last of the 
 famous improvvisatori. An improvised sonnet of his, on 
 the Death of Judas, is a most striking specimen of rapid 
 composition, not merely on account of the difficulties of 
 the form and the complexity of the rhyme, but still more 
 from the vigor of expression, which runs, indeed, here 
 and there, into excess. The haste of composition is well 
 shown by the imperfect syntax of the fifth and sixth 
 lines. 
 
 AI ora che Giuda di furor satollo 
 
 Fiombb dal ramo, rapido si mosse 
 
 II tutelar suo demone, e scontrollo, 
 
 Battendo le aJe fumigantl e rosse. 
 E per la fune che pendea dal collo 
 
 Giii nel bollor delle Tartaree fosse; 
 
 Appena con le fortl unghie avventollo 
 
 Che arser le oarni e sibilaron le osse. 
 E giunto nell' ignivoma bufera, 
 
 Lo stesso orribil Satana fu visto 
 
ROME. 61 
 
 L' accigliata spianar fronte severa. 
 Poi con le brnccia incatenb quel tristo, 
 E con la bocca insanguinata e nera 
 Gli rese il bacio che avea dato a Cristo.* 
 
 This is one of that class of sonnets which the Italians 
 call sonelti eol hotto, " sonnets with a blow," the last line 
 being concentrated and energetic beyond all the rest, and 
 closing the sonnet with an explosion of force. It is a 
 style less in favor now than of old ; and a better taste 
 shows itself in less ambitious and less striking, but more 
 simple and pleasing performances. 
 
 Monti wrote four sonnets upon the same theme with 
 this of Gianni, but none of them seems to me to possess 
 so much merit, and the horror of the subject is to be 
 forgotten only in the display of the peculiar power of the 
 improvvisatore. 
 
 ■ It is a misfortune that the Italian language should 
 lend itself so readily to the making of verses. Papal 
 Eome has never had a poet. 
 
 * Tkamslatioh. — That hour when Judas, filled with madness, 
 hung from the tree, his guardian demon came with rapid flight to con- 
 front him, flapping his smoking and red wings. And by the rope that 
 hung about his neck, down into the boiling of the hellish ditch [he 
 flung him]. Hardly had the demon snatched him with his strong 
 claws, before his flesh burned and his bones hissed. And having 
 reached the fiery whirlwind, horrible Satan himself was seen to 
 smooth his wrinkled brow severe. Then with his arms he enchained 
 that wretch, and, with his bloody and black mouth, gave back to him 
 the luss that he had given to Christ. 
 
62 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 EoMK, 6th Fetrnary, 1856. 
 Rome possesses comparatively few works of those cen- 
 turies when modern Art exhibited its purest power, and 
 reached a spiritual elevation from which it soon fell, 
 and which it has never since reattained. The decline 
 that became obvious in the sixteenth century stamped 
 its marks upon the face of the city. Raphael and Michel 
 Angelo were the forerunners of decay, and their works 
 and those of the host of their unworthy followers are the 
 works which give one of its most prevailing characteris- 
 tics to Rome of the present day, and predominate over 
 all others. The spirit of the earlier artists was incon- 
 gruous with the worldly pomp and selfish display of the 
 capital of the Popes ; but Michel Angelo's genius gave 
 just expression to the character of the Papacy in its 
 period of greatest splendor, and Bernini is the fit repre- 
 sentative of its weakness and decline. The eye is 
 wearied and discouraged by the constant repetition of 
 monuments of Art which, the more skilful and elaborate 
 they may be, only the more exhibit the absence of noble 
 design and elevated thought. It is vain to seek among 
 them for that excellence which is at once the result and 
 the source of integrity of purpose and purity of affection. 
 The spirit of Christianity is not visible in them. Change 
 the attributes with which they are accompanied, (nor 
 would even this change be always required,) and the host 
 of sculptured and painted angels, prophets, and martyrs 
 of these later centuries might stand for heathen images 
 or for figures of the lowest earthly characters. Simplici- 
 ty is banished and modesty proscribed. Instead of 
 
ROME. 63 
 
 being the minister of truth, the purifier of affections, 
 the revealer of the beauty of God, Art was degraded to 
 the service of ambition and^ caprice, of luxury and pomp, 
 until it became utterly corrupt and false. 
 
 The power of appreciating what was good was neces- 
 sarily lost with the desire for it and the love of it ; and 
 the results of the last two centuries and a half in Korae 
 are hardly more melancholy in what they have produced 
 than in what they have destroyed. Works of such men 
 as Giotto, Fra Angelico, Perugino, and Bazzi have been 
 effaced to make room for others worse than worthless; 
 and even now the current of improved taste and feeling 
 is not so strong as to save from the profanation of so- 
 called restorers many most precious relics of the past. 
 The example of destruction was set in Raphael's time ; 
 and whatever may be the estimate in which his Stanze are 
 held, it is not to be forgotten that pictures by Perugino 
 and Signorelli were obliterated to make room for them. 
 
 Amid this general wreck, a few of the earlier works 
 have escaped ; and after the ambitious effort and empti- 
 ness of the degenerate schools, it is a relief and delight 
 to find here and there a specimen of the labors of those 
 masters who regarded their art as a sacred calling, and 
 worked not for the sake of applause or gain, but for the 
 love and in the fear of God. The most precious of all 
 these is, perhaps, the little chapel of Nicholas V.,- in the 
 Vatican, whose walls are covered with a series of frescoes 
 by Fra Angelico, illustrating the stories of St. Stephen 
 and St. Lawrence. This chapel is said to be the oldest 
 part of the present Vatican, and its preservation seems 
 
64 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 to have been owing more to accident than to any recog- 
 nition of the beauty which it contained. For more than 
 a hundred years the key to it was lost, and its door was 
 unopened. Few, except the readers of Vasari, knew 
 that such a chapel had existed, and as late as the middle 
 of the last century the still smaller number of those who 
 desired to see the frescoes were obliged to scramble into 
 it through the single window over the high altar. An- 
 other chapel at the Vatican was painted by Fra Angel- 
 ico, with scenes from the life of Christ ; " an excellent 
 work in his manner," says Vasari, and one of whose 
 merit we may judge, not only by that of the pictures in 
 the chapel of Nicholas V., but also by our knowledge of 
 the manner in which this most Christian painter was ac- 
 customed to treat the subjects that he drew from the life 
 of his Master. But this second chapel was destroyed 
 less than a hundred years after it had been painted, by 
 one of the Popes, (Paul III.,) who desired to straighten 
 a staircase that ran by its side. It is fortunate that no 
 crooked stairs passed by that of Nicholas V. 
 
 It was in the year 1446 that Fra Angelico was called 
 by the Pope from his convent at Fiesole to paint at 
 Home. He was already an old man, for he was born in 
 1387. He had painted in Foligno and in Cortona, but 
 his principal works were in Florence, and from there his 
 fame had spread over Italy. His life had not been 
 marked by great events, and among the biographies of 
 artists there are few of less interest from their incidents, 
 or of more interest from the character displayed in them, 
 than his. Vasari, usually little appreciative of the na- 
 
ROME. 65 
 
 ture and value of the moral relations and the religious 
 bearing of Art, is kindled into enthusiasm in writing of 
 this pure and holy man. Contemporary prejudices and 
 prepossessions are forgotten, and the biographer partakes 
 for the time of the spirit of the artist.* " Such superior 
 and extraordinary talent," he says, " as was that of Fra 
 Giovanni, cannot and ought not to belong to any but a 
 man of most holy life ; for those who employ themselves 
 on religious and holy subjects ought to be religious and 
 holy men." He was simple in his modes of life, and a 
 great friend of the poor. He might have been rich, had 
 he cared to be so ; but he used to say that true riches was 
 in being content with little. He said that he who em- 
 ployed himself in Art had need of quiet and of living free 
 from cares, and that he who would represent Christ 
 should always live with Christ. " He was never seen 
 angry with any of the brothers of the convent; which 
 seems to me," says the honest Vasari, "a very great 
 thing, and one almost impossible to believe. In fine, 
 this never sufiiciently to be praised father was most hum- 
 ble and modest in all his works and discourse, and in his 
 pictures easy and devout ; and the saints that he painted 
 have more the air and likeness of saints than those of 
 any one else. It was his custom never to retouch or go 
 over his painting, but to leave it always as it first came, 
 
 * To such a degree is this the case, that many have supposed that 
 this Life could not have been written by Vasari ; but there seems no 
 sufficient ground for depriving him of the credit of having composed 
 this delightful narrative. See Le Monnier's edition of Vasari's Lives. 
 Florence, 1848, Vol. IV. Gommmtario alia Vita di Frate Giovanni. 
 & 
 
66 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 believing, as he said, that such was the will of Gocli 
 Some say that Fra Giovanni would never put his hand 
 to his brush before he had made a prayer. He never 
 painted a crucifix but tears bathed his cheeks, and thus 
 in the looks and attitudes of his figures is seen the good- 
 ness of his sincere and great soul in the Christian religion." 
 
 No artist ever more completely painted his own char- 
 acter in his works than Fra Angelico. The simpUcity, 
 the purity, and the spirituality of his life are visible in 
 them all. The angels of other artists rarely seem angelic 
 when compared with his, and the happy name by which he 
 is known is at once expressive of his own virtues and of 
 the preeminence of his conceptions of the heavenly host. 
 Many faults of drawing, many limitations of technical 
 skill, many of what in strict language are to be called 
 artistic defects, are visible in his pictures ; but these de- 
 fects were common to all artists of the age ; and it is 
 to be remembered that even in artistic qualities he is 
 the equal of the best of his time, while the spirit which 
 pervades his works is such as to give a charm to their 
 very deficiencies, and the stiffness of Fra Angelico is 
 not only pardoned, but loved, for the beauty that lies 
 behind it. 
 
 The chapel of Nicholas V. is very small, and its ceil- 
 ing and walls are wholly covered with his paintings^ 
 Most of them, though faded, are well preserved ; but 
 a few have been ruined by dampness, and others have 
 suffered at the hands of restorers. The ceiling is of a 
 deep sky-blue color, pointed over with golden stars. In 
 the four compartments into which it is divided are the 
 
ROME. 67 
 
 Four Evangelists. In the corners of the chapel are the 
 Eight Doctors of the Church, — two in each corner, one 
 above the other.* 
 
 On the walls are represented, in six compartments, the 
 principal events of the lives of St. Stephen and St. Law- 
 rence, so arranged that the correspondences in their his- 
 tories may distinctly appear. These two saints have 
 long been associated together in the legends of the 
 Church. Their bodies lie in the same tomb, under the 
 high altar of the venerable basilica of St. Lawrence with- 
 out the Walls, one of the most interesting churches in 
 Rome, from its antiquity, the beauty and solitude of its 
 position, standing lonely on the edge of the Campagna, 
 and from its air of undisturbed quiet and tranquil decay. 
 It is said, that, when the relics of St. Stephen were low- 
 ered into the tomb, the bones of St. Lawrence moved to 
 make room for them. 
 
 The most beautiful of these works of Era Angelico — 
 of which all are beautiful — are, perhaps, the Preaching 
 of St. Stephen, and the Distribution of Alms by St. Law- 
 rence. In the first the Saint stands upon a step, robed in 
 a deacon's dress. Before him sit many women upon the 
 ground, listening to his words. Behind these women 
 stand " certain of the synagogue," laying plots against 
 him. The background is occupied with the buildings of 
 Jerusalem. The simplicity of the arrangement of the 
 group of women is entire ; their attitudes are full of na- 
 
 * They are St. John Chrysostbiu and St. Bonaventura (or St. Je- 
 rome), St. Gregory and St. Augustine, St. Athanasius and St. Thomas 
 Aquinas, St. Ambrose and St. Leo. 
 
68 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 ture, of dignity, and of grace ; their expressions are of 
 earnest attention ; and their sweet, thoughtful, and serious 
 faces, " looking steadfastly on him, see his face as though 
 it were the face of an angel." The painter was too deeply 
 impressed with the reality of what he desired to represent, 
 to strive after those varieties of composition which, while 
 showing his skill, would have interfered with the needed 
 expression. The only collateral incident that he intro- 
 duces is the represention of a little child seated by his 
 mother, who holds his hand. There is nothing to remind 
 one of the painter ; St. Stephen and his audience are 
 all that the picture brings before the mind. 
 
 In the Distribution of Alms by St. Lawrence, the sub- 
 ject is not less simply and nobly treated. The Saint 
 stands in the centre of the picture, surrounded by the 
 poor, blind, and lame. His face has a deep serenity of 
 expression, as if his heart were filled with the foreknowl- 
 edge of that horrible but triumphant death which awaited 
 him on the next day. His dress is of the richest color, 
 and ornamented with symbolic flames of gold. Two little 
 children, with their arms about each other, are at his side, 
 just turning away with the gift they have received from 
 him. A blind man is feeling forward with his staff. A 
 poor cripple is stretching up his hand for the alms which 
 the Saint holds out. A woman approaches with her baby 
 in her arms. Two old people draw near on the other 
 side. All the figures are instinct with truth and Ufe. It 
 is like a real scene, and the benign spirit of charity gives 
 it a celestial glory.* 
 
 * Small outlines from these two pictures are to be found in the last 
 
ROME. iS9 
 
 In the pictures of the martyrdoms of the two Saints, it 
 is curious to observe how the mild pencil of Fra Angelico 
 has refused to represent the vileness of the execution- 
 ers. He could not paint wickedness, and the bad them- 
 selves are saved from the -hatred that is due to them 
 by that sublime weakness which was unable to im- 
 agine evil. This chapel is one of the holy places of 
 Rome; 
 
 Fra Angelico never returned to his well-beloved con- 
 vents in Florence and in Fiesole. He painted other 
 works in Rome, and for some months labored in that 
 great storehouse of the best Art, the duomo of Orvieto. 
 He died at Rome on the 18th of March, 1455. He was 
 buried in the church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva, and 
 the Pope, Nicholas V., who had held him in just esteem, 
 caused a monumental slab, upon which his effigy was 
 sculptured, to be erected to his memory. 
 
 This monument still remains in the chapel at the left 
 of the choir of this splendid church. The artist is repre- 
 sented in the dress of his order, his head resting upon 
 a pillow and his hands folded. The face seems to have 
 been taken from a mask made after death. The closed 
 eyes are deep-set, and the cheeks hollow, as if sunk with 
 age and disease. The features are small and delicate, 
 and marked with an air of grave repose. The lower 
 part of the monument is worn by the passing by of the 
 
 edition of the English translation of Kugler's Bandbook of Paint- 
 ing; and the Arundel Society has done a good work in publishing 
 a complete series of outlines, on a large scale, of the frescoes in this 
 chapel. 
 
70 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 generations that have stood and knelt at its side. Tiie 
 inscription under the figure is as follows : — 
 
 HIO JACBT VEN. PICTOE FR. lO. DE PLO. ORDHflS PREDIOAT. 
 14LV. 
 
 NGN MIHI SIT LAUDI QUOD ERAM VELUT ALTER APELLES 
 SED QUOD LUCRA TUIS OMNIA CHRISTE DABAM : 
 ALTERA NAM TERRIS OPERA EXTANT ALTERA CCELO. 
 URBS ME JOANNEM FLOS TULIT ETRURIJE. 
 
 Here lies the venerable painter, Brother John of Florence, of the 
 Order of the Preachers. 1455. 
 
 Not mine be the praise that I was as a second Apelles, 
 But that I gave all my gains to thine, Christ! 
 One work is for the earth, another for heaven. 
 The city the Flower of Tuscany bore me — John. 
 
 Rome, February, 1866. 
 It is a custom in Rome, when a house is completed, 
 that all those who have been engaged in building it 
 should have a little celebration together. I met last 
 night an architect well known here, a man of education 
 and intelligence. Not long ago, he was at a meeting of 
 this sort, to celebrate the completion of a building, the 
 erection of which he had overseen. In the midst of the 
 proceedings, the police suddenly broke in, and arrested 
 the architect with sevcal others of the company. He 
 was thrown into prison, — and this is in itself a severe 
 punishment in Rome, owing to the ill condition and bad 
 management of the prisons ; he was not informed of the 
 nature of the charge against him ; for three months he 
 was in confinement ; he was then brought before one of 
 
EOME. 71 
 
 the courts, and learned that he was charged with having 
 taken part in a seditious meeting. He was able to prove 
 that the meeting was simply of the kind described, and 
 that he and the workmen with whom he had been asso- 
 ciated were infringing on no political reserves ; and he 
 was ordered to be discharged, but to remain for some 
 months under the surveillance of the police. He received 
 no apology or compensation, and he had no means of re- 
 dress. The authorities took no account of the interrup- 
 tion of his social relations, or of the injury to his business. 
 It would be dangerous for him, were he to complain, and 
 no good could come of it ; even the story must he told 
 under one's breath. I heard it last night in a drawing- 
 room, where was delighting the company with 
 
 the music of his wonderful violin. Under a despotism, 
 the musician has a happy lot. No spy can detect the 
 sedition that may lie within the compass of his instru- 
 ment ; and he may breathe out the longings of his soul 
 for freedom in notes the secret meaning of which no 
 police agent can suspect. The Italian loves that music 
 which expresses those passions the expression of which 
 he may indulge in no other way. It is for this reason 
 that Verdi is now the favorite master over all Italy ; and 
 it is not only because the librettos of some of his operas 
 were too liberal, but because the music itself was instinct 
 with the wild and vague liberalism of the time, that 
 their performance has now and then been forbidden by 
 suspicious authorities. But when the singers could no 
 longer sing them, the organists began to play them in the 
 churches. 
 
72 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Rome, February 22d, 1856. 
 
 The condition of public affairs here is thoroughly dis- 
 heartening. No state could be more rotten and retain 
 its vitality. " Our government," — a Soman, who is 
 neither revolutionist nor radical, said to me, — "our gov- 
 ernment is in the hands of three classes : bigots, knaves, 
 and fools." The principle of action of the larger num- 
 ber of these men is expressed in the concise words of 
 Louis XV. : " Geci durera plus que moi " ; they are men 
 without religion, without probity, without patriotism, but 
 with power. 
 
 This year some of the annual taxes were laid for four- 
 teen instead of twelve months. A piece of absurd chi- 
 canery. The government did not wish nominally to 
 increase the tax, and therefore ordered that the year 
 should be considered as containing fourteen months, and 
 the tax be reckoned by months, and paid accordingly. 
 
 No employe of government pays taxes. 
 
 Corruption rules supreme. It is acknowledged and 
 permitted by the highest authorities. Many officials re- 
 ceive a salary so small as to be utterly insufficient for 
 their support ; they are told to depend for their livelihood 
 on the incerti of their office, — that is, on fees, whose veiy 
 name shows that they are regulated by no fixed scale, 
 but depend on the ingenuity and the impudence of him 
 who demands them. 
 
 Both justice and injustice are for sale ; and the first 
 price asked for either is often much larger than will be 
 finally accepted ; as is the case with that asked for most 
 articles in Rome. 
 
ROME. 73 
 
 One of the most amusing instances of petty and cor- 
 rupt tyranny is that exercised by the servants of men in 
 authority. These servants, coming from the very dregs 
 of the people, with all the pretensions of full-blooded 
 flunkies, and with aU the dirt of a friar, keep a list of the 
 persons who visit or have business with their masters ; 
 and twice a year, at midsummer and at the beginning of 
 the year, call at the houses of these their masters' ac- 
 quaintance, and demand a mancia, a " gift," or a " fee," 
 for their services. If it is refused, they have a thousand 
 ways of exacting their vengeance. Their master is not 
 in when he who does not give the mancia calls ; notes 
 to him are mislaid ; and all the petty vexations that the 
 malice of servants can suggest are well worked out. To 
 one whose social relations are extensive, the mancia is a 
 serious tax. From three to five pauls (thirty to fifty 
 cents) is a common sum to be given. It is plain how 
 soon this would score up to a considerable amount. 
 
 The saddest aspect of things here arises, however, not 
 from the weak tyranny of the government, nor from the 
 corruption of officials, but from the character and con- 
 dition of the people themselves. Society is divided into 
 two great classes, — that of those whose interest it is to 
 keep things as they are, and that of those who would 
 change or overthrow the existing conditions, in the belief 
 that change must be improvement. The first of these 
 classes is a sm'all minority, but united by discipline, by 
 education, and by faith, and holding power, money, and 
 troops in their hands. The other is made up of nine- 
 tenths of the Romans, but without organization, without 
 
74 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 confidence in each other, without intimate knowledge 
 of each other, and witli principles so adverse on many 
 points as to desire completely diiFerent courses of action. 
 Distrust is the one prevailing element in society. No 
 one confides in the one who stands next to him. Hypoc- 
 risy is the rule, not only of Jesuits, but of those who 
 have been governed by Jesuits. 
 
 Meanwhile, moderate and thoughtful men live and suf- 
 fer. Their daily lives are a daily struggle. To die 
 would be a happiness, if by their deaths any good could 
 be accomplished for Rome ; but to offer themselves as 
 sacrifices, in a cause where the devotion of a single life 
 would seem like attempting to force a flood back with the 
 hands, would be the exhibition not of heroism, but of 
 impatience and of faithlessness. " But it is better not to 
 talk of these things," said an Italian to me ; " for these 
 are the things that leave a bitterness in the heart." All 
 is darkness, and the wisest men are groping for light, not 
 knowing in what direction it lies. But perhaps the first 
 glimmer of a new dawn may even at this black moment 
 be springing fast forward, soon to break the blankness of 
 the sky. God deserts not the world. Trial, sorrow, and 
 suffering are the forerunners of justice, liberty, and truth. 
 
 " I watch the circle of the eternal years, 
 And read for ever in the storied page 
 One lengthened roll of blood and wrong and tears, 
 One onward step of Truth from age to age. 
 
 " The poor are crushed; the tyrants linlc their chain; 
 The poet sings through narrow dungeon-grates ; 
 Man's hope lies quenched; andlo! with steadfast gain 
 Freedom doth forge her mail of adverse fates." 
 
ROME. 75 
 
 Rome, 28th January, 1856. 
 
 The Sala Eegia at the Vatican serves as a vestibule 
 for the Sistine and Pauline chapels. Few persons stop 
 long to examine the frescoes with which its walls are 
 covered ; for Michel Angelo's great picture is too near, 
 and Raphael's loggie are to be reached through the 
 adjoining hall. The frescoes, indeed, are the work of 
 second-rate artists, and do not, for the most part, deserve 
 attention, except as affording some curious illustrations 
 of the facts of history, as understood at the Papal court 
 at the time when they were executed. In this respect, 
 three of them are remarkable enough, and the story of 
 their painting is entertaining ; — they are the three by 
 Vasari, representing scenes from the Massacre of St. 
 Bartholomew. 
 
 In the beginning of 1572, Vasari, who was now sixty 
 years old, was at work painting in this hall under the 
 direction of Pope Pius V., with whom he was a great 
 favorite. Other artists had been previously employed ; 
 but now Vasari was to do all that remained, and to go 
 on until the work was completed. Suddenly, on the first 
 of May, the old Pope died. Poor Vasari was bitterly 
 vexed. " This is an infinite loss to me," he writes, the 
 day after the Pope's death; "for I was just settling 
 affairs for Marcantonio," (his nephew, for whom he had 
 been endeavoring to secure some favor,) "and getting 
 something for myself. .... I was just finishing painting 
 in fresco the Battle of the Turks, and it is the best thing 
 that I ever did, and the greatest and the most studied ; 
 but his Holiness has carried away with him all the hopes 
 
76 TRAVEL AND STUDY. IN ITALY. 
 
 of my labors, yet the fame of Giorgio will remain for 
 ages of years ; thus it is that the wind carries away van- 
 ity and our labors." * The honesty of Giorgio's letter is 
 delightful, and his attempt at resignation has an amusing 
 naivete. His plans were for the time broken up, and it 
 was doubtful whether the next Pope would stand his 
 friend and continue him in the work that he had begun. 
 He had to cover up his nearly finished Battle of Lepanto, 
 and, leaving Rome, returned to Florence, where he was 
 sure of employment under his patron, the Grand Duke 
 Cosmo I. Here he remained through the summer, but, 
 early in October, a letter came from Rome, summoning 
 him thither, at the command of the new Pope, Gregory 
 XIII., to finish the work he had begun in the Sala de' 
 Re. He did not delay going, and on the 17th of Novem- 
 ber he writes from Rome to Prince Francis, afterwards 
 Grand Duke of Tuscany, telling him of his arrival, and 
 of his satisfactory interview with the Pope. " His Holi- 
 ness intends to finish the hall entirely, and has a mind," 
 says Vasari, " to have on the side not yet painted the 
 affair of the Huguenots which has taken place this year 
 under his pontificate." On the 20th, the Prince writes 
 his answer to this letter. It was a short one, but there 
 was room in it for the following sentence : " His Holiness 
 does wisely in wishing that so holy and noble a success 
 as was the execution against the Hugttenots in France 
 should appear in the Sala de' Re." The massacre of St. 
 
 * This extract and the succeeding one are taken from letters pub- 
 lished by Dr. Gaye in liis Carleggio cfAiiUti, a book full of curious 
 and often important information. 
 
ROME. 77 
 
 Bartholomew had taken place but three months before 
 this time. The Pope's design of having this " eternal 
 infamy of France " painted upon the walls of the great 
 hall of his palace, and the Prince's approval of the plan 
 as one worthy of the head of the Church of Christ, would 
 be like an extravagant travesty of reality, were they not 
 so incontrovertibly true. 
 
 On the 12 th of December is another letter of Vasari's 
 to Prince Francis, in which he describes at some length 
 his designs for the three pictures that were to be painted 
 concerning the Huguenots. The first was to represent 
 the death of Admiral Coligny,. or rather his being borne 
 wounded to his palace ; the next was to be the break- 
 ing of his door by the Guises and their band, and the 
 throwing of the Admiral from the window, with the 
 slaughter of the Huguenots in the streets ; and the third 
 was to represent the King going to the church to return 
 thanks to God, and sitting in parliament with his council. 
 " These works, I am afraid, will keep me occupied a long 
 while." On the 18th of February, 1573, Vasari writes 
 to his friend Vincenzio Borghini, and in the course of 
 his letter says : " I keep my bands going like a flfer, and, 
 God be praised, every one of the six great cartoons for 
 the six pictures in the hall is entirely finished ; nor have 
 I ever done better, God helping me. And in the hall are 
 finished within eight days two pictures wholly colored in 
 fresco by my hand, which means something; and if 
 things go on so that next Tuesday Messer Lorenzo of 
 Bologna, with two others, come to help me, I believe that 
 by the end of April everything may be finished, and- 
 
78 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 everybody dismissed. But I do not believe that I shall 
 be able to get away from here before the end of May, 
 because I shall have to manage to get something for 
 Marcantonio, my nephew ; and this court is very slow, 
 and, although I am a favorite and well looked upon, etc., 
 this thing of making haste has the Devil on his back. 
 But I am skilful, and God will aid me, and I shall have 
 finished one of the greatest works that I ever did ; for if 
 Malagigi had had this hall to do, it would have fright- 
 ened him, both him and his devils ; but because here, 
 Monsignor Mio, is God, and He does these things, and not 
 I, you may be sure it is so." * 
 
 Other letters, giving an account of the progress of 
 the work, follow from time to time, equally amusing from 
 their unreserve, the pleasant mixture of piety and self- 
 complacency, and the clear picture which they aflTord, not 
 only of Vasari's character, but also of the condition of 
 things at this period in Rome. At last, on the 1st of 
 May, the pictures were finished, and he writes to tell Bor- 
 ghini of a visit which the Pope had paid to him in the hall 
 the day before : " The Pope and the few gentlemen who 
 were with him were full of wonder, and his Holiness 
 stayed there more than a whole hour, and said many 
 kind words to me, and told me that I had never done 
 better, and promised that he would give something to my 
 nephew, Marcantonio, and that he would remember me ; 
 
 * Vasari's sentences in these letters are frequently unfinished, and 
 with a syntax that is somewhat confused; obviously written offhand 
 and carelessly. The spelling, too, is often very bad; but his meaning 
 is generally clear. 
 
ROME. 79 
 
 and this evening the court is full of admiration, the re- 
 port having got about that I have finished." All through 
 the month his content continues. " This is the best work 
 of all that I have done in Eome." " God has granted to 
 me the favor that the hall is finished, and yesterday 
 morning [the 20th] it was opened with great praise a,nd 
 honor to me." In June, Vasari left the city, which, ac- 
 cording to his own expression, had been so good to him, 
 and returned to Florence. The pictures of the Massacre 
 of St. Bartholomew were the last works that he accom- 
 plished in Rome. In June of the next year, he died. 
 
 These frescoes, spite of Vasari's own judgment of 
 them, are hardly to be reckoned as his best works. 
 They are cold in color and weak in design. " We paint," 
 says he, " six pictures in a year, while the earlier mas- 
 ters took six years to paint one picture." And it would 
 not be difficult to paint six pictures of this sort in so 
 short a space of time. There is nothing, however, 
 in their execution, any more than in his letters about 
 them, to show that he regarded the subject of the massa- 
 cre with dislike. It was a triumph of the Church, and 
 it mattered little whether the Church triumphed over infi- 
 dels or over heretics. The time of faith had passed, 
 and had been succeeded by that of indifference to every- 
 thing but the interests of the visible Church. These 
 pictures stand not so much a monument to Vasari's 
 fame, as a record of the approval bestowed upon one 
 of the blackest deeds of intolerant and cruel passion 
 by him who professed to be the Vicar of Christ up- 
 on earth. 
 
80 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Inscriptions were placed under these three pictures. 
 The first read, — 
 
 GaSPAKD CoLISNIUS AmIRALLIUS AcCEPTO VuLJfERE DOMDM 
 
 Repertuk Greg. XIII. Pontip. Max. 1572. 
 The second was, — 
 
 C.S)DES COLIGNII £T SoCIOEnH EJUS. 
 
 And the third, — 
 
 Kex Colignii Necem Peobat. 
 
 In 1828 these inscriptions still existed,* but now they 
 are obliterated, and the space which they once filled is 
 unoccupied. One might suggest that these blanks should 
 be filled once more : that under the first picture one 
 should read, Love your enemies ; under the second, 
 Bless them that persecute you ; and under the third, 
 Forgive us our trespasses. 
 
 The news of the massacre of St. Bartholomew arriv- 
 ed at Eome on the 5th of September, 1572. The let- 
 ters announcing the event, which the legate of the Pope, 
 Salviati, had sent from Paris, were read the next morning 
 in the presence of the Pope, at an assembly of the Car- 
 
 * See Stendhal, Promenades dam Eome, I. 224. "Thus," says 
 this clever writer, " there is one place in Europe where assassination 
 is publicly honored." The upright President de Thou was accus- 
 tomed to quote the following lines from Statins, applying them to the 
 massacre. Their lesson seems to have been but half learned at 
 Some. 
 
 " Excidat ilia dies sevo, ne posteia credaat 
 Seecula : nos certe taceamus, et obruta multa 
 Nocte tegi prupriae patiamur crimina geatls." 
 
ROME. 81 
 
 dinals. Their contents were to the effect, that the Admi- 
 ral and the Huguenots having entered into a conspiracy 
 against the King, they had been slain by the royal will 
 and permission. After the news had been heard, it was 
 determined that there should be a solemn service in 
 commemoration of the event, on the next Monday, in 
 the church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva. From the 
 meeting, the Pope and Cardinals proceeded at once 
 to the church of St. Mark to render thanks to God the 
 infinitely great and good, {Deo optimo maximo,) for 
 the great favor He had vouchsafed to bestow on the 
 Roman Church and the whole Christian world. The 
 exultant joy at Rome was wonderful. A salvo was fired 
 from the castle of Sant' Angelo, and in the evening fire- 
 works were displayed and bonfires lighted in the streets. 
 None of those rejoicings were omitted which the Roman 
 Church observes on occasion of the most glorious vic- 
 tories. 
 
 The news of the massacre was received with especial 
 satisfaction by the Cardinal de Lorraine, brother to that 
 Duke de Guise who had been slain by a young Hugue- 
 not at the siege of Orleans in 1562. He hated the 
 Huguenots with a personal and vindictive hatred. He 
 gave publicly a thousand crowns to the courier who 
 brought intelligence so welcome to him, and, on his de- 
 mand, the Pope and the Cardinals went in procession, 
 two days afterward, with the most splendid and stately 
 pomp, to the church of San Luigi de' Francesi, to assist 
 at a solemn festival in celebration of this triumph over 
 the enemies of the Faith. The Cardinal placed an in- 
 
82 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 scription above the door of the church, in which, in the 
 name of his master, Charles IX., he congratulated the 
 Pontiff, the Cardinals, the Senate, and the people of 
 Rome, on the stupendous results of the prayers and the 
 counsels of many years.* The church was crowded by 
 the chief people of the city, and the Protestants were 
 publicly cursed. A jubilee was proclaimed by the Pope, 
 that thanks might be rAidered to God for the destruction 
 of the enemies of the truth, and of the Church in France, 
 and by his direction a medal was struck, on one side of 
 which were his own head and the date of his pontificate, 
 and on the other a representation of an angel with a 
 sword in his hand pursuing armed men, who are in flight, 
 and some of whom have already fallen, with the inscrip- 
 tion, Strages Vgonottorum, " The Slaughter of the Hu- 
 guenots." t 
 
 Such was the spirit of the times, and such the con- 
 dition of religion at Rome. All the facts above stated 
 are taken from Roman Catholic authorities. It would be 
 well to let them rest ; but in a series of tracts recently 
 written by some of the English converts to Romanism, 
 
 * See Thuanus, Hist. LIV. § 4. De Thou was an eyewitness of 
 the massacre at Paris, and the next year was at Rome. 
 
 t M. Artaud de Montor, well known as a zealous Romanist, gives a 
 full account of this medal, the existence of which has been some- 
 times disputed, in his life of Gregory XIII., — Histoire des Souveraim 
 Pontifes Romains, IV. 410-415. It was contained in a collection of 
 the Papal medals given to him by Pius VII. But it appears that 
 some years afterwards he himself persuaded Leo XII. to order this 
 medal, " ceite terrible m^daille," to be withdrawn from a similar col- 
 lection which this Pope was about to send away as a gift. 
 
EOME. 83 
 
 and much in favor here at present, there is an able and 
 curious defence of the proceedings of the Court of Rome 
 in this affair. The writer assumes that at the time of 
 these rejoicings nothing was known of the indiscriminate 
 nature of the massacre. " The Court of Rome rejoiced 
 and returned God thanks, not for a massacre, but for the 
 detection and suppression of a bloody conspiracy ; a legit- 
 imate and righteous cause of pious congratulation in the 
 eyes of every reasonable man." * And again : " In 
 short, the undoubted facts of history — and, I may add, 
 every new fact which is established — entirely acquit the 
 Pope and the Church of France of all sort of connection 
 with the massacre, whoever may have been its guilty con- 
 trivers. The accusation has not only no grounds, but no 
 shadow of a ground to rest upon ; and is the pure inven- 
 tion of a stupid and malignant bigotry, regardless alike 
 of rational probability and of historical truth." f This 
 statement may be literally corcect ; one may admit that 
 neither the Pope nor the Church of France had any con- 
 nection with this massacre as its contrivers or instigators, 
 but this is all. To rejoice in and honor the performance 
 of a deed after its commission is generally the token of a 
 spirit that would not have prevented its possessor from 
 taking share in the deed, had his circumstances allowed. 
 The Cardinal de Lorraine, whose vindictive exultation 
 over the massacre was exhibited in the most notorious 
 manner, was one of the highest dignitaries of that Church 
 which is said to have had no connection of any sort with 
 
 * Clifton Tracts, Vol. I. Tract V., p. 29. f Id., p. 32. 
 
84 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 the deed. The Pope marked his satisfaction in the most 
 durable of methods, and reckoned the event the chief 
 glory of the first year of his reign. It will not do to say 
 that he was ignorant of the horrid nature and the worse 
 than barbarous cruelties of the massacre, when he re- 
 garded it in this manner ; for it was three months after 
 it had taken place, a space too long for ignorance, that 
 he gave Vasari the order to paint those monumental pic- 
 tures which stiU bear witness to the truth on the walls 
 of the Sala de' Re. 
 
 It will be a happy day for truth, when Catholics and 
 Protestants alike become ready to acknowledge that men 
 of both names have, in all ages, done deeds for which 
 there can be no defence. To labor to obscure the truth 
 concerning guilt, and to seek for false or fallacious ex- 
 cuses of a crime, is to become a sharer in the crime 
 itself. 
 
 KOME, February 28th, 18B6. 
 
 Gas-works have recently been established in Rome, 
 under the charge of an English contractor. The tall 
 modern chimney of the works rises near to the Tiber, 
 under the Palatine Hill, and is somewhat incongruous, 
 both in appearance and association, with the character 
 of the surrounding objects. 
 
 The contractor is a monopolist, and carries things with 
 rather a high hand. One of his late proceedings exhibits 
 the manner in which justice reaches its end in Rome. 
 He was desirous of introducing gas into the house in 
 which he himself occupied hired apartments. The pro- 
 
ROME. 85 
 
 prietor, however, was averse to the proposal ; whereupon 
 the pipes were carried in by the Englishman, spite of all 
 opposition. The proprietor brought the case before one 
 of the courts, and a surveyor was appointed to examine 
 the premises and adjudicate upon the matter. He re- 
 ported, that the rights of the owner of the house had been 
 clearly violated, and that the English contractor ought to 
 be compelled to restore things to their former condition. 
 From this decision the contractor appealed to another 
 court. The decision was, however, confirmed, and an 
 architect appointed to oversee what was necessary to re- 
 store the house. The architect was beginning to carry 
 out the order of the court, when a notice was served 
 upon him by the police to proceed no farther in the busi- 
 ness. The explanation of this is simple. The English- 
 man is rich ; the police can be bribed. Omnia Romce 
 cum pretio. 
 
 BoME, 12th March, 1856. 
 The prevalence of beggary has been for centuries one 
 of the discredits of Rome. It has existed in spite of the 
 efforts and the bulls of successive Popes, and in spite also 
 of the abundant almsgiving of Catholic charity, — or rath- 
 er, not in spite of, so much as in consequence of, this indis- 
 criminate almsgiving. Perhaps no city in Europe is fur- 
 nished with more numerous or more wealthy institutions 
 for the care of the poor, and yet few cities have a larger 
 or more unblushing host of beggars. The beggary of 
 Eome is a reproach not so much to the charity as to the 
 good sense of the Romans. Poverty has been increased 
 
86 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 by the means taken to relieve it, and mistakes of judg' 
 ment and of doctrine have produced evil consequences, 
 for which no excellence of intention can serve as ex- 
 cuse. But in the midst of much false benevolenpe there 
 has been much of that true charity which does not con- 
 fine itself to the relief, but considers also how best to 
 secure the prevention of pressing want. Some of the 
 public charities in Eome are institutions of the most effi- 
 cient character ; and many private individuals now devote 
 themselves, and have in generations past devoted them- 
 selves, with self-forgetful energy, and an intelligence un- 
 blinded by the fallacies of the Church, to the improve- 
 ment of the condition of the poor. 
 
 I had the good-fortune, the other day, to find a little 
 book, printed in 1625, which contains the life of a man 
 who, in his time, did much good ; whose name, hardly 
 known at all out of Rome, and but little known even 
 there, deserves remembrance, as that of one who very 
 early saw and attempted to deal with the evil which is 
 pressing so heavily upon us, and to remedy which so 
 many attempts are being made in our cities, — that of 
 the destitution and misery of young children. His name 
 was Giovanni Leonardo Ceruso. He was born near 
 Salerno, not far from Naples, in the year 1551. His 
 parents were neither rich nor poor ; they lived happily, 
 and brought up their children in the fear of God, and as 
 good Christians. The elder brother of Giovanni became 
 the priest of the village where they lived, and put Gio- 
 vanni at the head of the parish school. Here he taught 
 the children with fidelity, and, as he almost always spoke 
 
ROME. 87 
 
 in Latin to them, and used often to write upon the 
 ground with a stick which he held in his hand while he 
 was in school, the older scholars gave him the nickname 
 of Letterato, by which name he was afterwards generally 
 known. During all his early life he appears to have 
 shown a devout and modest disposition, "and he was," 
 says this account, " so possessed with the virtue of charity, 
 that he exercised it towards all, and especially, to the weak- 
 est and most abject persons. He often visited the sick, 
 when there were any in the place, comforting them, and 
 aiding them with his means as much as he could." One 
 morning it happened that he, together with the other 
 members of his family, ate some poisonous funguses by 
 mistake for mushrooms. They were all taken violently 
 ill, and Letterato, being at the point of death, recom- 
 mended himself to the Most Holy Madonna of Loreto, 
 and made a vow that he would make a pilgrimage to her 
 Holy House, if she would restore him to health. He soon 
 got well, and in a short time left his little village to go to 
 Naples, in order to take service in the house of Signor 
 Mario Carrafa, that he might earn money enough to pay 
 the expenses of going to and returning from Loreto, in 
 fulfilment of his vow. He had not been long in his new 
 post before Signor Carrafa died, and Letterato, with the 
 money he had already earned, set out for Eome. " Here 
 he visited the Temple of St. Peter and the Seven 
 Churches, and at St. John, Letterato ascended the Holy 
 Stairs with great devotion; and discovering, during his 
 stay in Rome, that he had not money enough to prosecute 
 his journey, he set about finding a master and placing 
 
88 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 himself in the best way he could, and so was accepted as 
 groom in the household of the Cardinal de' Medici, who 
 was afterwards Grand Duke Ferdinand." In this new 
 service he acquitted himself with such acceptance as to 
 excite the jealousy of one of his fellow-servants, who 
 sought a quarrel with him, in which they both drew their 
 swords, and blood was near being shed. This event led 
 Letterato to reflect that his vow was as yet unfulfilled, 
 and, obtaining a dismissal from service, he set out for Lo- 
 reto on foot. The journey seems to have been spent in 
 sincere religious exercises, and was riot without its effects 
 upon his future life. It was in the winter of 1582, "a 
 most bitter and snowy winter," that he performed his vow, 
 and returned to Rome. On coming back to the city, he 
 saw much poverty, " and especially some poor children 
 deserted and half dead with cold and hunger." This 
 sight touched his heart, and he took, '' almost as if by 
 accident," three of these children, who were very fam- 
 ished and weak, and, carrying two of them in his arms, 
 led the other along by the hand, walking very slowly, 
 and by turns, as one grew tired, he took him up, setting 
 down one of the others to walk. So he went through the 
 city, till at length a charitable person gave him a cham- 
 ber in which to shelter the children, and others furnished 
 him with food and clothing for them. But every day the 
 number of children who needed care and help increased, 
 and Letterato continued his work. Larger rooms had to 
 be procured, and in supplying these with common coarse 
 bedding and other necessary articles of furniture, and 
 in getting clothes for the shivering boys, he spent all the 
 
ROME. 89 
 
 little money that he possessed. But the charity of others, 
 moved by his zeal and devotion, supplied him with fresh 
 means, and, as the number of his boys grew larger, his 
 ability to receive them was increased. " And now he be- 
 gan to teach these little children the Lord's Prayer, the 
 Ave Maria, the Credo, and the Salve Regina, and to sing 
 these and other prayers both morning and evening." And 
 in order that they might not be doing nothing all day, he 
 took them with him, making them walk two by two 
 through the city, singing their prayers and hymns. 
 About this time he I'aid aside the habit of a layman, and 
 adopted a dark blue coarse dress, and went barefooted, 
 and without any covering on his head, so that, on account 
 of his humble apparel and his troop of boys. Padre Ca- 
 millo was accustomed to call him " the dumb preacher,'' 
 as one who made himself understood without speaking. 
 And in order not to seek alms without having deserved 
 them, and in order also still more to humble his pride, (a 
 sin which he distrusted himself for possessing,) he began 
 with his largest boys to sweep the streets, especially 
 where were the most shops and offices ; and when the 
 work was finished, and the dirt had been carried away 
 and thrown into the river, he would go and beg an alms 
 from the shopkeepers and others, who willingly gave it 
 to him. 
 
 He wished that his boys should behave with mod- 
 esty not only in the streets, but also when they were to- 
 gether in the house. " As soon as they were out of bed 
 in the morning, he made them all kneel down and thank 
 God who had kept them that night, and before dinner 
 
90 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 and supper also he made them thank Him." The older 
 boys he used to take with him to the churches, and to 
 talk with them about spiritual things, and of the love of 
 God. And now so much was given to him by those who 
 saw what good he was effecting, that he was able to get 
 new clothes for all his children, and he dressed them in 
 blue stuff, like himself; and when they went to walk in 
 procession, one of them carried before the rest a cross of 
 wood, upon which was cut in large letters the word Ghar- 
 ity, so that many people gave them alms. 
 
 The number of children under his care greatly in- 
 creased ; and not only little boys, but many great boys 
 also, in order not to live like vagabonds about Rome, were 
 glad to be received by Letterato ; and as his means for 
 taking care of them had also increased, he secured a 
 piece of ground near the Porta del Popolo, and there 
 erected a building accommodated to the wants of his 
 charge. He had many little beds of brick made in it, 
 one for each of his boys, and supplied them with straw 
 mattresses and sufficient coverlets. There were tables, 
 also, at which they ate in common ; and he had made in 
 the house, beside, a chapel, in which there was an altar 
 and a large crucifix of wood, before which he and his 
 boys were accustomed to say their prayers. "And I 
 remember," says the writer of his life,. " that, when he 
 showed me this crucifix, pointing toward it with his hand, 
 he said, ' In eo IcBtdbitur cor nostrum ' ; and he said this 
 with so much feeling as plainly showed that he had ear- 
 nest of eternal happiness." 
 
 On one occasion, having been asked how, in the midst 
 
EOME. 91 
 
 of the temptations with which Rome abounded, he could 
 keep his soul pure and his thoughts fixed on prayer, he 
 rephed, " that when a vase was full it could hold nothing 
 more, and that he tried to keep his heart filled with the 
 thoughts of God, and that his aid was the grace of the 
 Lord, who, whenever on our part we do all that we can, 
 never deserts us." " In the care of his poor children," 
 says his friend who describes his life, " he was most de- 
 voted, performing the part of father, of mother, and of 
 nurse, entering at once through his compassion into all 
 their alFections, and serving them in everything, not as 
 poor castaways, abandoned by their parents and by the 
 world, but as if they were angels, and he were serving 
 the Lord himself, who saith, ' What ye have done for 
 one of the least of these, ye have done for me.' 
 
 " He exercised charity also toward many poor stran- 
 gers, providing them with lodging for at least one night, 
 and giving them what aid he could, that they might re- 
 turn to their homes ; and he showed the same care to- 
 ward the poor whom he found in the city, succoring and 
 aiding them in their greatest needs, and especially if 
 they were old, or feeble, or ill-used, or burdened with in- 
 curable diseases, as many are who may be seen every 
 day in the city ; and he extended his charity to poor 
 prisoners also, in their great necessities." 
 
 But his chief labor was always for his children, whom 
 he taught as well as he was able. He qualified the 
 older boys to teach the younger, especially wishing that 
 they should learn their prayers one from another ; but 
 he did not permit the elder to punish the others. This 
 
92 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 he did in order that they should love each other more, 
 and should live in peace and love. 
 
 In this course of life, with constantly increasing use- 
 fulness, Letterato continued for many years. The chil- 
 dren whom he had first taken charge of were succeeded 
 by others, year after year, and all were served by him 
 with a thoroughness and fidelity that never failed. At 
 last, in the autumn of 1594, when he was forty-three years 
 old, he was taken ill with a fever. Anxious to return to 
 his children, he did not give sufficient time to the restorar 
 tion of his health, and having worn himself out with his 
 renewed exertions, early in 1595 he was again attacked 
 by illness. He was taken to the house of Cardinal 
 Federico Borromeo, who had long been one of his 
 friends, and here his last days were surrounded by all the 
 comforts and attention that kindness could render. On 
 the day before his death he sent for his children to come 
 and see him. When they had gathered about his bed, he 
 said that he wished they would sing something to him ; 
 and when the little boy whom he loved best of all asked 
 him what he would like to hear, he answered, that he 
 should like to have them sing 
 
 " Dioo spesso al mio ouore, 
 Solo servendo Dio 1' alma non muore." 
 
 " Often I say to my heart, Only serving God, the 
 soul does not die." 
 
 And when they had sung this, and other spiritual 
 songs, he joined with them in singing, " I have prepared 
 to follow thee, Jesus, my hope, through the rough, hard 
 
ROME. 93 
 
 way, with my cross." When they had finished singing, 
 he said to them, "May God bless you all, my dearest 
 children ! Be good and fear the Lord." Then they took 
 leave of him, and went away crying. The next day, the 
 15th of February, 1595, with words of Christian hope 
 upon his lips, he died. 
 
 The writer of his life says, at the close of his narra- 
 tive, " This is ail I have been able to write now of the 
 life and death of Letterato ; and from this my little work 
 the pious soul may learn at least something of love, if 
 nothing else." 
 
 The usefulness of Letterato did not end with his 
 death. The work begun by him was continued by others, 
 and at the present time an institution for poor children 
 exists in Rome, whose origin may be traced back to the 
 impulse given by his example. 
 
 Rome, May 2gth, 1866. 
 Evening schools, similar to those that have been estab- 
 lished of late in so many American cities, for the instruc- 
 tion of boys who are at work during the day, were com- 
 menced as long ago as 1830 in Home. They owe their 
 origin to Michele Gigli, an advocate, who devoted his life 
 to good works, and died of cholera in 1837, a victim to 
 exhausting efforts for the poor and sick. The idea of 
 evening schools for the purpose of affording instruction 
 to those who can gain it at no other time seems to have 
 been original with him. There are now thirteen of these 
 Schools in different sections of the city, and they are at- 
 tended by no less than a thousand pupils. Their support 
 
94 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 depends wholly upon private energy and private means. 
 The government, although it recognizes and controls their 
 existence, does nothing in aid of them. At the head 
 of each school is an ecclesiastic ; the teaching is given 
 voluntarily and gratuitously, for the most part, by young 
 men of liberal education, who are willing to devote their 
 evenings to the work. A great difficulty is to find 
 teachers enough ; for the schools are open for an hour 
 and a half every evening but Sunday, and there are 
 comparatively few persons who possess sufficient energy 
 and sufficient leisure to attend regularly. One might 
 expect, that, among the priests and friars who overrun 
 Rome, leading inactive lives, enough might be found glad 
 to undertake this duty of teaching. But such is not the 
 case ; — many are indifferent to the work, many are too 
 ignorant to perform it. A few there are willing and 
 able, and among these is the Abate Fabiani, to whose 
 good judgment, intelligent liberality, and energy, much of 
 the. present success and popularity of these schools is 
 due. 
 
 The boys who attend the evening schools are of all 
 ages, from five or six to eighteen or twenty, — from those 
 who are just beginning to learn to read, to those who 
 have made some progress in geometry and in drawing. 
 They advance regularly from the lowest class to the 
 highest, each school being divided into four or more 
 classes. The quickness and intelligence of these boys are 
 very striking to one who has been accustomed to the 
 dulness of intellect that is so often found among the 
 poor children who attend similar schools in our country. 
 
ROME. 95 
 
 while the pleasant looks and good manners of the Roman 
 children speak well for their tempers and the common 
 influences by which they are surrounded. Each class in 
 the school is divided into two parties, one called that of 
 the Carthaginians, the other that of the Eomans, — and 
 the object of each of these parties is to secure the largest 
 number of the little prizes of pencils, or pens, or boxes 
 of instruments, that are given by the instructor at the 
 end of each term. The first boy of each of the parties 
 is called the Imperator, the next two are Generals, and 
 the fourth the Standard-Bearer, — distinctions that are 
 held by the boys as long as they can keep the first places. 
 Many of the scholars being apprenticed at trades which 
 require a considerable degree of mechanical skill, such as 
 cabinet-making, iron and brass work and jewelry, it has 
 been found of great service to carry them through a 
 course of drawing of more than a mere elementary na- 
 ture, and the results have been in the highest degree sat- 
 isfactory. There is a natural aptitude in the Bomans for 
 work of this kind, and the talent of the boys exhibits 
 itself greatly in the facility and beauty of their drawings. 
 The chief difficulty that has to be contended with is 
 the want of good books of instruction. There is no good 
 book, for instance, of reading-lessons for beginners, and 
 no school treatise on geography or history. Such Roman 
 school-literature as there is has, for the most part, been 
 prepared by priests, and is of such a character as to dis- 
 gust children, not only with learning, but with religion. 
 This difiiculty, however, is in the way of being dimin- 
 ished by the prepai'ation of less objectionable books. 
 
96 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 During the month of May, which is especially devoted 
 to the worship of the Virgin, a short spiritual exercise in 
 her honor is conducted by the teachers, in which all the 
 children take part. A picture of Mary hangs in the 
 school-room, and candles are lighted before it, and burn 
 during the service. 
 
 After the school is over, the boys form a procession, 
 and go through the streets to their homes, accompanied 
 by their teachers. Eveiy care is taken, and every pre- 
 caution observed, that the schools shall give no reason- 
 able ground of complaint to the large and influential 
 class of bigots, who regard them with suspicion and dis- 
 trust. Those who are interested in their support are 
 obliged to act with the utmost circumspection, and are 
 checked by continual interference on the part of the ec- 
 clesiastical authorities. 
 
 On Sundays and on feast-days the Abate Fabiani 
 collects the boys of his school, and walks with them, or 
 takes them to some garden where they may amuse them- 
 selves, or visits with them some church. A sincere, 
 devout, and earnest Catholic, he desires to win them 
 through love to good lives, and he exerts the influence he 
 gains over them to make them also. sincere Christians in 
 their turn. On the afternoon of Easter Sunday, I met 
 him with his boys at St. Peter's. It was a sight more 
 touching, and a better representation of the spirit of the 
 gospel of Christ, than all the splendid ceremonial of the 
 morning had been, with its pomp, its glitter, its troops of 
 soldiers, the benediction of the Pope, the fans of peacock's 
 feathers, and the multitude kneeling before the church. 
 
OKVIETO. 
 
 Okvieto, March, 1856. 
 
 In the very heart of Italy, midway between Rome and 
 Florence, in the recesses of the Apennines, lies Orvieto, 
 a city of the Middle Ages, — though its name, said to be 
 a corruption of TJrhs Veius, tells of an ancient and forgot- 
 ten origin. It was never very large, never held great 
 power, never played an important part in the drama of 
 Italian politics, — but the arts of two centuries concen- 
 trated themselves within its walls to produce a single 
 splendid and complete work, and its Cathedral has long 
 given glory to Orvieto, and still renders it one of the 
 chief cities of pilgrimage in Italy. 
 
 Leaving the main road between Eome and Siena a.t 
 Monteflascone, the way turns north-eastward through the 
 low and desolate hills that lie above the gloomy lake of 
 Bolsena. A slow^ ascent leads up to a high and bare 
 table-land, over which the March winds, coming out from 
 the hollows of the mountains, sweep fiercely. The pla- 
 teau suddenly breaks upon a precipitous declivity, and 
 Orvieto, till that moment unseen, appears crowning a 
 rocky height which rises solitary and abrupt from a deap 
 
100 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 valley. So narrow is the valley, that, from the point 
 where the plateau breaks, the city seems almost within 
 musket-shot. But the perfect isolation of the mountain 
 upon which it stands, no spur or ridge connecting it with 
 those that lie nearest to it, makes the approach to the 
 city slow and difEcult, and gives to it a peculiar and strik- 
 ing character of inaccessibility. The truncated oval cone 
 of an extinct volcano, the height lifts itself with almost 
 perpendicular sides for more than seven hundred feet, 
 rising from the valley like a solitary islet of rock. Storms 
 have washed bare its upper steeps, and have heaped up 
 their crumbling debris upon the plain below, forming 
 a broad buttress and embankment of stone and earth 
 around its base. The city with its gray walls set upon 
 the topmost edge of the scarped reddish cliif, with the 
 towers of its churches and the gables and pinnacles of its 
 , Cathedral showing clear against the sky, and shining with 
 various color in the sunlight, looks like a bas-relief ciit on 
 the smooth face of the rock. Near behind it, half encir- 
 cling it, lies an uneven range of brown and purple moun- 
 tains, as if to shut it out from the world in a seclusion of 
 its own. The lower slopes of the height are rich with 
 vineyards, farms, and wide-spread convents set deep in 
 trees. The little Pagha winds through the green valley 
 on its way to the Tiber, and vanishes among the hills. 
 Before the invention of artillery, a city set on such a hill 
 was impregnable by assault, and for many centuries Or- 
 vieto, always faithful to the Guelphs, was a city of refuge 
 for Popes driven out from Borne by its turbulent citizens, 
 or flying at the ajjproach of some foreign enemy. It is a 
 
OEVIETO. 101 
 
 forcible illustration of the sorrowful history of Italy, that 
 so many of her towns should have been built upon the 
 bare tops of hiUs and mountains. 
 
 The city loses something of its apparent beauty as, 
 after the long ascent to its gates, one enters its dark and 
 dirty streets. Its walls are too big for it, for it has 
 shrunk- since they were built. Its palaces are mostly de- 
 serted, more than one of its old churches is neglected, an 
 air of decay pervades it, save only in the square on 
 which its Cathedral stands, where its ancient splendor 
 remains undiminished, and seems even more brilliant 
 than of old, from contrast with the surrounding changes 
 of decline. No city in Italy boasts a more perfect monu- 
 ment of the past munificence and spirit of its people. 
 The seclusion and the decay of Orvieto have been the 
 protection of its Duomo, — ttey have preserved it from 
 the rifling of invaders, and from the defacing processes 
 of restorers. Few buildings of the Middle Ages retain 
 so completely the character of their original design, few 
 afford so full a record of the lives and works of their 
 early builders. 
 
 With the exception of the Cathedral of Siena, there is 
 no church in Italy in which the Italian Gothic appears in 
 freer development of beauty than in this. Architecture, 
 sculpture, and painting, as represented by mosaic, com- 
 bined their powers and lavished their wealth in the con- 
 struction of its three-gabled front. The main lines of 
 construction are, indeed, somewhat meagre, and the flat 
 surfaces of the front fail to produce those grand eflPects 
 of deep shadow which belong to the carved recesses and 
 
102 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 ileep-sunk portals of Northern cathedrals ; but these de- 
 Cects are compensated by the rich sculpture of its marble 
 piers, by the gold and azure of its pictured gables, and 
 by the host of guardian busts and statues set round its 
 central rose-window. It seems like the illuminated page 
 of a marble missal, — the adorned initial letter set at the 
 entrance of the great volume written in st6ne. As the 
 sunlight falls on the gleaming front, — its glowing colors 
 harmonized by the slow artistic processes of time, — it 
 presents a character of beauty unknown to the more 
 sombre Gothic of the North. Nor is the interior of the 
 church unsuitable to its external richness, though the 
 splendor of the outside is tempered within to an impres- 
 sive solemnity. The tall, banded marble columns of the 
 nave, the long procession of statues of apostles at their 
 feet, the frescoes on the walls of choir and chapels, the 
 elaborate carvings of wood and gratings of iron, the 
 mingling of patience, labor, and art in every portion of 
 the work, not only give proof of the fervent spirit of the 
 builders of the Cathedral, but suggest many a devout 
 memory and sacred association. 
 
 The erection of such a building is no solitary and ex- 
 ceptional fact in the history of the community by whom 
 it was accomplished. It is an illustration of the general 
 spirit of their life, of its strongest faith, its deepest emo- 
 tions, its most persistent impulses. The building of 
 cathedrals is, in truth, one of the main features of the 
 social history of Europe during the Middle Ages. In 
 England, in Spain, in France, in the Low Countries, in 
 Germany, in Italy, in Sicily, these magnificent menu- 
 
ORVIETO. 103 
 
 ments of genius and devotion rose in rapid succession dur- 
 ing the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. By a great im- 
 pulse of popular energy, by a long combination of popular 
 eifort with trained skill, cathedrals, each requiring almost 
 the revenues of a kingdom for its construction, sprang 
 up from the soil in the hearts of scores of rival cities. 
 There have -been no works of architecture in later times 
 comparable with them in grandeur of design, in elabo- 
 rateness of detail, in that broad unity of conception which, 
 while leaving the largest scope for the play of fancy and 
 the exercise of special ability by every workman, sub- 
 ordinated the multifarious differences of parts into one 
 harmonious whole. The true cathedral architecture par- 
 took of the qualities which Nature displays in her noblest 
 works, — out of infinite varieties of generally resembling, 
 but intrinsically differing parts, creating a perfect and 
 concordant result. 
 
 But the period during which the great cathedrals were 
 built was comparatively short. After the fourteenth 
 century, the practice of cathedral architectm-e of the old 
 kind fell fast into desuetude. In the fifteenth century, 
 canons of taste were established, and modes of judgment 
 introduced, which, symptomatic as they were of a gen- 
 eral change in the spiritual condition of society, debased 
 the standard of an art whose capacities of execution 
 were daily growing more limited. The traditional knowl- 
 edge of the methods of the unrivalled masters of two 
 centuries before, such masters as Erwin von Steinbach, 
 Arnolfo di Lapo, and Lorenzo Maitani, rapidly died 
 out. The Renaissance — the birth of a pseudo-classi- 
 
104 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 citm — was the destruction of Gothic architecture. The 
 rules of Vitruvius were studied as the only rules of 
 desirable and excellent building. The original works of 
 the time between the fall of the Roman Empire and the 
 irruption of Eoman literature were esteemed barbarous 
 and unworthy of admiration. Architecture was hence- 
 forth to be imitative. It is a curious fact, that at Rome 
 itself there is not one truly Gothic church. Whatever 
 may be the architectural merit of St. Peter's, it, is not 
 to be compared, in originality of conception or in thought- 
 fulness of detail, with any of the great Gothic buildings. 
 It belongs to the architecture of the intellect, — not to 
 that of the imagination. Its chief feature is its size, not 
 its design. St. Peter's is contemporaneous with the Ref- 
 ormation, and the character of the religiojn of the Papal 
 court at that time is well perpetuated in a church, built 
 less as a place of worship than as a magnificent theatre 
 for the splendid displays of Papal ceremonials. Protes- 
 tantism failed to protest against the style of ecclesiastical 
 architecture characteristic of Rome, but, on the contrary, 
 often strangely adopted it for its own churches, and not 
 infrequently turned its iconoclastic zeal against the more 
 ancient style', which, though sometimes embodying the 
 extremest superstitions, embodied also the expression of 
 a real, if a mistaken, piety. 
 
 The best Gothic architecture, indeed, wherever it may 
 be found, affords evidence that the men who executed it 
 were moved by a true fervor of religious faith. In 
 building a church, they did not forget that it was to be 
 the house of God. No portion of their building was too 
 
OEVIETO. 105 
 
 minute, no portion too obscure, to be perfected with thor- 
 ough and careful labor. The work was not let out by 
 contract, or taken up as a profitable job. The architect 
 of a cathedral might live all his life within the shadow 
 of its rising walls, and die no richer than when he gave 
 the sketch ; but he was well repaid by the delight of see- 
 ing his design grow from an imagination to a reality, and 
 by spending his days in the accepted service of the Lord. 
 
 For the building of a cathedral, however, there needs 
 not only a spirit of religious zeal among the workmen, 
 but a faith no less ardent among the people for whom the 
 church is designed. The enormous expense of construc- 
 tion, an expense which for generations must be con- 
 tinued without intermission, is not to be met except by 
 liberal and willing general contributions. Papal indul- 
 gences and the offerings of pilgrims may add something 
 to the revenues, but the main cost of building must be 
 borne by the community over whose house-tops the 
 cathedral is to rise and to extend its benign protection. 
 
 Cathedrals were essentially expressions of the popu- 
 lar will and the popular faith. They were the work 
 neither of ecclesiastics nor of feudal barons. They 
 represent, in a measure, the decline of feudalism, and 
 the prevalence of the democratic element in society. 
 No sooner did a city achieve its freedom than its people 
 began to take thought for a cathedral. Of all the arts, 
 architecture is the most quickly responsive to the in- 
 stincts and the desires of a people. And in the ca- 
 thedrals, the popular beliefs, hopes, fears, fancies, and 
 aspirations found expression, and were perpetuated in a 
 
106 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 language intelligible to all. The life of the Middle Ages 
 is recorded on their walls. When the democratic ele- 
 ment was subdued, as in Cologne by a Prince Bishop, 
 or in Milan by a succession of tyrants, the cathedral 
 was left unfinished. When, in the fifteenth century, all 
 over Europe, the turbulent, but energetic liberties ofv 
 the people were suppressed, the building of cathedrals 
 ceased. 
 
 The grandeur, beauty, and lavish costliness of the 
 Duomo at Orvieto, or of any other of the greater cathe- 
 drals, implies a persistency and strength of purpose 
 which could be the result only of the influence over the 
 souls of men of a deep and abiding emotion. Minor 
 motives may often have borne a part in the excitement 
 of feeling, — motives of personal ambition, civic pride, 
 boastfulness, and rivalry ; but a work that requires the ■ 
 combined and voluntary offerings and labor of successive 
 generations presupposes a condition of the higher spirit- 
 ual nature which no motives but those connected with 
 religion are sufficient to support. It becomes, then, a 
 question of moi-e than merely historic interest, a question, 
 indeed, touching the very foundation of the spiritual de- 
 velopment and civilization of modern Europe, to investi- 
 gate the nature and origin of that wide-spread impulse 
 which, for two centuries, led the people of different races 
 and widely diverse habits of life and thought, to the 
 construction of cathedrals, — buildings such as our own 
 age, no less than those which have immediately preceded 
 it, seems incompetent to execute, and indifferent to at- 
 tempt. 
 
OEVIETO. 107 
 
 It is impossible to fix a precise date for the first signs 
 of vigorous and vital conscioiTsness which gave token 
 of the birth of a new life out of the dead remains of the 
 ancient world. The tenth century is often spoken of as 
 the darkest period of the Dark Ages ; but even in its 
 dull sky there were some breaks of light, and, very soon 
 after it had passed, the dawn began to brighten. The 
 epoch of the completion of a thousand years from the 
 birth of Christ, which had, almost from the first preach- 
 ing of Christianity, been looked forward to as the time 
 for the destruction of the world and the advent of the 
 Lord to judge the earth, had passed without the fulfil- 
 ment of these ecclesiastical prophecies and popular an- 
 ticipations. There can be little doubt that among the 
 mass of men there was a sense of relief, naturally fol- 
 lowed by a certain invigoration of spirit. The eleventh 
 century was one of comparative intellectual vigor. The 
 twelfth was still more marked by mental activity and 
 force. The world was fairly awake. Civilization was 
 taking the first steps of its modern course. The relations 
 of the various classes of society were changing. A wider 
 liberty of thought and action was established ; and while 
 this led to a fresh exercise of individual power and char- 
 acter, it conduced also to combine men together in new 
 forms of united eifort for the attainment of common ob- 
 jects and in the pursuit of common interests. 
 
 Corresponding with, but perhaps subsequent by a short 
 interval to the pervading intellectual movement, was a 
 strong and quickening development of the moral sense 
 among men. The periods distinguished in modern his- 
 
108 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 tory by a condition of intellectual excitement and fervor 
 have been usually, perEaps always, followed at a short 
 interval by epochs of more or less intense moral energy, 
 which has borne a near relation to the nature of the 
 moral elements in the previous intellectual movement. 
 The Renaissance, an intellectual period of pure immoral- 
 ity, was followed close by the Reformation, whose first 
 characteristic was that of protest. The Elizabethan age> 
 in which the minds of men were full of large thoughts, 
 and their imaginations rose to the highest flights, led in 
 the noble sacrifices, the great achievements, the wild 
 vagaries of Puritanism. The age of Voltaire and the 
 infidels w^as followed by the fierce energy, the infidel 
 morality of the French Revolution. And so at this 
 earlier period, the general intellectual awakening, char- 
 acterized as it was by simple impulses, and regulated 
 in great measure by the teachings of the Church, pro- 
 duced a strong outbreak of moral earnestness which 
 exhibited itself in curiously similar forms through the 
 whole of Europe. 
 
 The distinguishing feature of this moral revolution was 
 the purely religious direction which it took. For a time 
 it seemed that the moral sense of men had become one 
 with their religious instincts and emotions. Religion lost 
 its formality, and the religious creed of the times pos- 
 sessed itself thoroughly of the spirits of men. The 
 separation which commonly exists between the professed 
 faith of the masses of men and their intimate moral 
 convictions, the separation between faith expressed in 
 words and faith expressed in actions, was in large meas- 
 
OEVIETO. 109 
 
 ure closed over. The creed even of the most intelligent 
 was very imperfect. It was based on material concep- 
 tions, and was far from corresponding with the higher 
 spiritual truths of Christianity. The creed of the igno- 
 rant was, for the most part, a system of irrational and 
 .contradictory opinions, in which a few simple notions of a 
 material heaven and hell held the first rank. But these 
 notions were believed in as realities. And, moreover, in 
 accordance with a general law of human nature, the very 
 materialism of the common creed afforded nourishment 
 to religious mysticism and the ecstasies of devotion. 
 
 It is at such times as this, when moral energy corre- 
 sponds with and supports a condition of spiritual enthu- 
 siasm, that the powers of men rise to their highest level. 
 Personal interests are absorbed in devotion to great spir- 
 itual ideas. Enthusiasm neither submits to the common 
 laws of reason, nor is bound by the established customs 
 of society. It makes its abode in the New Jerusalem, 
 and builds for itself mystical mansions of the spirit. But 
 it must find external expression, and must relieve itself 
 in action ; for, when the full tide of faith floods the heart, 
 it brings to the soul a sense of strength above its own, 
 and compels it to its exercise. Thus, at this period, the 
 religious excitement found vent in two extraordinary and 
 utterly unparalleled expressions, — the Crusades and the 
 Cathedrals. And the depth of the inward feeling was mar- 
 vellously manifested by the long Succession of exhausting 
 efforts, by the persistence of hope, and by the actual 
 accomplishment of woi'ks of the grandest design, during 
 a course of more than two hundred years. Energy 
 
110 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 and enthusiasm had become, as it were, hereditary among 
 men. A real faith in the Divine government of the earth, 
 trust in the Divine power, zeal in the service of God, 
 combined witli selfish hopes and fears, and with heathen 
 notions of propitiation, to inspire the various people of 
 Europe with strength for the most arduous undertakings. 
 Deus vult was the animating watchword of the times ; the 
 cross was the universal symbol, — a symbol not merely 
 of sacrifice, but of victory. 
 
 Such spiritual conditions as were then exhibited are 
 possible only during periods of mental twilight, when the 
 imagination is stronger than the reason, and shows the 
 objects of this world in fanciful and untrue proportion. 
 With the advance of civilization and enlightenment, pop- 
 ular enthusiasm becomes more and more rare, and, as a 
 stimulus to combined and long-continued action, almost 
 wholly ceases. Principles of one sort or another occupy, 
 but do not supply its place. The works which it has 
 produced cannot be repeated ; for in their production it 
 counts no cost extravagant, no labor vain, which makes 
 them worthier offerings of faith, and more perfect ex- 
 pressions of devotion. 
 
 The general features of the religious excitement which 
 began in the eleventh century are thus broadly marked 
 and easily stated. The chief historic facts of the time 
 are sufficiently clear. The details of the Crusades are, 
 for the most part, well known ; but much obscurity still 
 rests over the manner in which the popular impulses took 
 form in the building of cathedrals. The old chronicles, 
 full of battles and sieges, have little space for accounts of 
 
OEVIETO. Ill 
 
 the great works which were going on within the walls 
 of quiet towns, and in the chief squares of busy cities. 
 The records of building, with all the illustration they 
 might afiFord of the thoughts, feelings, and ways of life 
 of the people, have in great part perished. Here and 
 there something more than the mere name of the archi- 
 tect and the date of construction has been preserved ; but 
 the lives and labors of the builders, the modes of work, 
 the zeal of the community, are, for the most part, only to 
 be inferred from the character of the building itself. 
 
 Fortunately, the position and the circumstances of Or- 
 vieto, and the fact that its cathedral was not begun till a 
 comparatively late date, have been favorable to the pres- 
 ervation of a mass of records which throw a vivid light, 
 not only on the methods of construction, but also on the 
 character and customs of the builders and, the people of 
 the town, during the thirteenth, fourteenth, and even the 
 fifteenth centuries.* 
 
 The immediate motive for the erection of this cathe- 
 dral is to be found in one of the most famous events of 
 the dogmatic history of the Middle Ages, and by this 
 
 * The subsequent narrative is derived, in great measure, from the 
 SUma del Ducmo di Orvieto. [Dal Padre 6. della Valle.] 4to. Roma, 
 1790. The most valuable part of the volume is the long appendix 
 of Documents, taken mostly from the manuscript records of the 
 Duomo. The volume of plates in folio, which accompanies the 
 Padre della Valle's work, contains representations of some of the 
 most important works of Art in the Cathedral, and is of much value 
 as illustrating the history of Italian Art. There is no other building 
 in Italy which surpasses the Duomo of Orvieto as a storehouse of 
 precious Works. 
 
112 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 circumstance the building is connected in close associa- 
 tion with one of the most wide-spread and splendid cere- 
 monials of the Roman Church. This event was the 
 Miracle of Bolsena, from which the festival of the Cor- 
 pus Domini, celebrated wherever the Roman Church 
 extends, takes its date. It is one of the chief glories of 
 the Church Triumphant. 
 
 In the year 1263, Pope Urban IV., flying from dan- 
 gers that surrounded him in Rome, '■^ poco fidandosi di 
 qtbeW istabih dttadinanza," retired to the safe refuge of 
 Orvieto. All Italy was in a wretched state of turbulence 
 and war. But on this solitary and inaccessible rock there 
 was quiet, and within the shelter of its friendly walls 
 the Pope might dwell securely. And here also, at this 
 time, Thomas Aquinas, the most famous man .of his 
 age, who was even then stamping the impress of his 
 thought upon the whole system of Romanist doctrine, 
 had taken up his abode, and was giving public instruc- 
 tion in a course of lectures on theology. One day, in 
 the summer of the next year, according to the tradition, 
 the Pope was surprised at the sudden appearance of 
 a strange priest, who, in great agitation, threw himself 
 at his feet, and with tears, confessing his past want 
 of faith, and praying for absolution from his sin, re- 
 lated the following story. He said that he was a Ger- 
 man priest, that he had long been troubled with doubts 
 as to the Real Presence in the Holy Sacrifice of the 
 Mass, and that, "in hope of removing such pernicious 
 questionings from his soul, he had undertaken a pilgrim- 
 age to Rome for the purpose of strengthening his faith 
 
ORVIETO. 113 
 
 at the tombs of the Apostles. He had reached the little 
 town of Bolsena, which has just on the border of the 
 lake to which it has given its name, and within the 
 diocese of Orvieto, and there had engaged in the cele- 
 bration of the Mass. But in the very midst of the 
 service he was assa,iled by his old doubts, when, to his 
 wonder and dismay, as he raised the consecrated wafer 
 and broke it, he beheld drops of blood falling from it 
 upon the sacred napkin laid under the chalice, and, as 
 they touched the linen cloth, spreading out upon it into 
 the likeness of the Saviour's countenance.* 
 
 * One of the series of Raphael's pictures of the Church Trium- 
 phant in the Stanze of the Vatican has made the scene of this miracle 
 familiar. His imagination does not seem to have been touched by the 
 subject, and the picture is a mere fancy piece, cold in feeling and 
 devoid of any expression of faith. 
 
 A miracle of similar character to that of Bolsena is reported to have 
 occurred at Canterbury, in the time of St. Odo, about the middle of 
 the tenth century. Some of the priests of Canterbury were troubled 
 with doubts like those by which the German priest was possessed. 
 The Saint prayed that these doubts might be removed, and dur- 
 ing the performance of the Mass, at the brealting of the Host, blood 
 dropped from it into the chalice. By this miracle the doubters were 
 brought into the true faith. — See Butler's lAves of the Saints : St. 
 Odo. — Many similar miracles are reported as having taken place in 
 Spain. " No Christian country," says Mr. Ford, " has offered more 
 wonderful evidences of the fact " of a corporeal presence in the Host. 
 At Ivorra, a portion of a consecrated wafer is preserved, called Lo 
 Samt Dupie, "the Holy Doubt," from which blood gushed out, to con- 
 found a doubting priest; — at Daroca, in New Castile, is the tradition 
 of Zos Santos Corporales, — six Hosts, which, in 1239, being hidden 
 from the Moors, turned to bleeding flesh. 
 
 Thus has the Roman Church corporealized a. spiritual symbol, — 
 disregarding both the meaning and the letter of its institution. A 
 
114 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 The miracle occurred at a fortunate time, not only for 
 the removal of the doubts of the German priests, but for 
 the interests of the Koman Church, by affording a decisive 
 argument against the heretical doctrines in regard to the 
 Real Presence, which had spread widely among the ranks 
 of the clergy, and had excited much alarm in the minds 
 of the ecclesiastical authorities. Urban, rejoicing at so 
 signal a display of the divine grace, at once dispatched 
 the Bishop of Orvieto to Bolsena to bring back the 
 sacred corporale or napkin, for safe-keeping in his imme- 
 diate possession. The next day the Holy Father himself 
 descended to the valley, attended by his Cardinals, the 
 officers of his court, the chief citizens, and many of the 
 common people, to meet the Bishop on his return. The 
 two processions, — for the Bishop came accompanied by 
 great numbers of the people of Bolsena and the neigh- 
 boring towns, filled with excitement at the news of the 
 prodigy, — the two processions met at the bridge of Rio- 
 chiaro. The Pope fell upon his knees in adoration of 
 the sacred cloth, and, taking it in his hands, bore it up 
 the hill to a place of secure deposit in the episcopal 
 church of Orvieto. It is said that for use on this solemn 
 and memorable occasion, Thomas Aquinas composed the 
 service which is still employed on the recurring anniver- 
 saries of the day in the Roman churches the world over. 
 Urban published a bull, in which he appointed Thursday 
 
 natural explanation "has been suggested for these miracles, in the 
 fact that under certain conditions blood-red animalcula are found in 
 some sorts of flour, and in the bread made from it, in quantities suflB- 
 oient to produce the effects suppo^d to be miraculous. 
 
ORVIETO. 115 
 
 of the week after Pentecost as the day on which, in each 
 year, the festival of Corpus ChriSti should he celebrated, 
 and a new dogma was added, by authority, to the creed 
 of the Church. 
 
 " Tantum ergo saoramentum 
 
 Veneremur cernni ; 
 Et antiquum dooumentum 
 
 Novo oedat ritui; 
 Praestat fides supplementum 
 
 Sensnum defeotui." 
 
 "Whatever opinion may be held as to the reality of the 
 asserted miracle, there is a concurrence of authorities as 
 to the fact of the popular belief in it, and of the relig- 
 ious enthusiasm that followed on this belief among the 
 citizens of Orvieto and the neighboring districts. Some 
 time, however, elapsed before this enthusiasm exhibited 
 itself in any permanent external manifestation. By de- 
 grees, the idea of a new and splendid church, in which 
 the miraculous corporah should be preserved for all 
 future time, and which should serve not only as a fitting 
 memorial of the miracle, but also as a proof of the devo- 
 tion of the citizens to the Virgin Mother of God, seems 
 to have taken root in the minds of the people, and per- 
 haps the more easily from a feeling of rivalry between 
 Orvieto and its neighbor, Siena, in which latter city a 
 splendid cathedral had been begun half a century be- 
 fore, and was now approaching its superb, though imper- 
 fect completion. 
 
 The first document that has been found relating to the 
 proposed building bears date the 22d day of June, 1284, 
 
116 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 and in this the project " of erecting a new and honorable 
 church in honor of God and the Blfessed Virgin Mary" 
 is spoken of as one that has been for a long time enter- 
 tained. It is amusing, as an illustration of the persis- 
 tency of one of the minor traits of human nature, that 
 the earliest records of the Cathedral should relate to a 
 quarrel between the members of a sort of preliminary 
 building-committee — the Bishop and his chapter — con- 
 cerning the arrangement to be made between them in 
 regard to the ground, in which they had joint interest, 
 upon which the new church was to stand. The difficulty 
 was not settled without the intervention of the Papal 
 authority, and it was not until the year 1290 that the 
 work of construction was actually begun. 
 
 The 13th of November, the day of San Brizio, the 
 patron saint of the city, was chosen as the day for laying 
 the corner-stone of the great edifice. " And so," says 
 one of the chroniclers, " the Pope, Nicholas IV., being in 
 Orvieto, with the Court of Cardinals and other Prelates, 
 there was a solemn procession, with His Holiness at its 
 head, followed by Cardinals, Archbishops, Bishops, and 
 other Prelates, by the Clergy of the city, with the Magis- 
 trates, the Podesta, the Captain, the Seniors, and all the 
 Council, with infinite numbers of gentlemen and citi- 
 zens, women and children. And the Pope went down to 
 the foundations, and with his own hand placed the first 
 stone in the mortar, and with many other ceremonies 
 blessed the future temple in secula seculorum.'' 
 
 Lorenzo Maitani of Siena had given the design for 
 the church, and had been appointed the chief architect. 
 
OEVIETO. 117 
 
 A better choice could not have been made. Already the 
 means for carrying forward the work had been provided 
 by free-will offerings, by lands given in fee by their pro- 
 prietors, by taxes imposed by the magistracy, by annual 
 tributes laid upon territory subject to the city, as well as 
 by the offerings of many churches far and near, and of 
 the pilgrims who were annually attracted to Orvieto by 
 the fame of a miracle-working picture of the Madonna, 
 which had been given to the city, according to tradition, 
 by its patron saint. 
 
 Nor was the work left to depend simply on the gen- 
 eral interest and zeal, unwarmed by special incitements. 
 The Pope bestowed liberal indulgences on those who took 
 part in forwarding it by contributions or by labor, and his 
 example in this respect was followed in after times by 
 his successors. The list of contributions to the building 
 during the first year gives a curious, glimpse of the char- 
 acter of the times, and of the means used for the execu- 
 tion of such a work. It begins thus : — 
 
 Urbevetelium solvit Cereum librarum XV. Marcus II. Bra- 
 vium aureorum VIII.,* 
 
 * The word iravium, or blamum, seems to be a corruption of pal- 
 Mum. Thus, in an extract from the Florentine Archives, (Gaye, Car- 
 t&ggio, I. 449,) we read, " 60 fityireni avjri et sol. 12 pro preiio blavii 
 seu palii dmariim petiarmn samiii piled." It was used to designate 
 rich cloth of various sorts for tapestry, hangings of churches, prizes 
 at games and races, and must have borne a ready marketable value. 
 " 11 drappo verde " of Verona {Inferno, XV. 122) was, no doubt, a 
 bravium. Probably part of the bravia, as well as of the wax contrib- 
 uted to the church, was used in church ceremonies, and part was 
 sold. 
 
118 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 which may be translated, " Orvieto paid fifteen pounds of 
 wax, two [silver] marks, and cloth of the value of eight 
 gold pieces." The town of Clusium, more liberal than 
 Orvieto itself, sent thirty pounds of wax, two marks, 
 four horses, and five hundred loads of grain. Little Mon- 
 tepulciano even, from the small resources of her vine- 
 growing hill, sent fifteen pounds of wax, two marks, and 
 two horses. The abbey Sancti Salvatoris made a liberal 
 offering. Aquapendente, San Lorenzo, Bolsena, which 
 appears on the list as Volsinium, recalling its ancient 
 fame, Radicofani, and many other towns near and far, 
 gave contributions according to their zeal or means. 
 The Lord of Farnese, Count Guido of Santa Flora, the 
 Lord of the Sons of the Bear [Orsini] of Mugnano, and 
 numerous feudal barons beside, gave horses, wax, and 
 grain to the new church. Altogether, the contributions 
 recorded for this year from towns and barons amount to 
 731 pounds of wax, 24 marks, 29 horses, 3,858 loads of 
 grain, and hravia worth 84 gold pieces. Nor does this 
 list include the more numerous minor offerings of pil- 
 grims and citizens to the treasury of the works. The 
 gifts of horses must have been of especial value, from 
 the fact that the materials for building were all to be 
 brought from a distance, and to be carried up the diffi- 
 cult ascent to the very crest of the mountain of Orvieto. 
 The labor of transportation added vastly to the costli- 
 ness of the edifice, but the spirit in which it was under- 
 taken was sufficient to overcome whatever obstacles op- 
 posed themselves to its progress. 
 
 The great foundations were scarcely \a.\A, fundamentfi 
 
OBVIETO. 119 
 
 quce fuerunt terrihilia ad videndum, before a Board of 
 Works was established by the popular authorities of the 
 city, to superintend and direct the erection of the Cathe- 
 dral. It was, in fact, a special magistracy with full pow- 
 ers, so far as their charge extended, but bound to render, 
 from time to time, an account of the income and the ex- 
 penses to the representatives of the people. The consti- 
 tution of the government of Orvieto seems to have been 
 democratic, except in so far as the powers of the elective 
 magistracy were subordinate to the authority of the 
 Pope, or of his delegates. That there was rarely any 
 collision between the Papal and the popular will may be 
 inferred from the fact, that, after the twelfth century, dur- 
 ing some part of which Orvieto was troubled by heresy, 
 through the most violent and divided times, the city re- 
 mained attached and faithful to the interests and the 
 party of the Papacy. 
 
 For some years the Cathedral advanced rapidly. In- 
 deed, so speedy was its progress, that in the year 1298, 
 Boniface VIII., a Pope familiar to the readers of Dante, 
 celebrated a pontifical service within its unfinished in- 
 closure, on the festival of the Assumption of the Vir- 
 gin. The work of laying the foundation and the lower 
 walls not demanding the continual presence of the archi- 
 tect, Maitani remained at his native Siena, coming to 
 Orvieto only as occasion might require. But in the year 
 1310, twenty years after the laying of the comer-stone, 
 the building having risen so far that his constant over- 
 sight was needed, and some portions of the completed 
 work showing symptoms of weakness, Maitani was in- 
 
120 TEAVEL AND STDDY IN ITALY. 
 
 vited to become a citizen of Orvieto, with promise of a 
 monthly salary " of twelve florins of good and pure gold, 
 and of just weight," with leave to bring such scholars as 
 he might wish, who should be employed upon the build- 
 ing, with the provision that he and his family should be 
 exempt from every tax and burden, and with permis- 
 sion to himself to wear whatever arms he might choose. 
 Upon these terms he came, and from his coming may be 
 dated the second, and, in relation to Art, the most im- 
 portant period in the building of the Cathedral. The 
 fagade had already reached a considerable height, and 
 now began to exhibit that lavish display of works of the 
 various arts which still makes it one of the chief glories 
 of Italy. 
 
 The immense amount of labor employed in the con- 
 struction, and of labor of the most diverse description, 
 from the highest efforts of the inventive imagination, to 
 the simplest mechanical hammering of blocks of stone, 
 led to a careful organization of the whole body of work- 
 men, and to the setting aside of a special building, the 
 Loggia, on the Cathedral square, for the use of the mas- 
 ters in the different arts. Each art had its chief, and 
 over all presided " the Master of the Masters," skilled no 
 less in painting, mosaic, and sculpture, than in architec- 
 ture. The larger number of the most accomplished artists 
 came at this time from Siena and Pisa, where the growth 
 of the arts had a little earlier spring than in Florence.* 
 
 * The following passage from a letter of the Heads of the People, 
 / PresicU del Popoh, to the Signiory of Siena, dated 12th May, 1409, 
 shows the high place which the master-workmen of the latter city 
 
ORVIETO. 121 
 
 "Whatever designs and models were required for any 
 portion of the work were first submitted for a{Jproval to 
 the head of the special art to which they belonged, and, if 
 afiproved by him', were then laid before the Master of the 
 Hasters, and the Board of Superintendents of the Work. 
 These officers occupied a house opposite the front of the 
 Duomo, in which they assembled for deliberation, and 
 Where the records of their proceedings were kept in due 
 form by a notary, who every week registered the works 
 accomplished, the cost of materials, and the wages of 
 those employed on the building.* 
 
 Beside the masters and men at work at Orvieto, many 
 others were distributed in various parts of Italy, em- 
 ployed in obtaining materials, and especially in quarrying 
 and cutting marble for the Cathedral, f Black marble 
 
 had held for more than a century at Orvieto : — " Vestrique cives in 
 honore eximio magistratus tam incliti operis obtineant prinoipatum a 
 primordio fundaraenti." Gaye, Carteggio, I. 89. 
 
 * This office was established in 1321, and the Padre della Valle, 
 writing at the end of the last century, says, " It has lasted even to 
 the present day." A delightful instance of permanence. 
 
 t In the summer of 1321 more than fifty masters of the various arts 
 were receiving pay in the service of the Faibrica. Not quite half of 
 this number were employed at Orvieto itself ; the others'were else- 
 where overseeing the preparation of materials. A great part of the 
 shaping of the marbles and timber for use in the building -vvas per- 
 formed at the places from which they were obtained, in order to di- 
 minish the cost of oai-riage. The preparation of working drawings to 
 send to the different stations of work must have been one of the most 
 important occupations of the masters who remained at Orvieto. Of 
 the number of worltmen not yet inscribed as masters in their respec- 
 tive arts there seems to be no record; but it must have been very 
 large. 
 
122 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 was got from the CLuarries near Siena, alabaster from 
 Sant' Antimo, near Radicofani, and white marble from 
 the mountains of Carrara. But the supply of the rich- 
 est and rarest marbles came from Rome, the ruins of 
 whose ancient magnificence afforded ample stpres of cost- 
 liest material to the builders not only of the Papal city 
 itself, but of Naples, of Orvieto, and of many another 
 Italian town. The Greek statuary marbje, which had 
 once formed part of some ancient temple, was trang-. 
 fe,rred,to the hands of the new sculptors, to be worked 
 into forms far different in character and in execution 
 from those of Grecian Art. The accumulated riches 
 of Pagan Rome were distributed for the adornment of 
 Christian churches. 
 
 To destroy the remains of Paganism was regarded as 
 a scarcely less acceptable service than to erect new build- 
 ings for Christian worship. Petrarch had not yet begun 
 to lament the barbarism of such destruction. The beauty 
 of the ancient world was recognized as yet only by a few 
 artists, powerless to save its vanishing remains. Not yet 
 had the intoxicating sense of this beauty begun to re- 
 corrupt and reeffeminate Italy.' A century later, Rome 
 began to preserve in part the few remaining memorials 
 of her ancient splendor; and not many yea,r.s after, the 
 Renaissance, with its degraded taste and debasing prin- 
 ciples, set in, and the influence of ancient Art on mod- 
 ern morals was displayed. 
 
 The workmen who labored in quarrying at Rome dur- 
 ing the winter retired in summer to the healthy heights 
 of the Alban mountains, and there, among the ruins 
 
ORYIETO. 123 
 
 of ancient villas, . continued their worfcj and! thence dis- 
 patched the blocks, on wagons' drawn by huffaloes,, to 
 their distant' destination. Tfe eotries-in tbetbook-rof ■ the 
 records of . the. Fabhricai s\io-w with what i a network; of i 
 laborers,; ja the seryiee ofi the 'Gatbedral^ the neighboring 
 pKQVJBiees - were ov«spread<, Tbius, . undeiri' data; of, the. 
 ISthof; Septenabepj 13,21) there is aai entry of the ex» 
 pense. • o£- thsi ■ traiaspiaiit of "marbteji ikwi i of. tra vertiae imi 
 coarsft work, from; Vajle deli Qej-o,. frbnati BaxoittoMyfrom: 
 TitoJ%; and frooa Riga on , the Tiber,; l and oniitfe' llthS 
 of rthia satae. njio^th!,! sixty floriBs of; gold aMllfoIuarteenifoVe 
 ia silveri were, paid i for the transport," with' sixteen/ , pairs 
 c^( buffiiloes, fjonasithe, forest of Aspretoloy ofisixteeoi loads 
 of ifii? tiqaber focithe, soiJitLof i thiei CathedralJ and one. beami 
 of Ttkse largest size,. Again^ there; is am entryvof i the- pay- 
 mient, for, bringing four greati pjeoestofi marbte, of the 
 weight of: "8,1 00' pounds, from, the quarter oi" Sta,Paii'l[at. 
 Borne, and a<little later another for 14,250/ pouads- of 
 marblej also, from Rome. On. the 21stiof Junei, .nine' feVe 
 and I eleyeni . soldi ; had ; been ; spent , ini i the, purehiasei of, an. 
 ass, — "quern somarium, Mag. Laurentius cappi > Magys-t 
 tf0rmmiyp&ns.et Oatnwavius emef^nt,pr,o poi'ian&.'.ferris 
 etfrelms Miigistwrum. /operis Bmnam." From the quarry 
 of iMontepiaJ came, loads ofrmarble for -the mam:: portal 
 and for,: the side-doors,; and from Arezzo, famous of old 
 fort-its red; vases, was brought: claly for.the. g^3S>-furaace 
 for the .making of mosaics. On. the 3d of August, a mes- 
 senger was dispatched ;with; letters from the acchitecfrito 
 the. workmen at. A^&non " Magistris operis qui laborant 
 marmora apud Oasimm ,Albd.ni, propei Urbem," Such. 
 
124 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 entries as these extend over many years, and show, not 
 only the activity displayed in the building, bat also its 
 enormous costliness, and the long foresight and wide 
 knowledge of means required in its architect. 
 
 Trains of wagons, loaded with material for the Cathe- 
 dral, made their slow progress toward the city from the 
 north and ■ the south, from the shores of the Adriatic 
 and of the Mediterranean. The heavy carts which had 
 creaked under their burdens along the solitudes of the 
 Oampagna or the Maremma, which had toiled up the for^ 
 est-icovered heights that overhang' Viterbo, through the 
 wild i passes of I Monte Cimino, or whose shouting team- 
 sters had held back their straining buffaloes down the 
 bare sides of thie mountains of Radicofani, arrived in un- 
 ending succession in the valley of the Paglia. The worst 
 part of the way; however, still lay before them in the 
 steep ascent to the uplifted city. But here the zeal of 
 voluntary labor came in to lighten the work of the tug- 
 ging buffaloes; Bands of citizens enrolled themselves to 
 drag the carts up the rise of the mountain, — and on feast- 
 days the people of- the neighboring towns flocked in to 
 take their share in the work, and to gain the indulgences 
 offered to those who should give a helping handv We 
 may imagine these processions of laborers in the service 
 of the house of the Lord advancing to the sound of the 
 singing of i hymns or the chanting of penitential psalms ; 
 but of these scenes no formal description has been left. 
 The enthusiasm which was displayed was of the same 
 order as that which, a century before, had been shown at 
 the building of the magnificent Cathedral of Cliartres, 
 
OR VIET 0. 125 
 
 but probably less intense in its expression, owing to the 
 change in the spirit of the times. Then men and women, 
 sometimes to. the number of a thousand, of all ranks and 
 conditions, harnessed themselves to the wagons loaded 
 with materials for building, or with supplies for the work- 
 men. No one was admitted into the company who did 
 not first make confession of his sins, "and lay down at 
 the foot of ;the, altar all hatred and anger." As cart after 
 cart was. dragged in by its band of devotees, it was set in 
 its place in a circle of wagons around the church. 'Can- 
 dles were lighted upon them all, as upon so many altars. 
 At night the people watched, singing 'hymns and songs 
 of praise, or inflicting discipline upon themsdves, with 
 prayers for the forgiveness of their sins. 
 
 Processions of Juggernaut, camp-meetings, the excite- 
 ments o{ a revival, are exhibitions, under :anather form, 
 of the spirit shown in these enrolments of the people as 
 beasts of burden. Such excitements rarely leave any 
 noble or permanent result. But it was the distinctive 
 characteristic of this period of religious enthusiasm that 
 there were men honestly partaking in the general emo- 
 tion, yet of suah strong individuality of genius, that, in- 
 stead of being carried away by the wasteful current of 
 feeling, they were able to guide aind control to great and 
 noble purposes the impulsive activity and bursting ener- 
 gies of the tiffiie. 'Religious excitements, so called, of 
 whatever kind, imply one of two things, — either a mor- 
 bid state of the physical or mental system, or a low and 
 materialistic conception of the truths of the spiritual life. 
 They belong as much to the body as to the soul, and they 
 
il26 TEAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 seek vent'for the energies they arousfe in physiedl taiai- 
 festations. Bacween the groaning of a set'of misfetable 
 sinners'on the anxious «eats, and the toiling of men and 
 women at the ropes of carts 'laden with stone for achurdh, 
 there is a close "relation. The cause ElhS nature of the 
 emotion which influences them are the same. 'The dif- 
 ference of its mode <of exhibition arises 'from origiiial 
 differences of character, from changes in religious creeds, 
 from the varied circumstances of different agfes. It j$ 
 a difference exhibited in 'the contrast between the 'baris 
 boards lof a Methodist meeting-honse and the carve3 
 walls of a CathcJlic cathedral. 
 
 -It was the fear of hell, rather than the hope of heav- 
 en, which, working in men's minds, lay at 'the foundation 
 of iihese mediseval achievements. Unless the conception 
 of heaven ibe lowered to that of a, Maihometan para- 
 dise, unless heaven be made the scene of merely sen- 
 sual delights, it is more difficult for the imagination to 
 behold its promised joys as -realities than to picture to 
 itself the actual existence of the coarse and earthy tor- 
 ments of the vcflgar notion of hell. The Chiifch has 
 found its power easily increased by sttengffliening the 
 force and domination of the dread of future puni^mCnt. 
 For the God of love it substitated the God of vengeance. 
 The popular fancy dwelt continually on the danger of 
 damnation, on the variety of the punishments of hell. 
 The scenes of the Inferno were represented even at festi- 
 vals. In 1304, in the month of May, the gay time of the 
 y«ir, one of the Florentine companies of revellers gaVe 
 notice to the citizens, that whoever would hear news of the 
 
OEVIETO. 127 
 
 other world should assemble on a certain morning on the 
 bridge aMa Garraia across the Arno. Boats and rafts 
 were moored on the river below, and there this joyous 
 company represented the scenes and sufiFerings of hell with 
 fires and torments, some of the band counterfeiting horri- 
 ble demons,' and others appearing as naked souls in woe, 
 with ^reat howling and viproar, frightful to hear and to 
 see. In the 'ihidst of the scene, the bridge, overladen 
 with the mass of spectators, suddenly broke down ; so 
 that, says the chronicler, "the game changed to earnest, 
 and many went in reality to learn hews of the other 
 world." * 
 
 To this pervading sentiment of fear, combined often 
 with nobler emotions arid with high spiritual conception^, 
 Gothic iarchitecture gave expression in many of its most 
 characteristic features. The grotesque, which enters so 
 largely into its details, was an expression of a natural 
 rebound of the Spirit from the constraint of a severe and 
 compulsive creed. There is a fear which is simply op- 
 pressive, which criishes out the principle of life, — and 
 also a fear which, while it impedes the development of 
 some portion of the Spiritual faculties, vitalizes and stim- 
 ulates, in combination with other principles, the general 
 powers pf the soul. The one finds its expression in the 
 dead gloom of low-browed Hindu teniples, — the other, 
 in the solemn, but aspiring grandeur of Gothic cathedrals. 
 Oh the yhspacfe of the Duomo of Orvieto, lipon one of 
 the piers at the side of its doors of entrance, were sculp- 
 tured representations of the Last Judgment and of Hell. 
 * Giov. Villani, Lib. viii. dap. Ixx. 
 
128 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 As years went on, the beautiful church, " the palace 
 of God," advanced rapidly toward completion. Already, 
 as we have seen, in 1321, the timbers for its roof were 
 brought from the forest where they had been hewn. The 
 sculptures and mosaics upon its gorgeous /af ode, display- 
 ing " doctrine and life, colors and light in one," were 
 actively carried forward. The great windows were filled 
 with slabs of translucent alabaster, through which a mel- 
 low light fell into its marble aisles. The bronze figure 
 of the Virgin to surmount the main portal was cast, and 
 set in the place which it stiU holds, looking down upon the 
 worshippers who enter the church dedicated to her honor. 
 The beauty and lavish magnificence of the building had 
 taken visible form in the thirty years that had passed 
 since its " foundations, terrible to behold," were laid, and 
 that which had been only a vision in the imagination of 
 the architect was now a reality plain to the sight of all 
 men. The Duomo already ministered to the civic prj^e 
 of the people of Orvieto, and the recorded contributions 
 for its support for the year 1323 amount to nearly 8,Q00 
 lire, — a large sum in those times, when the chief ar- 
 chitect received but forty-eight lire a month, and tlie 
 monthly pay of the masters in the different avts varied 
 from ten to six lire, according to their abilities or reputa- 
 tion. In addition to this sum received from voluntary 
 contributions, large revenues were derived from legacies, 
 as well as from the tribute exacted by authority of the 
 state from the towns and feudal proprietors subject to the 
 dominion of Orvieto. 
 
 The genius and comprehensive ability of Maitani had 
 
OEVIETO. 129 
 
 been displayed, not only in the original plan of the build- 
 ing and in a general oversight of its construction, but also 
 in his practical acquaintance with the processes of the 
 various subsidiary arts, and in the superintendence and 
 combination of the labors of the parties of workmen scat- 
 tered over the country. The Cathedral was moulded in 
 all its portions by his hands, and upon him, in great meas- 
 ure, its steady progress had depended. In the year 1330, 
 aifiter forty years devoted to its service, he died. He had 
 lived long enough to see his great design complete in all 
 its main features, and rivalling in its splendid adornments 
 the iSnest churches of Italy. The Duomo at Florence; — 
 Santa Maria de' Fiori, — begun about the same time, and 
 on a scale of superior grandeur, befitting the greater size, 
 the wider power, and the more abundant wealth of the 
 city of which it is still the chief ornament, had not ad- 
 vaiiced so rapidly, had not been the object of so fond and 
 liberal a regard, as the mountain Cathedral of Orvieto. 
 Bare fortune for an artist, to embody his life and imagi- 
 nation in one work, and to live to see his work accom- 
 plished ! 
 
 The history of the church loses interest after Mai- 
 tani's death. lit relates thereafter not so much to the 
 larger processes and methods of construction as to the 
 details of oriiainentatibn, — to the mosaics, the paint- 
 ings in chapels, the elaborate wood-inlaying of the choir 
 stalls, the ratiking of the costly reliquary, — all of which 
 show the zeal of the Orvietans in the decoration of the 
 building, and illustrate the history of the minor arts, but 
 fail in extiibiting any of the grander features of social 
 
130 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 life and religious emotions. The race of men to which 
 Maitani belonged vyas fast disappearing in Italy, and it 
 would have been difficult, had there been need, to find a 
 successor able to occupy the place he had filled. After 
 the death of Arnolfo, the Eluomo of Florence was left 
 to stand incomplete for nearly a century, and ^yas then 
 partially finished, on a plan inferior to, and discords^nt 
 with, the original design. The grandest part of the plan 
 for the Cathedral of Siena was never carried put. The 
 Cathedral of Milan remained unfinished till the present 
 century. The Campanile at Florence is one of the fewr 
 great works of architecture in the North of Italy begun 
 and finished in the fourteenth century, and Giotto was 
 almost the last of the long line of complete artists who 
 comprehended architecture, sculpture, and painting in the 
 full circle of their acquirements. Before the end of that 
 century Gothic architecture was lost to Italy, not more 
 through the inability of her artists than through the 
 change in the spirit and the decline in the temper of 
 her people, p( which this inability was one of the 
 marked consequences and indications. 
 
 Of all the work that had been accomplished on the 
 Duorao during the lifetime of Maitani, the most impor- 
 tant in the history of Art, and the most intrinsically pre- 
 cious, were the sculptures which still hold their place 
 upon the four piers at the sides of the doors of entrance. 
 Neither the exact date at which they were caryed, nor 
 the names of the artists who executed them, are known 
 with certainty. Vasari, in his life of Niccola Pisano, 
 attributes them to this master; but Niccola died before 
 
ORVIETO. 131 
 
 the Cathedral of Orvieto was begun, and these works 
 show a consummate power and skill, such as even this 
 great artist rarely exhibited. It is a circumstance that 
 marks the temper of the men who created these and 
 most other of the best works of Art down to this period, 
 that they left no record of their names upon the marble 
 which they carved or the walls which they painted. In 
 his life of Arnolfo di Lapo, Vasari complains of many 
 works, that he was not able to find out in what century 
 they were executed, so that, as he says, " I cannot but 
 wonder at the stupidity and the little desire for glory of 
 the men of those times." This wonder was natural at a 
 period when artists cared more for distinction than for 
 excellence. It was, however, neither stupidity nor care- 
 lessness of fame that had led the earlier masters to the 
 neglect of the preservation of their names ; but their 
 chief desire was to produce works that should deserve to 
 last in the service of religion, and not as memorials of 
 themselves. All Art was sanctified by its religious char- 
 acter. As the priest at the altar forgot himself in the 
 presence and service of the Almighty,, so they who paint- 
 ed the sacred picture or carved the altar-steps thought 
 little of human praise and acceptance in the performance 
 of their works. They shared in the exalted religious 
 feeling of the period. Glory to God, fear of His judg- 
 ments, joy in the works of His hand, filled their hearts 
 and warmed their imaginations. In the heated air of 
 devout enthusiasm, personal ambitions and vain exulta- 
 tions were scorched and withered up. But as the spirit- 
 ual conditions that produced such results passed away. 
 
lB2 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 as the religious tnoti'^reB of Art grew weak, the desire of 
 fame took the place of purei* desires, arid artists inscribed 
 their names even upon works professedly sacred, for the 
 direction of admirers arid the information of posteritj^. 
 
 These Otvietan scillpturesj althotigh not the work of 
 Niccola Pisano, proceeded from the school which he 
 founded, and which was caffied fatwatd by his son, Gio- 
 vanni. Their style connects them With other works 
 known to be from the hand of Giovanni of his immediate 
 disciples i and though no direct evidence remains of his 
 being at Orvieto, yet, as he labored long both at Perugia 
 and at Siena, there is every likelihbod that he, as the 
 most famotis sculptor of the times, would have bfeen 
 called on to take charge of the most important work in 
 marble of the century. It may Well be that other Sculp- 
 tors had part in it, and some apparent differences in style 
 are to be traced under a general Similarity in the execu- 
 tion. But 
 
 " Qua] di pennel fu maestro e di stile, 
 Chi rittaesse I' ombre e i tratti ch' ivi 
 Mirar farieiio uii ingegno sottile,'* 
 
 will, perhaps, never be certainly known. 
 
 In poetical conce|>tion, in imaginative mingling of sym- 
 bolism and realisffi, in the conibination of mystic fulness 
 of allegory and suggestion with a simple, straightforward,- 
 and natuTal development of the leading ideas, iii play Of 
 fancy, in truth and tenderness of feeling, and in the ex- 
 hibition of a sincere and ardent faith, these sculptures 
 take rank among the noblest works of mediEEval genius. 
 
ORVIETO. 133 
 
 • 
 
 -Nor is it only ill thteir intrinsic qndliU'es that they de- 
 serve adbiiPation. The imaginati'oh Ahd feeling manifest 
 in Ihe works of the early masters are often superior to 
 their powers of exetution. They succeed in expressing 
 themselves only in part and imperfectly, owing to the 
 want of technical skill, iaiid the failure of thle haiid to 
 give due form to th'e (tortStejJlioriS of the brain. The un- 
 successful result bf isffbrts to break lotjse froth itiherit'ed 
 and conventional methods of rejii-esehtation, the baffled 
 attempts to express the new thoughts and feelings which 
 were stirring in the hiihds ahd hearts bf ih'eri, bfteii give 
 a curious paihbs to the TVorks bf the first centuries of the 
 Efevival. Giolto hithself rarfely drew with etitire Borrecir- 
 ness, so far as mere physibal rendering was concei-ned. 
 The progress df the hand was far slowisr than that of the 
 spirit. Knowledge is of later bil-th thSti Feeling. But 
 in these bas-reliefs, which Vasari qualifies as " resjiec- 
 table works for thfe time," there is less iirlperfectioh bf 
 rendering, less deficiency in kjlbit'ledgfei bf ahaldrhf^ bf the 
 figure in motion, and of perspective, than in most other 
 contemporary works. They shbw not only study of the 
 ancient rdodels^ frb'tlii which thte PiSaris had Ifearrifeci ihiibli 
 in their own city; but also careful study from life, of the 
 human figutey and of di-aperies; They show, indeed, that 
 there was still niuch to learn, btttj in spite of rtijlhy de- 
 fects, the forms have animatiod,' and the feces have natural 
 expression. Modern sculpture can show nothing which, 
 iri Variety of imagination arid liveliness of rendering, ex- 
 cels these works executed five centuries and a half ago. 
 
 On the four piers, each of which is about twenty-five 
 
134 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 feet high by sixteen feet in width, the spiritual history 
 of the human race, according to the Scriptural view, is 
 sculptured in direct or typical representations. The first 
 is occupied with bas-reliefs which set forth the Creation 
 and the Fall of Man, and the two great consequences of 
 the fall, Sin and Labor, On the next pier are sculp- 
 tured with great fulness and variety, and not always with 
 plain meaning, some of the prophetic visions and historic 
 events in which the Future Redemption of the world was 
 seen or prefigured by the eye of faith, or which awakened 
 longings for the coming of the Messiah. On the third is 
 represented the Advent, the Life and Death of the Sa- 
 viour, at once the reconciling of God and man and the 
 fulfilment of prophecy. And on the fourth is the com- 
 pletion of the things of the spirit, in the Resurrection, 
 the Last Judgment, Heaven and Hell.* 
 
 Thus were the great facts of his religious creed set 
 before the eyes of him who approached the church, about 
 to pass over its threshold from the outer world. Every 
 eye could read the story on the wall ; and though few 
 might comprehend the full extent of its meaning, and 
 few enter into sympathy with the imagination of the art- 
 ist, yet the inspiration of faith had given such power to 
 the work, that no one could behold it without receiving 
 some measure of its spirit, and being influenced by its 
 devout and serious teachings. 
 
 * Engravings of the sculptures on these piers are to be found in 
 Die Basreliefs an der Voi'derseite des DoTns zu OrvieU), . . . Mii ertdti- 
 termiem Texte von Emil. Braun. Herausgegeben von Ludwig Gbu- 
 KER. Leipzig. 1858. A volume of great beauty and interest. 
 
OEVIETO. 135 
 
 The sepips of Ij^^-ieliefs on the first pier begins at the 
 lower corner on the left hand, with a representation of the 
 work of tl}p fifth day of preE^tion. The three persops 
 of the Trinity ^^p part jn tl^e act ; but the Father is 
 rgpresenteil only by a hand in the act of blessing, from 
 which rays proceed, appearing in the heayens amid the 
 Slip, moon, and stars. Tl^e Holy Spirit hoyera as a, dove 
 al)|pve thp |iea(i of the S^yipur, wh^, as tjie (sl^ief agent 
 qf the crpatiop,* st^ncls wifh Jijs right hand outstretched 
 toward a stream of water filled with fishes, and toward a 
 flppk of bii;ds gatherpii oil the farther bank of the stream. 
 Tbp (igure of tbe Savipur is that of a young man, Jjis 
 bear^p!^ f^c^ has a Greciap type of beauty, and the 
 drapery of his garment exhibits in its breadth and dig- 
 nity tlie influence of (ijass^pal mp,del.s. TJie fowl tl^at may 
 fly abovp the earth are so treated as tq show tbe artist's 
 careful fidelity tf( Nature. There are at least sixteen 
 birds in the group, massed together, but in mpst instances 
 distinguished by spme sppqial characteristic. In front 
 stands the eagle^ with flat bead, curved beak, and sharp 
 talp^iji, as i^- in hisi very Iprm foretelling tl^e starvation^ ^ha,t 
 would await l^im in Paradise, according to the common 
 npt^on of that place, were man not soon to fal\. On a 
 shrub near by sits a U^le Ijird, seemingly a dpve, which, 
 
 * The wide-spread idea, that the creation was effected through the 
 agency of the Son, was derived from a false interpretation of the 
 words, " All things were ipade by him," John i. 3, tlxait is, by the 
 Logos or Word of God. See Didron's Chrisiian Iconography, trans- 
 lated by Millington, 1. 1,70-196. Thus, in the Nicene Creed, repeated 
 daily in the Mass, occur the words, " lentrni Christum, filvmri £>d uni- 
 gmitwn per guem omnia J'acia SMW^" 
 
136 TEAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 with Wings Upraised arid neck stretched forward, appears 
 to exult in its new-created life. It is a figui-e small, 
 but full of delight, carved by a lover of Nature'. Be- 
 hind the Saviour al-e two Wide-winged and beautiful 
 angels, brie looking Upward', the other wdtchirig the 
 process of creation. 
 
 The heit bas-relief is occupied by the re^t'eseritatioii 
 of the sixth day's work.. The third shows the Creatioii 
 of Man. The significance of the words, " The Lord 
 Grod formed man of the diist of the groiirid," is con- 
 veyed by the figute of a niati stretched in lifeless listless- 
 ness iipon the earth. Ttiis flgilte is one of the nlarvels 
 of sciilpture. It lies neither dead nor sleeping, but sim- 
 ply without aniOaatibri: Life has iiol heavied the chest 
 nor iribved the countenance. Above the form stands the 
 Creating Savibur, bending a little forward. As if in con- 
 templative interest, his i-ight hand stretched out with 
 extended fbrefiriget, as if guiding the obedient dust, and 
 shaping it to perfect man. The atteiidiant angels are not 
 now side by sidb, but opposite each Other. The one that 
 floats at the head bf the irian is unsurpassed in lighthess 
 and composure of poise arid inotion; in sweetness of aspect 
 and bf attitude. The band bf angels in these sciilptures 
 and in thbse of the third pier take their place in the 
 memory with Fra Angelico's portraits of the heavenly 
 host. The serenity, the sweetness, and the intensity of 
 their expifessibns, the piety and various einbtion mani- 
 fest in their gestures and attitudes, the sweeping curves 
 of their balanced white wings, the self-support of their 
 floating forms, the simple lines of the drapery tliut 
 
OEYIETO. 137 
 
 clothes (them, their diversity and their similarity, all 
 give to them a .place in sculpture exclusively their 
 own. 
 
 Take .them, for instance, ,in the next sculptured picture 
 of the series, where they hover side by side, watching 
 the final work of Creation, beholding the jE/ord with his 
 left hand resting upon the head of man, ^nd with ^his right 
 haiud, in .the act of blessing, -brought close ,to .^he face that 
 he had formed out of the dust, breathing into its nostrils 
 the breath of life. The one with hands foldejd across 
 the bosom seems wrapt in wonderiijg and reverent con- 
 templation, — while the other, wi|h one hand pointing to 
 eai;th and one to heaven, seems as if marking the union 
 of earth and ieaveii in the ibody and the spirit of man. 
 Man ereqt, but not yet alive, life seems ,to be quivering 
 through his limbs in the first throb of qonsciouspess, — 
 the eyes are unclosing, the hand starting into motion, the 
 legs becoming firm for support. A moment more, and 
 man will ibe a living sou}. 
 
 To the ima,ging.tion that conceived of the presence of 
 these spiritual witnesses at ithe miracle of Creation, the 
 reality of the angels of the Lord was a fact as literal as 
 the reahty of men. With inward vision the artist beheld 
 the heavenly messengers, and he carved each succeastiye 
 figure as he beheld it passing in the beauty of holiness 
 before his purified eyes. 
 
 " A lui venia la creatura bella 
 
 Bianco vestita, e nella facoia quale 
 Par tremolando mattjiti^a atella,',' 
 
 The series of sculptures on the first pier, advancing 
 
138 TRAVEL ANb SiXTDY IN ITALY. 
 
 from the Creation 6f Mdn to the "Creation of "Womkn, then 
 to the scenes in the G£lrd6n,'and to the Fall, the Expul- 
 sion from Paradise, and the Murder of Abel, ends with 
 two tablets whieh Seem ' intended for fy^icSil ' representa- 
 tions of the fulfilnient of the doom of labbr Which had 
 been ijii-ohbunced against man. The labors ih which he 
 engaged elided ib we'arihess of so'iil and vexation of spirit. 
 Parted from Gbd, he found the earth full of thorns and 
 thistles. The'preseiit was soJ'rowful, the future dark, and 
 otily in'hi's visions, in prophetic'foi'egleams bf joy, did he 
 behold the j)i'ohlise of a brighter day. 
 
 This spiritual forecasting Of a reuriibn between the 
 'Aithighiy atld the children of men occupies the second 
 pier in a long series of involved sculptures. The sep- 
 arate Cbtnpbsitions exhibit different passages of the ob- 
 scure prophetic atid poetic history of the childreti of 
 Israel, ^displayiiig the pride, the desolatioti, the sorrows, 
 aiid the hopes Of 'the Vace. 
 
 Along the middle of the pier, in an iascendiirg line 
 of ovals, formed by an intricate and fanciful arabesque 
 ■which divides the carved scenes one from another, are 
 seen six of the kings of the house of DaVid, beginning 
 with David himself, holding his Harp. In the seventh 
 oval appears Mary, the mother of Jesas ; and ih the 
 eighth and last, crowning and fulfilling all, sits the Mes- 
 siah himself, his right hand raised to bless, his left holding 
 the Book of the New Covenant. 
 
 Two lines of prophets cross the pier horizontally at its 
 base. One amonrg them is distinguished from his com- 
 panions by a garland of leaves upon his head. Possiblj;, 
 
OEVIETO. 139 
 
 under this figure thus distinguished, the artist intended to 
 represent Virgil, who, throughout the Middle Ages, bOre 
 a serai-prophetic character, and was supposed to have 
 foretold the coming of Christ. A female figbre upon 
 the opposite side suggests also an intention on the part 
 bf the sculptor to represent one of the Sibyls, who, 
 inipopfilar crfedence, no less than the prophets, ^^ '' Tesie 
 •Bavid cum Siin/Ea," — had foretold the bifth 6f the 
 'Redeemer. 
 
 •Among 'the scenes representied on either side of the 
 line of kings, are the Anointing of Davidj'the Vision of 
 Ezekiel, the Birth of Immanuel, (Issiiah vii. 14,) the 
 Mourning of Jerusalem, knd the Weighing of'Sbuls or'of 
 the actions of men (1 Samuel ii. 3). The final Scene is 
 that of the Crucifixioh, not displayed as a literal everlt, 
 -but as foreshadowed in dim words atid obscUre hints in 
 the aheient prophecies. In the death'of Him wh6 taketh 
 -away the sins of the World the c^cle of prophecy "Was 
 closed. But above the Crucifixion sits the Virgin, and 
 above her appears her Son in'gloiy. On orle side an 
 angdl, €ying toward Mary, seems to speak the sweet 
 words of the Annunciation, while on the Other 'a prophet, 
 ■looking up to the Saviour, displays his open roll of 
 prophecy, the meaning of which is how clear, and the 
 service of which is ended. 
 
 On either side of the main 'dompositions 'tin this pier, 
 almost from bottom to tap, is a line of prophets ^nd aged 
 men engaged in instructing the successive generatidrts of 
 inankind, who are represented in half-figui'es. In these 
 groups it was, perhaps, the intention of the sculptor to 
 
140 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 e;xhibit those men, and the followers of them, who " all 
 died in faith, not having received the promises, but hav- 
 ing seen them s^far off, and were persuaded of them, and 
 embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers 
 and pilgrims on the earth." 
 
 Thus this pillar of prophecy leads on to ;the pillar of 
 fulfilment, which stands on the opposite side of the cen- 
 tral door. Again, a tree of arabesque rises up through 
 it, forming in graceful curves a series of seven central 
 ovals inclosing figures of prophets, and on either side a 
 corresponding series of eight circles, in which scenes from 
 the life of the Saviour are sculptured, and finishing at 
 the edges of the pier with smaller circles, which inclose 
 half-figures of angels. The arrangement separates scene 
 from scene, but leads the eye easily from one to another. 
 The passages of the gospel narrative which are illus- 
 trated form a series such as was often developed by the 
 mediaeval artists, with such variations as special circum- 
 stances or individual feeling might induce. First is the 
 Annunciation, - — " the angel who came to announce the 
 peace wept for for many years " kneeling before Mary, 
 who stands with half-troubled look hearing the words of 
 his message. The angel in half-figure in the outer circle, 
 with hands crossed upon the breast, listens with apparent 
 tranquillity of joy to the words from the lips of Gabriel. 
 The Annunciation is followed by the Salutation,— in 
 which the figures are of extraordinary excellence, espe- 
 cially that of an old woman who seems to be the attend- 
 ant of Mary, and whose air and expression are copied 
 from nature, from a model such as the streets of Orvieto 
 
OEVIETO. 141 
 
 might easily aflPord. The next scene represents the Birth 
 of Christ. Mary is lying upion a couch ; her figure and 
 the drapery have a freedom and beauty which recall 
 Grecian sculptures ; ■ while the fact that the Saviour is 
 represented aS lying in a sarcophagus, which serves as a 
 cradle, shows the direct influence of the remains of an- 
 cient Art. But thdilgh' this sculpture exhibits the readi- 
 ness of the Pisah attist'to take lessons from the -work of* 
 former masters, it gives evidence of the entrance of new 
 ideas within the range' of Att, arid 'of the existence of 
 conception's unknown to the ancient schools. lii the atti- 
 tude of the Virgin, as she raises herself, leaning on her 
 right arm, to lift the veil that hung oVer' the cradle of her 
 divine Son, and to look with- earnest gaze into his face, 
 there is a tenderness of expression and a simple render- 
 ing of natural maternal feeling which 'betoken some of 
 the peculiar characteristics of Christian as distinguished 
 from classic Art. The attendant angel, with face up- 
 turned and hands clasped and raised towaM heaven as 
 in prayer, seems to partake in the mingled emotions of 
 the scene. 
 
 Passing over the interinediate bas-reliefs, we comtei 
 near the close of the history, to a naive and forcible com- 
 position representing the' Betrayal in the Garden. Judas, 
 with his hand resting upon the arm of J6sus, draws the 
 Saviour toward him to receive the treacherous kiss. The 
 multitude, with swords and stavfes, appear behind. One 
 of the attendants raises his hand to strike the unresisting 
 Jesus. In the comer, Peter has thrown do'wn the ser- 
 vant of the high-priest with his face toward the grouiidi 
 
142 TRAVEL AND STUDlY IN ITALY. 
 
 aflyd,; witjlii an amusing appeavance, of deliberate tnalLce, is 
 engaged;!^ cutting off, his. ear,- 
 
 TJip Sepm'ging follows Hie Betrayal.' Thp aogel of. 
 this scujp|ture no, ,l9nger appeaj:* watjchjng thi^. scene bw- 
 fore h^m, but, with hp^d bowed,f and bands crossed,! and 
 finger? cfepch^d,. expresses in . his attitude a shrinkisg 
 hor,rpr al, t^ie sight. After, the Scourging comes the 
 prupjfixion,. It is represented , in,, a njanner, at once, con- 
 ventional and painful, bjuli agaiji tljie,>angel.i exhibits .tljie 
 imagination of the arfi^t, iij-.thg, foroe, andipathoa ofihjs 
 passionate attitude, in ,his. h^nds. pressed iclg^elyuppni his 
 eyes. Bji)}; iij the reppesent^ition, ,that foll,Dvii8,iof ithe Three 
 Marys aj the Sepjilchre, where, the,, three w.praen, are 
 seen listening w,itb impeFfectiCopipr,ehenpipn, to the apgel, 
 who,, sitting upqn the tpnab, ai)d poiriting up.waRdg, says 
 to, thefn, " He is npt here, for he, ;i^. risen," the apgel lat 
 the side, witjlji full ,urj(Jer^t^n(}ing;of the.rafirvellpHRiWords, 
 and of the jpy of tl;ie resurvection,. lifts fape andihands 
 to heaven in exulting thanksgiving. In,,tbe last scene, 
 M^ary M^gda^e^e, is qi^tiijg . hgrseJf at tije, feet of him 
 whom she had supposed to be the gardener. The^diia^ 
 matiq conception, is striking, but, the, execut^oii;, is. feeble 
 and ,d^fecti,ye. 
 
 It was thqs .th^t the artist ;told,itbfi( life, of ;the. Lord. 
 The pictures and, sculptures . of, the ChBijohj, were the 
 Bibles of ithe .p9flr,; they sej-ved. tp, give shapeto, vague 
 ideas, to copfirm, faith, by -giving reality tp .its objects, 
 tp, quicken devptiop, by a\yakening sLiinibering affections 
 and itpaginj^tjops. . The, ar,ti,st. became a^. preacher; of 
 the Word,, He.njiglit .beJipld in hia own day .the,ipfluT 
 
OEVIETO. 143 
 
 ence of hjg ^works^ He saw them stijidied, not.by ti|ie, cold 
 and critical eye of ,coflp.Qi^seur?hjp, b,u,l; bjjrthe t^fi^ei hje^rt. 
 of f^il;lii;,.tli|?ij? nj,eaning,wf^s sp^ll; ojjt by.ru^tjiC^, and, tol,(J 
 to the little children. He saw them serve, not, as th^^japre 
 ornapippl of,, but as a spijritjial ,intrQ,dii.(;tioi}, , to, , the, , IJouse 
 of (God- Ipspised by faitjhin the.trtiths of hjs religjpn, by, 
 a,sense ,of,the,ppvirpj:,of,hia art, by a rep9gnition„of[,hi^, 
 opportunities , a^ ^ a, teficher, ^ what , wpnder, if his . hgai;t 
 burned ''^ithis hin), and his h3,jjd found inf|Bans,.t9, answer 
 to the desij^eof hi^_he3,rt,to„makp,,h}^ work: wor^hjlfj in 
 spirit and jn execution, of,:thepJace it w.a.^ tp hpl(},j0f th^, 
 ai^ctipns it was tp prpmote ? 
 
 I^uf-the„chief iStreingthj of th^maker^ofji the^e, sculp: 
 turea, ajjfj thp ^high^st exerciae of , his imagin^tipn, were, 
 regeryed for, the bas-reliefs of the fourth,, and last pier. 
 Iff ,was,hei"e.. that he showed thp cojis,uma(^tjor(jjn pfernity. 
 of.the lives pf.mefl ,uppn,,ear,th,.exhibiting thp judgment 
 and the, lifp tp cpme in, typiqa,! representations, which, 
 were,regardf|d by the commpn ppppjp as depicfing absp^. 
 lute r^a.lities. Thfi,very,fonus ani^,pan)if!r ,of thfi.resurr 
 re.ctipn, and , the ,ftftpre,wpf)td being conceived of, with 
 material .disti)3Ctnp,$s,.an^,jwith,wha.t was sugpp^ed to be 
 eyefl morp thap, a merp; general . ex9,fltn'ess,j thp^,.wfrk; 
 of |thp.,artist^ was npt so much tp,;emj).p,dj his indiyic^ital, 
 iiflfiginations in iqdepepdqnt an^, original, desigijs, as to 
 give tp; the) common and accepted ,type[^,.such|, elevation, 
 suph, power ,an4 beauty, as lay within the compass, ^of his 
 g^niu? tp conceive and tp exhibit., The same, subjects 
 appeared on cathedral w^ls all, over Europe, undpr the 
 same general forips, though w\tl; eyery variety of acjc^Sr, 
 
144 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 sory and difference of detail. But among ^all the repre- 
 sentations of them, there are few that equal those of this 
 pier in vividness of conception, in poetid spirit, in skiU 
 of composition. 
 
 From the middle of the foot of the pier springs a 
 grape-vine, which, rich in tendrils, cltistering leaves, and 
 abundant bunches of fruit, — rich, too, in the suggestions 
 of ancient symbolism, — - divides the sculptured suifa:ce 
 with its main truhk and branches into ten compartments. 
 At the lower left-hand side is the Resurrection. Men 
 and women are seen rising hastily from their graves, 
 with energetic action pushing off the heavy covers of the 
 sarcophagi in' which they' had lain, and with various 
 aspects hearing the long-awaited and awful summons. 
 The cottiposition is full of life. Thfe attionS and the 
 forms of the souls rising for judgment display a power 
 of invention, a knowledge of anatomy, and a variety of 
 expression, surpassing those shown in any of the pre- 
 vious works of the fagade, and, so far as I am aware, 
 unequalled by any other work of Italian sculpture of the 
 period. Michel Angelo himself did not design more 
 vigorous muscular action or more eager effort than are 
 here shOwn. The figures of the dead coming froih their 
 graves in his Last Judgment exhibit no more nature, 
 though much more that is painful and revolting, than 
 those in this work of the earlier and simpler master. 
 The joy of those whose names are Writteii in the Book 
 of Life appears on the uplifted faces of some, who, with 
 clasped hands, look toward heaven, where Christ is 
 seated. The horror of condemnation is already on the 
 
ORVIETO. 145 
 
 faces of others. A monk, who is trying to climb up by 
 the grape-vine, the vine of the Lord, to seize the fruit to 
 which he is not entitled, has upon his face a look of dis- 
 appointment and alarm at once pathetic and amusing, 
 from the simplicity with which it is rendered, and the 
 satire which it implies. Immediately above this scene 
 of the Eesurrection is a group of the redeemed, who, 
 with faces full of peace, are led heavenward by angels, 
 whose attitudes overrun with tenderness. One has his 
 hand upon the shoulder of a youth, pressing him forward ; 
 another clasps the figure of a worthy priest ; another, with 
 his hand supporting the head of a young man, points up- 
 ward, as if directing his eyes to the Source of life. In its 
 suggestions of beauty and love, in the sweetness of its 
 pervading sentiment, this bas-relief is one of the finest of 
 ihefagade. It is the work of a man who entered through 
 sympathy into the delight of the blessed, and the happiness 
 of the ministering angels whom he ventured to depict. 
 
 Corresponding with this, on the other side is a com- 
 position of equal power, but power of another kind, in 
 which the damned souls are seen drawn down to the 
 mouth of hell. An angel, driving them in, stands under 
 the vine ; while horrible demons receive them at the other 
 side, one of whom is dragging them in by cords fastened 
 around their necks. A serpent is winding along the 
 ground near the angel's foot. The attitudes and expres- 
 sions of despair are rendered with marvellous force, and 
 with little offensive exaggeration. One figure stands in 
 the memory as the very statue of Dismay ; bent over, 
 with hands resting against his knees, a lock of his long 
 
 10 
 
146 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 curling hair is seized by a grizzly demon, who lashes his 
 broad bowed back with a writhing snake. Beneath, op- 
 posite the sculpture of the Eesurrection, is Hell itself, 
 — a horrid confusion of fierce, bat-winged, long-clawed 
 devils, of biting and venomous serpents, of flames, of tor- 
 mented souls. 
 
 It is by no means unlikely that the descriptions of 
 Dante may have been in the mind of the Orvietan artist, 
 so great is the similarity in some points of his work to 
 passages of the Inferno. The coincidences between the 
 work of the poet and that of the sculptor are interesting, 
 if not as proofs of the direct and early influence of the 
 Divina Commedia, yet as illustrations of the similarity 
 of contemporary conceptions, derived more or less re- 
 motely from the popular beliefs. Thus, Dante gives to 
 Lucifer wings, not of birds, but of bats, {Inferno, xxxiv. 
 49,) and his description of the serpents of the seventh 
 holgia serves for a description of those of this sculptured 
 Hell. " And I saw there a terrible throng of serpents, 
 and of such fearful look that the remembrance still 
 
 freezes my blood In this cruel and most dismal 
 
 swarm were running people naked and terrified, with- 
 out hope of escape or concealment." {Inferno, xxiv. 
 82-93.) Other resemblances are apparent in the figure 
 of Lucifer, and in the tortures of the wicked. Through- 
 out this sculpture there is a masterly power of execution, 
 which perhaps raises it in technical merit above any of 
 the other bas-reliefs. The composition is crowded, but 
 not confused ; the actions of the separate figures are of 
 astonishing variety and intensity of expression. There 
 
ORVIETO. 1 47 
 
 is one figure in which the depth of misery from physical 
 and moral torture is rendered with a power unequalled 
 in sculpture. One of the dragons that coil round Luci- 
 fer has seized the arm of this wretched man in his teeth, 
 and is dragging it from its socket. The head of the sin- 
 ner falls forward fainting, his whole body droops, his 
 knees bend, his other arm hangs stiffly down, and yet in 
 this act of swooning there is no suggestion that the sen- 
 sibility to torment becomes less, or that the swoon reaches 
 farther than the muscles. As a mere study of human 
 action, this figure is wonderful, for the time at which it 
 was produced; as a piece of imaginative realism, it is 
 still more remarkable. 
 
 It may seem that such representations as these are 
 simply shocking in their display of barbarous horrors; 
 but it is to be considered that they are triumphs of Art in 
 respect to the end to which they were directed, — that 
 end being to afiPect the imaginations of those who de- 
 pended on the means of salvation held out to them by 
 the Church, by awakening in them a positive alarm in 
 regard to their future condition. To render the torments 
 of hell real to the fancies of men has been one of the 
 most constant efibrts of the Roman Church, as well as of 
 other churches and other sects of diverse origin and 
 name. The sermons of Jonathan Edwards are not less 
 horrible in their revolting pictures of the material suffer- 
 ings of the damned, and show no more spiritual concep- 
 tions of the future life, than the common Eomanist repre- 
 sentations of hell. Both belong to a perverted system of 
 heathenism raised upon a professedly Christian founda- 
 tion. 
 
148 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 The next two sculptures, forming a band across the 
 pier, divided only by the stem of the ascending vine, are 
 filled with the figures of the blessed, attended by their 
 guardian angels. Above, forming the next band, appear 
 on one side confessors, bishops, priests, and other ser- 
 vants of God, and on the other the virgins who sealed 
 with their blood the bond which bound them to the Lord. 
 The central figure of the first group is that of a Pope, 
 ■which may be intended for a likeness of Nicholas IV., 
 who laid the corner-stone of the Cathedral ; he stands 
 between St. Francis and St. Dominick. In the back- 
 ground is seen the figure of a master-builder, with an 
 architect's square upon his shoulder and a workman's 
 cap on his head. It is pleasant to believe that in this 
 figure we see Lorenzo Maitani, the great architect of the 
 Duomo. 
 
 Still again, above the churchmen and the virgins, sit, in 
 opposite ranks, the prophets and the apostles, on either 
 side of the Lord, who appears seated within an aureole 
 held up by the angels around the throne. Just without 
 the aureole stands Mary, and opposite to her John the 
 Baptist. Higher up are the instruments of the passion, 
 and from the clouds on each side two angels are seen to 
 issue, blowing the trumpets of judgment. The figure of 
 the Saviour, difierent in this respect from later and more 
 famous representations, has nothing terrible or vindictive 
 in look or action. His face is calm and mild ; his hands 
 are so held as to display the wounds upon them, and the 
 aureole within which he sits is formed out of the bars of 
 the cross. 
 
OEVIETO. 149 
 
 Thus were heaven and hell displayed, with their sepa- 
 rate companies of spirits, — and thus was the final com- 
 position completed, opening to sight that future world, to 
 prepare for which was the great duty of life. The ex- 
 pectation of the speedy second coming of the Saviour 
 was stiU a common one, and these representations ap- 
 pealed with peculiar force to men who fancied, that, even 
 in their generation, they might see " the angel fly in 
 the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to 
 preach unto them that dwell on the earth, saying with a 
 loud voice, Fear Grod, and give glory to Him, for the 
 hour of His judgment is come, and worship Him that 
 made heaven and earth." * 
 
 Although the faith of men has in the progress of years 
 grown less ardent, and the conceptions on which that 
 faith is based have in great part changed, and though 
 these sculptures consequently have lost something of 
 their origTnal power in the service of religion, yet in 
 Jooking at them now, worn by the beatings of storms, 
 l^ellowed by sun and rain, here and there scratched and 
 Broken by carelessness or wantonness, but even thus 
 ^jgjying evidence of long existence, -;- in so seeing them, 
 oneftcannot but feel that the' centuries, while taking from 
 them one source of effect upon the imagination, have 
 given them another in its place. 
 
 For more than five hundred years no day has passed 
 
 that many eyes have not rested upon them, and from 
 
 their sight gained some impression of the significance of 
 
 the scenes which they represent, some refreshment of 
 
 * Revelation xiv. 6, 7. 
 
150 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 moral energies, some quickening of religious emotions, 
 some awakening of spiritual hopes and aspirations. Pil- 
 grims on their way to Rome and the shrines of the Apos- 
 tles have rested under the shelter of the sunny Cathedral 
 front, and have here renewed their vows in presence of 
 the figure of their Lord. Artists have come to study 
 from these marbles,* and have sought in vain from them 
 the secret of their inspiration. Popes have bowed before 
 them. Boys have flung willing stones against the sculpt 
 tured and unmindful devil. The common worshippers, 
 in all the different moods of life in which they have 
 sought the church, have seen a story wrought here as if 
 in counterpart to their own inmost experiences, as if in 
 answer to their' longings for sight of the invisible. Gen- 
 eration after generation has passed along between the 
 sculptured piers through the wide doors; first for baptism 
 into the Church, then for its successive holy sacraments, 
 till at length the priest in sacred vestments has at the 
 appointed time gone out from between the same sculp- 
 tures to carry to the dying sons of men the last gifts 
 which the Church can bestow upon her children. Here 
 
 * Vasari relates, in his Life of BnineUeschi, that one morning, soon 
 after his return from Eorae, in the year 1407, that great architect fell 
 into talk with the sculptor Donatello, and other artists, in the square 
 of Santa Maria del Fiore, about the ancient works of sculpture, and 
 that Donatello said, " that, when he returned from Rome, he went by 
 the way of Orvieto, in order to see the celebrated marble facade of 
 the Duomo, sculptured by the hands of divers masters, and esteemed 
 a notable thing in those days.' ' In 1423, Donatello, then the chief 
 sculptor of his time, was employed to make a figure in bronze gilt of 
 St. John the Baptist, to place upon the font in the Cathedral. 
 
OKVIETO. 151 
 
 were birth and baptism, sin and sorrow, repentance and 
 consolation, joy and grief, death and resurrection, all dis- 
 played, prefiguring the events that each successive gen- 
 eration should know as its own. And thus, year after 
 year, as the mellowing marble has gained a deeper tint 
 of age, has it also gained a fuller tone of meaning, a 
 richer depth of association. 
 
 While these works were accomplishing, labor upon 
 other portions of the Cathedral was not interrupted; 
 and after the sculptures were finished, their excellence 
 acted as an incitement to make the remaining works of 
 decoration worthy of being associated with them. Skil- 
 ful workmen and fine materials were sought, as before, 
 from all the neighboring districts. The records of the 
 works continue full of information in regard to the pro- 
 cesses, the materials, the cost of the different branches 
 of Art. Great pains were taken by the superintendents 
 of the building that nothing should be done in a slovenly 
 or imperfect manner. At one time they sought for " a 
 good and honorable picture for the great altar ; and as 
 none could be found, it was determined to have one 
 painted as beautiful as possible." At another, they 
 sought for "a good head master, expert, and of good 
 life, diligent and steady, who should carry on the works 
 in the best manner." Toward the end of the century, it 
 was determined to obtain an organ that should be suited 
 to the grandeur of the Cathedral ; and to this end a de- 
 cree was passed that " an organ greater than any other 
 in the world should be made," — fiat organum majus de 
 toto mundo. In 1354 there is a record of marble 
 
152 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 brought from Rome, from the ruins of the temple of Jupi- 
 ter, — showing that the Roman quarries were still worked 
 to advantage by these new builders. Already a reli- 
 quary of the most elaborate workmanship had been made 
 to contain the sacred eorporah. It is of pure silver, 
 ornamented with rich and brilliant enamels, and weigh- 
 ing no less than four hundred pounds. But the beauty 
 of its execution surpasses the costliness of its material. 
 Representing on one side ihefagade of the Cathedral, its 
 architectural structure is adorned with statues of saints 
 and angels, and with enamelled pictures of sacred sub- 
 jects, and illustrations of the history of the precious 
 relic within it. Fortunate is the position of Orvieto, 
 which has saved such a treasure from being seized and 
 melted down ! 
 
 Amid all the vicissitudes of sad seasons, amid all the 
 excitements and troubles of Italy, the building was car- 
 ried forward with more or less steadiness, but with little 
 diminution of the interest of the citizens in its progress. 
 The Popes continued to favor it, and its own beauty stim- 
 ulated contributions for its increase. One generation 
 had seen the Duorao begun ; another had watched its 
 rapid advance, and taken delight in the splendor of its 
 construction ; a third had continued to lavish labor and 
 treasure in its adornment ; and at the beginning of the 
 fifteenth century, a fourth was taking part in a work 
 which was no less the object of its pride than of its devo- 
 tion.* The ablest artists were still sent for ; and through 
 
 * Among the entries in the records near the beginning of this cen- 
 tury is one which contains an exhibition of simple and natural feel- 
 
ORVIETO. 153 
 
 the course of this century the names of many of the 
 most famous of their time are enrolled on the Orvietan 
 lists. 
 
 The most interesting and important works in the Ca- 
 thedral during this period were the paintings executed 
 by Fra Angelico and Luca Signorelli in the chapel of 
 the Virgin. It was in the spring of 1447 that the first 
 of these great artists, being iii Home, and desirous, per- 
 haps, to escape from the unhealthy air of the city during 
 the summer, sent to the Board of Works an ofiFer of his 
 services for three months. The offer was gladly ac- 
 cepted, and liberal terms were made, so that, on the 14th 
 of June, Fra Angelico signed the contract at Orvieto, 
 whither he had come, accompanied by his favorite pupil, 
 Benozzo Gozzoli, and by two apprentices.* It was de- 
 
 ing. In the year 1411, one Agostino Catalini represents to the Board 
 of Works that he has been from a child employed on the building, 
 " et ibidem didicerit a pueritia sua," and now desires to give proof 
 of his ability iii sculpture, " ad soulpendum lapides oujusoumque gen- 
 eris " ; whereupon he was engaged as sculptor for a year, at the rate 
 of sixteen Ure a month. 
 
 * There is an amusing c|:naintness in some of the terms of this con- 
 tract. " In Dei noe. Ainen. Congregatis [Conservatoribus] . . . . et 
 habitis inter eos et pictorem multis coUoquiis super omnibus et sin- 
 gulis .... unanimiter .... Camerarius .... conduxit ad pingendam 
 capellam novam .... religiosum virum frem Johem Petri Magrum 
 pictorem Ord. Predioatorum Observantie Scl Dominici ibid, presentem 
 et acceptantem et picturas totius dicte capeUe locavit d. Mag. fratri 
 Johl cum pactis quod d. frater Johes .... serviret ad picturas pred. 
 cum persona sua. Item cum persona Benotii Cesi de Florentia. Item 
 cum persona Johls Antonii de Florentia. Item cum persona Jacobi 
 de Poli bene et diligenter et cum ea qua deoet solertia et solecitu- 
 dine. 
 
154 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 termined that he should paint a Last Judgment ; and in 
 honor of hie recognized merit, the title of Maestro dei 
 Maestri was conferred upon him. The work was soon 
 begun ; and in the course of the summer the painter 
 had finished the figure of the Saviour, and a noble band 
 of prophets. He worked with zeal, and his figures were 
 in truth " beautiful aad praiseworthy," — for they possess 
 those characteristics which give to the paintings of this 
 devout master a place by themselves among the most 
 precious productions of Art. The figure of Christ, with 
 his right hand raised, in the act, as it were, of denouncing 
 a revengeful judgment upon the world,' is, indeed, one 
 such as rarely proceeded from the mild pencil of Angel- 
 ico. The force of expression in some degree makes up 
 for the painful nature of the conception ; and so similar 
 is it in design to the figure of Christ in Michel Angelo's 
 more famous picture, that the assertion has often been 
 made that it is the original from which Michel Angelo 
 drew. In September, Fra Angelico returned to Rome, 
 and, from some unexplained cause, never again, during 
 the seven remaining years of his life, visited Orvieto. 
 At the time of his death, the work which he had be- 
 gun there was still unfinished. 
 
 " Item quod faciet et curabit quod d. figure dd. piotnrar. erunt 
 pulchre et laudabiles. 
 
 " Item quod omnia faciet .... sine fraude, dole, ad commendatio- 
 nem cujuslibet boni Mag. piotoris. 
 
 " Item pro eorum expensis ultra salarja panem et vinum quantum 
 sufficiet eis." 
 
OEVIETO. 155 
 
 Years went on, and no one was found worthy to com- 
 plete the work, until, in 1498, Luca Signorelli, then 
 "famosissimus pictor in tota Italia," was engaged to go 
 on with the paintings in the chapel.* Signorelli at once 
 began, and labored steadily for four years, till the whole 
 chapel was finished, and till he had accomplished a work 
 which secured his fame for all time, and which was a 
 source from which both Michel Angelo and Raffaelle drew 
 instruction and inspiration. The walls of the chapel are, 
 in the greater part of their surface, covered with a series 
 of subjects that, in connection with the previous work of 
 Fra Angelico, form a continuous painted drama of the 
 end of this world and the beginning of the world to 
 come. First is seen the preaching of Antichrist, tempt- 
 ing the people with gold and jewels and the promise of 
 power ; many groups in various attitudes and expressions 
 of conflicting passions show the confusion of the times. 
 The followers of Christ are persecuted. Antichrist is 
 beheld borne on high by demons, as if to give to his fol- 
 lowers belief in his ascent to heaven ; but the Archangel 
 Michael descends with drawn sword against him, and 
 casts him overpowered into hell. As witnesses of the 
 fall of the deceiver of men, Luca has introduced the por- 
 traits of himself and his beatified predecessor. Then 
 comes the Resurrection, a work displaying the most fer- 
 
 * The entries in the records oonoerniug this agreement with Signo- 
 relli are long and interesting, and written in most amusingly bad 
 Latin; for instance: " Speotabilis vir Jo. Lud. Benincasa surgens 
 pedibus .... consulendo dixit qd. mittatur iterum pro d. Mag. Luca, 
 et cum eo habeatur conventio . . . . et fiat eidem unum instrument 
 tum prout est instrumentum Magri Petri Perusini." 
 
156 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 tile imagination, and most thorough knowledge of anat- 
 omy and of expression. The awakening of the dead at 
 the sound of the trumpets of judgment is rendered with 
 such fulness of detail, such power of composition, such 
 strength of feeling, as to surpass any other similar repre- 
 sentation by later or earlier painters. The same praise 
 belongs to the scenes of Hell and of Heaven, with which 
 the grand representation closes. On the one hand are 
 those who " drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which 
 is poured out without mixture into the cup of his indig- 
 nation, and who are tormented with fire." On the other 
 are "they who kept the commandments of God and 
 the faith of Jesus." In the contrast between these two 
 scenes, — between the horrible demons, the tormented 
 spirits, and the utter frightfulness of the one, with the 
 blessed angels, the spirits in peace, and the complete 
 beauty of the other, — Luca exhibited his highest power, 
 and showed himself one of the most imaginative and 
 noble artists that have ever lived. One group of the pic- 
 ture of HeU deserves special notice, from the tradition 
 which is connected with it. It represents a powerful 
 demon flying through the air, dragging a beautiful woman 
 to the tortures of the pit. It is said that the figure of the 
 woman was the portrait of one who had given herself 
 al bel tempo while Luca was painting at Orvieto, and 
 who, having through curiosity come to see the pictures 
 in the chapel, recognized herself in the figure on the 
 wall. Struck with confusion and dismay, she left the 
 chapel contrite and repentant, and thenceforth led a 
 pure and holy life. The angels, the archangels, and the, 
 
ORVIETO. 157 
 
 seraphim of heaven have a beauty and grace which 
 render them the worthy companions of Fra Angelico's 
 heavenly groups, and of the angels of the Pisan sculp- 
 tors. In vigor of form, in strength of action, in variety 
 of character, they surpass those of the earlier masters, 
 nor do they fall short in sweetness of expression and the 
 beauty of holiness. Besides these main compositions, 
 there is a series of minor subjects, on the lower part of 
 the walls, taken from the classic mythology and history, 
 chiefly relating to the ancient conceptions and stories of 
 a future life ; among them, the Descent of ^neas, the 
 Rape of Proserpine, Orpheus and Eurydice, — and con- 
 nected with these, a series of the heads of famous poets, 
 Virgil, Claudian, Statins, Dante, and others. The task 
 would be too long to describe in full the many minor 
 scenes and passages which are here represented, and to 
 attempt to convey any just idea of the wealth of ara- 
 besque and ornament with which the chapel is adornedi 
 The work, taken as a whole, is one of the greatest mas- 
 terpieces of Art, one of the chief works of painting to 
 which Italy has given birth. While retaining much of 
 the simple straightforwardness and the strong impress 
 of faith which distinguished the productions of the early 
 masters, it exhibits also the refined graces and the 
 complicate power of the works of later times. Luca 
 SignoreUi closed the line which began with Giotto, and 
 opened that which reached its height in Michel Angelo 
 and Raffaelle. " He roused by this work," says Vasari, 
 "the spirit of all those who came after him, and they 
 have since found easy the difficulties of this manner. 
 
158 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Wherefore I do not wonder that the works of Luca were 
 always praised in the highest degree by Michel Angelo, 
 nor that many things in his divine Last Judgment were 
 in a noble way taken by him from the inventions of 
 Luca." * 
 
 With the account of these great works the history in 
 detail of the Duomo may well be concluded. The six- 
 teenth century was one of decline at Orvieto. Its chief 
 nobility and its richest citizens were drawn away to 
 Rome, or to the courts of neighboring princes ; its reve- 
 nues were diminished in the civil wars of Central Italy, 
 and the works on its Cathedral languished. Still, how- 
 ever, from time to time, some new work of painting or 
 
 * Vasari's biography of this great painter is one of the best of his 
 pleasant series of Lives. When a boy, he had seen him in his old 
 age, and Luca had kindly encouraged him in his love of drawing. 
 " Turning to me, who was standing straight up before him, he said, 
 ' Learn, my dear little cousin.' And he said much else to me, which 
 I will not repeat, for I know that I have come far short of confirming 
 the opinion which that good old man had of me." The whole account 
 gives a delightful impression of the sweetness and nobility of Luca's 
 disposition and the excellence of his long life. 
 
 In 1845, two German artists undertook to restore the frescoes in the 
 chapel at Orvieto. They removed some whitewash with which por- 
 tions of Luca's work had been concealed, and they retouched and 
 repainted other portions. Their work was so highly esteemed by the 
 Orvietans that they were made honorary citizens of Orvieto. But 
 in this, as in so many instances in Italy, one is forced to repeat the 
 words of Vasari, — "In truth, it would be better sometimes to keep 
 the things done by excellent men half spoiled, than to have them re- 
 touched by those who know less." 
 
 Among the records of the time when Luca was painting at Orvieto 
 Is one, in 1500, of a payment to him of ninety ducats, " de quibus 
 dictus magister vooavit se bene solutum." 
 
oirviETO. 159 
 
 of sculpture was added to it, and the older adornments 
 of the building were repaired as they were menaced by 
 decay. But the chief interest of its history ended with 
 the departure of Signorelli. The later period of the 
 Renaissance and of the Eeformation could bring to it no 
 new glory. The age of such faith as had directed its 
 foundation was gone by, the sources of such lavishness 
 of wealth as had brought to its construction all that was 
 most costly in material and most precious in workman- 
 ship were almost exhaftsted. It was henceforth to be 
 rather a monument of the past than a work of present, 
 times. Yet the labor upon it has never ceased ; and, 
 in the spring of 1856, workmen were engaged in re- 
 storing one of the mosaics of its fagads. 
 
ROME. NAPLES. VENICE. 
 
ROME. NAPLES. .VENICE. 
 
 EoMB, SOth Maroli, 1856. 
 " Rara tempofum felicitas, iM senti/re qUcB velis et quae 
 sentias dicere licet," says Tacitus. It is a felicity rare 
 at Rome. To feel and to speak, to think and to act, inde- 
 pendently, are privileges denied to Romans. They are 
 privileges too dangerous to the Church, to be allowed by 
 the ecclesiastical masters of the State. The less feeling 
 and the less thought there are at Rome, the better for its 
 rulers. The system of the Church cannot coexist with 
 freedom in any direction. The claim of infallibility does 
 not recognize that of individual opinion. No theories 
 of government and of religion can be more diametrically 
 in opposition than those prevalent at Rome and in Amer- 
 ica. As an American, born into the most unlimited free- 
 dom consistent with the existence of society, — .trusting 
 to the results of the prevalence of general freedom, as 
 affording a moral check upon the excesses of individuals, . 
 — believing in freedom in the fullest extent, as the di- 
 vine rule for individual development, — regarding feeling, 
 thought, and speech as having a natural privilege of 
 liberty, — honoring the right of private judgment in all 
 
164 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITAL\. 
 
 matters, — it is difficult, even at a distance, to regard the 
 system of the Roman Church as being other than a skil- 
 ful perversion of the eternal laws of right ; and it is im- 
 possible to regard it, after familiar acquaintance with its 
 v\rorkings at its source, save with a continually deepening 
 sense of its direct opposition to the most precious of hu- 
 man rights, to the most sacred of human hopes. 
 
 Society, which in a condition of freedom knits its bonds 
 continually closer and stronger, becomes disintegrated un- 
 der the influence of a government which undertakes the 
 control, not only of public, but also of private affairs, and 
 which claims to exercise its authority as well over the 
 consciences and the thoughts of its subjects as over their 
 actions. Such a government can be carried on only by 
 secret and corrupt means. The confessional becomes an 
 instrument of the State, the secret police an instrument 
 of the Church. Suspicion is universal. "We never 
 talk openly together, we cannot trust each other," is the 
 common confession of Romans. My Italian servant is 
 afraid of my Italian friend, and my friend fears lest my 
 servant should overhear his talk. " I cannot venture to 
 have friends, except those of science," says a Professor 
 of the CoUegio Romano. The nephew of one of the 
 exiles of 1849 brings me a letter for his uncle, to send 
 under an inclosure of mine, for he does not think it pru- 
 dent to let it pass openly through the post-office. FiMi 
 era un Imon uomo, Nontifdare era meglio, says the Ro- 
 man proverb.* 
 
 Divide et impera, is the standing method of Rome. 
 * Trust was a good man. Distrust was a better. 
 
ROME. 165 
 
 The government relies upon the mutual distrust of the 
 citizens as a source of strength. But such strength is~ 
 mere weakness in disguise. Every man is taught to dis- 
 trust his neighbors, but all men learn to distrust their 
 rulers. The government which undertakes to control 
 everything, and which seeks to know everything of its 
 subjects' affairs, is necessarily baffled, finding the work, 
 however skilfully it may be planned, beyond its powers. 
 The aphorism of Domitius Afer, " Princeps, qui vult om- 
 nia scire, necesse habet multa ignoscere," has a closer 
 application to Papal than to Imperial rule. As perse- 
 cutors breed heretics, so spies breed liars. In vain is the 
 truth sought from those whom the instinct of self-preser- 
 vation has taught to deceive. 
 
 - In only one view can the Eoman ecclesiastical system- 
 of government be called successful. It has succeeded in 
 enlisting on its side the fears of its subjects. 
 
 Rome, 2d April, 1856. 
 
 - It is in Eome, and on the Gampagna around it, that 
 the bitterness of the Italian poets becomes intelligible. 
 ^' Ahi, serva Italia! di dohre ostello" seems the natural 
 language of patriotic emotion. Grief for the desolation 
 pf the country and the degradation of the people is 
 made sharper by the beauty of the land and the excel-, 
 lent qualities of the popular character, and vents itself 
 in the exclamation, "Deh,fossi tu men bella!" Petrarch's 
 denunciation of the modern Babylon, Alfieri's tremendous 
 invective against Kome, are no mere outbursts of passion, 
 but the literal statement of undisguised truth. From the 
 
166 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 earliest to the latest of the real poets, the same indignant 
 sadness embitters their verse, and the strain begun by 
 Dante is closed by Leopardi, with the line, — 
 
 "Piangi, ch# ben hai donde, Italia mia!" 
 
 Rome, 8th April, 1866. 
 
 There are few stories of the old Romans in which 
 much tenderness of feeling or sentiment of character 13 
 manifested. Such qualities as these were not valued in 
 classic times in proportion to the manlier virtues. Their 
 true relation to those virtues was not understood. The 
 philosophers excluded them, for the most part, from 
 regard, and there was little in heathen modes of life to 
 develop the growth of these refined and softer elements 
 of character. 
 
 Among all Plutarch's stories, there is, perhaps, none 
 more touching, as an exhibition of sentiment, than that 
 which he tells of the love of Sertorius for Rome. " In 
 the height of his power in Spain, he sent word to Me- 
 tellus and Pompey that he was ready to lay down his 
 arms and live a private life, if he were allowed to return 
 home ; declaring that he would rather live as the mean- 
 est citizen in Rome, than, exiled from it, be supreme 
 commander of all other cities together." 
 
 Naples, 14tli April, 18B6. 
 " Shakespeare, BaUo in Quattro Parti," being adver- 
 tised for performance this evening at the San Carlo, we 
 
NAPLES. 167 
 
 went to see it. Policinello had been amusing us in the 
 afternoon ; but at the Eoyal Theatre Policinello was 
 distanced. No intentional fun was ever more ludicrous 
 than the unintentional comicality of this ballet. The li- 
 bretto was for sale at the door, and in itself was abun- 
 dantly amusing. The story had been transferred into 
 Italian from the French, but it had gathered gloi-y in its 
 progress. Its full title was, " Shakespeare, or the Dream 
 of a Summer's Night," — and the translators warn their 
 readers that it is not a translation of one of Shake- 
 speare's plays. The piece opens at the Mermaid Tavern, 
 where a room is filled with sailors making merry. Sud- 
 denly a person enters, also in a sailor's dress, but under- 
 stood to be Shakespeare in disguise. He joins the others 
 in their drinking and laughing, " improvmsando ahune 
 storielle interessanti." But, indulging himself in some 
 gallantries with the pretty bar-maid, he excites the jeal- 
 ousy of a character named Tom. This increases the 
 good-humor of the poet. He proposes a toast in honor 
 pf Queen Elizabeth, which is accepted with enthusiasm 
 by all except Tom, who refuses to drink it. Shakespeare 
 hereupon grows angry, and invites him to what the trans- 
 lator calls " una partita di boxes." Tom is thrashed by 
 the adventurous dramatist in the best ballet style; and 
 immediately afterward Shakespeare is reminded, by some 
 words of the landlord which he happens to overhear, that- 
 a great supper is to he given in that very tavern, and on 
 that very evening, " to the luminary of England, William 
 Shakespeare," a fact which that luminary had unaccount- 
 ably forgotten. He retires in haste to prepare himself 
 
168 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 for the banquet ; and, as he goes out, FalstaflfJ the guar- 
 dian of the Royal Park at " Richemont," enters, to see 
 that all is in order for the feast, of which he has the 
 charge. While he is repeating his orders, two masked 
 ladies are driven by a tremendous storm to take shelter 
 in the tavern. These ladies are the Queen and Miss 
 Olivia, who had been at the theatre to witness the per- 
 formance of " Macbeth," and who, in coming out from it, 
 had been separated by the violence of the storm from 
 their attendant cavaliers. The guests begin to arrive, 
 and the ladies, desirous to avoid encountering them, are 
 hidden by FalstaiF in a side room. After various adven- 
 tures, Shakespeare appears again upon the stage, half 
 drunk ; he discovers the ladies, declares that they shall 
 not go away, alarms Miss Olivia by drawing his sword, 
 and receives a severe rebuke from the Queen. She, 
 however, feels profound compassion for that genius which 
 is being miserably lost through want of the aid of a 
 friendly and protecting hand. She speaks to him of his 
 future of glory, warns him of the waste of his talents, 
 and exhorts him to make better use of them. Shake- 
 speare, probably of opinion that he could not much im- 
 prove upon " Macbeth," replies, that, betrayed by love 
 and by glory, he has now but one comfort, namely, the 
 bottle, which he immediately produces and empties. 
 The effect of this draught, in addition to the wine he 
 had previously taken, is to cause him to drop suddenly 
 asleep. Elizabeth takes the opportunity to escape, hav- 
 ing decided, however, to save him from the abyss into 
 which he stands ready to plunge. 
 
This is the outline of the action in the first part of, the 
 ballet. Dances are introduced, which add to the effect 
 of reality. Shakespeare is a beautiful youth, with long, 
 thin legs, and glossy black hair. The remainder of the 
 piece is, perhaps, equally amusing. The Queen arran- 
 ges a vision in the park for Shakespeare's reformation, 
 which is happily accomplished. The poet appears at 
 court. " Elizabeth presents to him a rich casket ; he 
 opens it, and beholds a crown of laurel. ' Oh ! I am not 
 worthy of it,' exclaims the great poet, in confusion, bend- 
 ing one knee to the ground. ' Yes, you are,' replies the 
 Queen. She encircles his forehead with the rich crown, 
 and orders that the day shall be celebrated on which 
 the Queen of England, in the name of the country, 
 thanks Shakespeare for his works. Elizabeth takes 
 Shakespeare by the hand, and introduces him, to the 
 sound of music, into the great dancing-hall." 
 
 This is fame. " Shakespeare. Un Ballo in Quattro 
 Parti. Napoli, 1855." 
 
 Naples, 15th April, 185G. 
 I bought, to-day, at a bookstall, a volume of some four 
 hundred pages, with the following title : " Giesii Bambi- 
 no, o sieno Kagionamenti per modo di Meditazioni sopra i 
 Dolori ed AUegrezze, ch' ebbe il Cuore di Giesu Cristo 
 neir Utero della Madre ; come altresi sopra le Virtu da 
 Lui esercitate mentre stava ivi racchiuso : Compogti, dal 
 Padre D. Antonio De Torres, Preposito Generale deUa 
 Congregazione de' Pii Operarj." The contents of this 
 
170 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 book appear to be worthy of the title, — and a character- 
 istic specimen of the coarse materialism that prevails in 
 Neapolitan theology. 
 
 CiviTA Castellana, 2d June, 1866. 
 From the appearance of the children in the streets of 
 this ancient and dirty town, it may well be doubted, 
 whether, if a second Camillus were to besiege it, any 
 traitorous schoolmaster could now be found to deliver the 
 boys into his hands. The education of the lower classes 
 in the Roman States is professedly superintended by 
 ecclesiastics. But, in a country where public spirit is 
 stifled, as being equally troublesome to its possessor and 
 to the State, — where the government is in the hands of 
 a class whose interest it is to keep all other classes in sub- 
 jection to themselves, little is effected for the enlighten- 
 ment and the improvement of the poor. The Roman 
 Church claims to have done much in past times for the 
 interests of scholarship ; but her general tendency has 
 always been against popular instruction. She has her 
 catechisms for religious teaching ; she has her Sunday 
 classes ; she gathers the children of the poor together to 
 instruct them in their duties, especially'in those'of faith 
 and obedience ; she gives them stories out of Scripture 
 history; and she codifies for them the laws of God into 
 the simple direction, — " Do as I bid you, and you will go 
 to heaven ; disobey me, and you will go to hell." Such 
 has been, and such is, the instruction given by the Church. 
 The mass of the people, say those in authority, are not 
 
CIVITA CASTELLANA. 171 
 
 fit for Other teaching than this. What is called educa- 
 tion is dangerous. The priest and the schoolmaster are 
 rival powers. The alphabet is the first step toward the 
 free exercise of thought. Republicans are always read- 
 ers. And when a man once begins to read, no one can 
 tell how far he will accept what his priest gives to him as 
 truth. The Church is logical ; she possesses the knowl- 
 edge of truth ; she has souls to save, therefore let her 
 prevent these souls from gaining any knowledge but such 
 as she may teach them. 
 
 Three or four miles from Civita Castellana are the 
 ruined walls of the city of Falerii Novi, — walls over 
 which antiquaries h^ve contended with as much fierce- 
 ness as ever was displayed by the old besiegers and be- 
 sieged who fought around them. They are all that now 
 remain of an Etruscan city. The ride to them is by a 
 rough path over broad upland fields, broken here and 
 there with deep and beautiful ravines, whose sides, lined 
 with vines, elders, and young oaks, are hollowed with 
 tombs long since despoiled. Nightingales were singing in 
 the trees that overhung a brook which ran through one 
 of these ravines, and a cuckoo was calling from one of the 
 gi'eat park-like oaks that stood in a wide field of grain. 
 In the midst of a plain rise the dark red walls of the 
 old city, built of squared blocks of tufo, so solid, and so 
 well set, that, in great part, they seem as firm to-day as 
 when first laid. The line of the northern and eastern 
 sides is but little broken ; the upper courses of stone 
 have, however, mostly fallen or been thrown down, so 
 
172 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 that the height of the wall is irregular, sometimes rising 
 to more than thirty feet, sometimes to scarcely more than 
 ten or twelve. At regular intervals, hardly more than 
 a lance-throw apart, stand low, solid, square towers, flank- 
 ing the wall along its whole length, and affording a vivid 
 illustration of the old mode of attack and defence. Here 
 and there the whole structure has been overthrown, and 
 the stones lie in a heap covered with clematis, poppies, 
 and ivy. The ivy climbs, too, in masses of dark glossy 
 green, over the red blocks of the standing wall ; grass 
 grows close up to its base ; and above it rise oaks that 
 have planted themselves on the banks within. Thei-e is 
 no house in sight, no sign of habitation, — only this great 
 wall standing solitary in the wooded fields, with Soracte 
 for its magnificent and unchanging background. 
 
 Many of the old gates are now blocked up. A path 
 through a gap in the wall leads to what was once the 
 interior of the city, — a field waving with grain, and 
 a meadow in which men were raking hay. The only 
 building within the circuit is the ruin of an ancient Lom- 
 bardic church, that was itself built out of the still earlier 
 ruins. Its roof is gone, — the muUions of its round-headed 
 windows all gone, — the marble mouldings of its portals 
 broken and defaced. Within it a fig-tree is growing 
 down from one of its chancel-windows, and a screen of 
 ivy half hides the poor remains of a faded fresco. A 
 portion of the roof of the apse still remains, and under- 
 neath this shelter girls and women were storing the hay 
 which they brought in upon their heads from the ad- 
 joining meadows. The roofless aisles have been used 
 
CIVITA CASTELLANA. 173 
 
 for the stabling of cattle, and the fluted columns, once 
 those of some heathen temple, serve for the barnyard 
 posts. On a block of white marble, at one side of the 
 great door, are the words, " Laurentius cum Jacopo fiUo 
 suo fecit hoe opus." As they built on the ruins of the 
 old city, did the thought ever come to them, that their 
 fine work, too, would fall to ruin, •— that the priests and 
 congregation would desert it, — and that the twitter of 
 swallows, the cluck of hens, and the lowing of cows would 
 take the place within its walls of the responses of the 
 clerks and the chants of the choristers ? A worse ene- 
 my than Goth or Vandal has driven away the people 
 from their church, — an enemy who is now knocking at 
 the very gates of Rome, and seems, year by year^ to gain 
 new force, — the Malaria. 
 
 Two of the smiling, good-humored girls who were 
 bringing in hay came up to me to beg. They were not 
 beggars by profession ; but the poor people regard all for- 
 eigners as lotteries, in which it is worth while to take a 
 ticket, on the chance of its turning up a prize, — espe- 
 cially as the ticket is to be had only for the asting, or 
 rather, consists only in that. While they were begging, 
 a man offered me some late Roman copper coins, which 
 he said he had found in the fields. As usual, one of 
 them was of Maxentius, who seems, by the number of 
 his ugly coins that are turned up, to have inundated the 
 land with his brass. One of the girls said she had an 
 old silver coin at home, but her home was two iniles off, 
 and it was too late in the afternoon to wait for her to go 
 and fetch it. 
 
174 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Just outside the southern wall runs a little torrent, by 
 whose side is a rocky bank, in which are many tombs, 
 Etruscan and Goman. The shepherds use them now for 
 shelter, and the entrances of many of them are half 
 closed with the thick growth of grass and shrubs. They 
 possess little distinguishing interest ; — they are only the 
 tombs of the unknown people who lived in the city close 
 by. There are some Etruscan inscriptions between here 
 and Civita Castellana, but no one has made out their 
 meaning. It is a strange thing to know so much as we 
 do of the external life of the Etruscans, and so little of 
 their inner life, and of the events in their history. From 
 their tombs, their bronzes, their vases, and their jewelry, 
 we may read something of their character, learn some- 
 thing of their art and of their religion ; but, after all, 
 it is very little, and the past shuts down around them like 
 a mist over a distant mountain. 
 
 Perugia, 5th June, 1856. 
 
 Not long since, an evening school, similar to those in 
 Home, was established here by some private persons in- 
 terested to do what could be best done for the poor of 
 Perugia. It was kept for boys who were employed at 
 work during the day. The authorities found it incon- 
 venient, and suppressed it. 
 
 In 1849, the old fortifications that command the city, 
 built by Pope Paul III., expressly " ad coercendam Pe- 
 rusinorum audaciam" were dismantled by the people, 
 
BOLOGNA. 175 
 
 during the short time in which they held their own. The 
 present government is now restoring them. 
 
 To-day being market-day, a great number of peasants 
 were in the town. In the centre of the crowd in the 
 square was a boy with a lottery-wheel, selling numbers 
 from it, corresponding to the numbers in a book of for- 
 tunes. He was doing a good business. 
 
 Bologna, 14tli June, 1856. 
 
 The character of the criticisms passed by travellers 
 upon works of Art is generally worthless ; but the ex- 
 tracts given in " Murray," in regard to the pictures in the 
 Academy here, from Mr. John Bell's book on Italy, — a 
 work not without reputation, — are more curiously and 
 elaborately bad, as specimens of criticism, than are com- 
 mon. That they should be given in the only good hand- 
 book for Italy, in English, to help travellers in forming 
 a judgment in regard to the merits of the famous works 
 in this collection, is a striking proof how little accu- 
 racy and good sense are in general required in such 
 criticism, how readily people yield to pretension, and 
 how easily they are deceived by sounding words and 
 unmeaning phrases. 
 
 The first extract from Mr. Bell is upon a picture of 
 the Madonna and Child by Ludovico Caracci. He says 
 that " it is an inimitable painting, in which the artist has 
 displayed the richest stores of genius." And he amplifies 
 this statement as follows : " St. Francis kissing the child's 
 hand is painted in a dark tone, not to interfere with the 
 
176 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 principal figures, and is yet finely made out, as are tlie 
 angels and the other accompaniments of the picture ; the 
 coloring soft and sweetly tinted, the whole being, with 
 wonderful art and keeping, entirely subordinate to the 
 great object of the composition." This seems a little 
 vague. St. Francis painted in a dark tone ! Is it a low 
 tone or dark colors that is meant ? And yet his figure 
 finely made out ! Pray, why should not a figure that 
 stands prominent in a picture be finely made out ? " The 
 coloring soft and sweetly tinted, the whole being, with 
 wonderful art and keeping, entirely subordinate to the 
 great object of the composition." What does this mean, 
 — this " whole " being subordinate to the object of the 
 composition ? 
 
 But this is not equal to what follows. In his remarks 
 upon one of Tiarini's pictures, Mr. Bell says, — " The fig- 
 ures are considerably smaller than life, which might be 
 supposed to hurt the general effect ; but the composition 
 is so perfect as to leave no feeling in the mind but that 
 of admiration." Now it happens that the figures in this 
 picture are not smaller than life ; but, if they were so, 
 what an amusing and ignorant absurdity it is to suggest 
 that figures below life-size might hurt " the general 
 effect " ! Is it needful, to produce what Mr. Bell would 
 call a good general effect, that all the figures in a picture 
 should be life-size or gigantic ? Raffaelle's " St. Cecilia," 
 hanging just opposite, might have taught the hastiest 
 observer and the most thoughtless critic better. Is the 
 picture of the Vision of Ezekiel less sublime because it 
 is on a foot square of canvas ? 
 
BOLOGNA. 177 
 
 In speaking of Domenichino's " Martyrdom of St. 
 Agnes," Mr. Bell says, — " The serene and beautiful 
 countenance of the Saint is irradiated by an expression 
 of rapt holiness and heavenly resignation infinitely touch- 
 ing." Such, undoubtedly,- it would have been well that 
 the expression of the Saint should be ; but such it is not ; 
 for its coarse materialism, disgusting exaggeration, and 
 the utter want of elevation or truth of expression, this 
 picture is one of the worst even of the Bolognese school. 
 But Mr. Bell goes on to say, — " The episode of the two 
 women forming the foreground of one corner of the pic- 
 ture, who are represented as hiding the face and stilling 
 the screams of a terrified child, affords a scene of fine 
 action, very admirably delineated." No such scene as 
 this exists in the picture. In the right foreground is a 
 woman with a frightened child, but she is inattentive to 
 its screams, and doing nothing to hide its face. Behind 
 this group, and quite separate from it, are two other 
 women, occupied with their own terrors. Such careless- 
 ness of criticism is inexcusable ; but, fortunately, errors 
 like this may be set right by the most inattentive eyes. 
 
 Again, in regard to Domenichino's " Martyrdom of St. 
 Peter Martyr," Mr. Bell says, — " The elevated and ex- 
 alted resignation painted on the features of a noble coun- 
 tenance, the effect of the black drapery cast around the 
 kneeling figure, and held in one large, majestic fold by 
 the left hand, has a combined effect of grandeur and 
 chaste simplicity, which is inexpressibly fine." The 
 elevated resignation and the effect of the drapery has a 
 combined effect inexpressibly fine ! But, unfortunately 
 12 
 
178 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 for all this fine writing, there is no kneeling figure in 
 the picture. The Saint is prostrate on the ground ; 
 the murderer stands over him, holding the Saint's black 
 robe, but scarcely in what is to be termed a " majestic 
 fold." 
 
 After what is intended for a piece of very eloquent 
 and magnificent writing, in the account of Guido's " Mas- 
 sacre of the Innocents," in which " the outcry of one 
 mother," " the pale, dishevelled aspect of another," " the 
 despair and agony of a third," and " the murdered babes 
 lying on the blood-stained marble, huddled together," are 
 fully described, Mr. Bell concludes with the startling 
 assertion, that these figures '■'■present an Mstoriccd picture, 
 perhaps the most domestic and touching that ever was 
 painted." Do mothers in anguish, and murdered babes, 
 form a characteristically domestic scene? Such writing as 
 this is absolutely intolerable. Had it been intended as a 
 travesty upon the usual style of criticism, it would have 
 been considered dull extravagance ; but here it passes for 
 serious earnest, and is quoted as worth reading. 
 
 It is not worth while to go on. These passages are 
 fair samples of the whole ; and it is unsatisfactory work 
 to expose such presumptuous imbecility. 
 
 There is great want of a good artistic guide-book for 
 Italy. Kugler's work on Italian Art is the only one that 
 approaches to what is needed ; but Kugler is thoroughly 
 German in his dulness, and in many of his notions about 
 Art. Lord Lindsay's " Christian Art," and Mrs. Jame- 
 son's " Legendary Art," both in many respects excellent, 
 are too limited in their scope to serve as guide-books, 
 
BOLOGNA. 179 
 
 besides being too cumbrous and expensive for the major- 
 ity of travellers. In American literature there is nothing 
 that deserves notice as a help to the lover of Art in Italy, 
 and, of all travellers, Americans need such help the most. 
 "We come abroad utterly ignorant of Art, and, with nat- 
 ural and national self-confidence, at once constitute our- 
 selves judges and critics of paintings and statues. The 
 audacity of our ignorance halts at nothing ; and a five- 
 minutes' visit to the Sistine Chapel qualifies us to de- 
 cide on the powers of Michel Angelo. The majority 
 of American travellers have yet to learn that some pre- 
 vious knowledge is to be acquired before one can be a 
 judge even of the externals of Art ; that it is not the 
 eye alone that needs cultivation, but the heart and the 
 intellect as well, by those who would understand and 
 enjoy the works of the great masters. You may judge 
 correctly of the merits of a poem in a language which you 
 do not know, as easily as you can judge correctly of the 
 merits of a picture while you are ignorant of those prin- 
 ciples that are, as it were, the alphabet of Art. If you 
 are unwilling to accept the authority of others, it is well 
 to remember that the only independence of judgment 
 that deserves the name is that which rests upon a basis 
 of humility, and of desire to learn how to judge cor- 
 rectly. It is somewhat damaging to our national vanity 
 to find that the worst pictures are purchased by Amer- 
 icans, or for the American -market. Many an American 
 who comes to Kome and Florence thinks it will not do 
 for him to go home without taking a picture from Italy, 
 as a proof of his taste and a record of his travels. He 
 
180 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 puts himself into the hands of a commissionaire, who 
 takes him to shops where he is sure to be flattered and 
 cheated. He buys a black, patched-up landscape, "a 
 real Salvator," bright with varnish, and in a carved 
 frame ; or he purchases one of the watery copies of some 
 picture that suits common taste, because painted on the 
 level of common-place, uneducated feeling. His com- 
 missionaire makes the bargain, and receives a good pro- 
 portion of the sum apparently paid for the picture. All 
 other commissionaires are most dishonest rogues ; this 
 one alone is trustworthy. Our countryman goes back to 
 his hotel, and thinks he has made a good bargain, since 
 he paid only twenty dollars for a head, while the poor 
 American artist, whose studio he went to the day before, 
 asks two hundred and fifty dollars for the picture he has 
 just painted. Or perhaps our friend has paid a large 
 sum for his picture ; he has got a genuine Murillo, or a 
 real Titian, — at least, so he has been persuaded by the 
 dealer ; and then he congratulates himself that no such 
 pictures are painted in our days, — not knowing that 
 pictures a thousand times better hang, unbought, in the 
 studio of his poor countryman. 
 
 It is no matter of surprise that our best artists find but 
 little encouragement, and that Art is considered among 
 us generally as a matter of Httle importance, when one 
 sees, by such evidence as is aflfbrded by American travel- 
 lers in Italy, the average level of American taste and the 
 depth of American ignorance. 
 
FEEEAEA. 181 
 
 Fereaka, 16tli June, 1856. 
 The doctrines of Hell and Purgatory, and of the 
 power of the Pope ta afford absolution, may be re- 
 garded as the corner-stone of the grand edifice of the 
 Papacy. From the time that it was established as a 
 truth of religion, that there was a hell, and that men 
 could be saved from the consequences of their sins, that 
 is, could escape from hell, through the intervention of the 
 Pope, — from that time, wealth and temporal power 
 were assured to the Church. St. Peter's was paid for 
 by money raised by the sale of indulgences ; and while 
 the material investment appeared in the marbles and 
 gilding of the church, the moral investment appeared 
 in the denunciations of Luther and the progress of the 
 Keformation. The importance of these doctrines to the 
 Church led to the subjection of all its other religious dog- 
 mas to them. The fall of man, the offended majesty of 
 God, the atonement, the justice of the Almighty in con- 
 tradistinction to his mercy, the power delegated to St. 
 Peter, and, through him, to the Pope, have all been 
 made subservient to the support of a belief in the eter- 
 nity of punishment, and the opportunity afforded to escape 
 from it. The fear of hell became greater than the love 
 of heaven ; but the desire for heaven was greater than 
 the desire for goodness. The popular imagination was 
 easily excited by the delineation of future torments ; and 
 Art represented accurately the popular belief. As the 
 dread of the vengeance of God increased, the worship 
 of Mary, the "Mother of Mercy,'' increased. In pic- 
 tures of the Last Judgment, Mary appears as if pleading 
 
182 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 with her indignant Son. The genius of Michel Angelo 
 has given to these doctrines of fear their most vivid and 
 awful representation. God is no longer the Father, but 
 the unrelenting Judge condemning his children. Over 
 the minds of the common people of Italy these doctrines 
 still hold an unshaken supremacy. The love due to God 
 is diverted to the Virgin ; the wayside shrines are adorned 
 with pictures of souls in the torment of flames, and with 
 pictures of the Virgin as the intercessor for fallen man. 
 Indulgences are as much sought as ever ; crowds kneel 
 before privileged altars ; and the steps of the Scala Santa 
 are worn by the knees of constant pilgrims. 
 
 Nor does the Church weary in her teaching. Money 
 and power are as important to her now as ever, and con- 
 sequently hell and its fires. The Padre Passaglia is 
 considered the best scholastic theologian in Rome. His 
 lecture-room in the Collegio Romano is crowded five 
 times a week by an audience of students in theology from 
 all parts of Europe, and from America. His eloquence 
 and zeal are like those of the lecturers of old times ; and 
 his authority is quoted upon points of doctrine. He has 
 lately published a tract, "On the Eternity of Punish- 
 ments, and on the Fire of Hell," in which he exerts 
 himself to prove the one and the other. It is a piece 
 of cold, dry, unfeeling logic. His fifth theorem is, " The 
 eternity of punishment is proved by those texts in which 
 the damned are deprived of all hope of any future re- 
 demption or liberation." * The demonstration of his 
 
 * " In Eeligion, 
 What damned error, but some sober brow 
 Will bless it, and approve it with a text? " 
 
FEERAEA. 183 
 
 eighth theorem, in regard to the Fire of Hell, is as fol- 
 lows : " The principal efficient cause of fire in the pres- 
 ent life is God the Author and Governor of Nature ; 
 but of the fire of hell God the Judge and Avenger of 
 sin and sinners is the efficient cause. 
 
 " Present fire burns and is supported by chemical 
 operations ; but the fire of hell is excited and preserved 
 by the breath of the Lord. 
 
 " Present fire does not act upon the soul except 
 through the body; but the fire of hell immediately 
 afflicts and torments the soul. 
 
 " Present fire must finally be extinguished ; but the 
 fire of hell will last forever. 
 
 " The former shines ; the latter produces outer dark- 
 ness. The former, burning, dissolves and consumes ; the 
 latter tortures and burns, but yet does not destroy. The 
 former may, by human art, be diminished and extin- 
 guished ; the latter makes every effijrt vain, and has the 
 power of God for its support." 
 
 Another curious and interesting tract, published last 
 year, from which something of the present character of 
 the teaching of the Roman Church upon these points 
 may be gained, is called, " A Catechism concerning 
 Protestantism and the Catholic Church." 9 It is to be 
 noticed that this work appears at Milan, — a city, as 
 all the world knows, under Austrian rule, — and that 
 the Emperor of Austria, last year, in the concordat made 
 with the Pope, signed away, as far as such things can be 
 
 * Per Giovanni Perrotti, Peliantea CattoUca. Milano, 1865. 
 
184 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 signed away, religious and educational freedom in his 
 dominions. The first lesson is on "The Name and 
 Origin of Protestantism." The following is one of the 
 statements : " The name of Protestant and of Protestant- 
 ism is employed to signify the rebellion of all modern 
 sects against the Catholic Church founded by Jesus 
 Christ ; or, which is the same thing, the rebellion of 
 proud men against Jesus Christ, the Founder of that 
 Church." The third lesson is on " The Doctrines of 
 Protestantism," and ends with the pupil's saying, " These 
 doctrines strike me with horror ; — are they not, in some 
 sense, worse than those of the pagans ? " To which the 
 teacher replies : " You are right ; neither pagans nor 
 Turks have ever reached such impiety of doctrine." 
 The fourth lesson is on " The Authors and First Promul- 
 gators of Protestantism," of which the following extract 
 will serve as a specimen : " Luther was an apostate. 
 After he had married a nun, he had, as his first disciples, 
 Carlostadius, Melancthon, Lange, and others of the same 
 sort, — all of a piece. Carlostadius was an apostate, and 
 he also took a wife. Melancthon was a hypocrite, a dis- 
 sembler, cruel, a blasphemer, and devoted to judicial as- 
 trology. Lange was an ex-friar, like Luther ; and he, 
 
 too, married Calvin died madly blaspheming, and 
 
 invoking the Devil." There is much more matter as 
 remarkable as that here quoted, serving to illustrate the 
 ideas prevalent among the supporters of the Catholic 
 Church in regard to Protestantism, and the mode adopted 
 to deter the young religious inquirer from adopting a form 
 of belief so pernicious. A ourious description is given 
 
FEREARA. 185 
 
 of the signs by which the disseminators of Protestantism 
 are to be recognized, in which it is stated that " you 
 should know, that, in England, within a short time, the 
 desire has been frequently expressed of renewing the 
 executions practised for about three centuries upon the 
 poor Catholics." But it is Lesson XV. that is most im- 
 portant to our present purpose. This lesson is, " On 
 the Certain Damnation of Apostate Catholics " ; and the 
 teacher asserts in the course of it, that " it is certain with 
 the certainty of faith, that all Catholics who become Prot- 
 estants are irretrievably damne^ for all eternity, except 
 in case of sincere repentance before death, accompanied 
 with the abjuration of their errors.'' This portion of 
 the Catechism closes with the statement, that " there is 
 nothing in these pages which cannot be confirmed with 
 irrefragable proofs and arguments." 
 
 Such is a specimen of the authorized teaching of the 
 Church in 1856. Is it strange that superstition stiU pre- 
 vails in Italy ? Christianity is degraded into a creed of 
 fear ; and, to the lively imagination of the Italian, the 
 horrors of hell are pictured with such force as to form 
 the prevailing motive of his so-called religion. 
 
 " A woman went through the streets of Alexandria, in 
 Egypt, — her feet bare, her hair dishevelled, with a torch 
 in one hand, and a jar of water in the other. She said, 
 — ' With this torch I will burn heaven, and with this 
 water put out hell, that man may love God for Himself 
 alone.' " 
 
186 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Vekice, 8th July, 1856. 
 
 The mosaics in the vestibule of St. Mark's are, per- 
 haps, the most interesting of the long series of these 
 works with which the roof of the cathedral is covered. 
 They comprise some of the best mosaics of the thirteenth, 
 and some of the best, also, of the sixteenth century ; and 
 the sharp contrast between them shows, at a glance, the 
 course of Art during this interval of three centuries, from 
 its first struggles to free itself from the bands of Byzan- 
 tine swaddling-clothes, to the near period of its decrep- 
 itude and decline. They afford, also, curious incidental 
 illustrations of the character and spirit of the workmen 
 of the one time and of the other. 
 
 In the intention of the early builders of the church, 
 the vestibule, or atrium, was regarded as that portion of 
 the sacred building which was appropriated to those who 
 had not been received into the full standing of members 
 of the Church of Christ. It was for the unbaptized, and 
 for new converts, and perhaps, also, for such as might 
 have fallen into sin, and who, as penitents, sought for a 
 second admittance within the fold. The subjects to 
 which the attention of such persons was to be directed 
 were, for the most part, chosen from the Old Testament, 
 and the old mosaics in the vestibule of St. Mark's rep- 
 resent scenes taken from the Books of Genesis and 
 Exodus, beginning with the Creation and the Fall of 
 Man, and going on through the histories of Noah, Abra- 
 ham, Joseph, and Moses, ending with the representation 
 of the miracle of the Fall of Manna. The series of sub- 
 jects is similar to that which is found in like places in 
 
VENICE. 187 
 
 many other cathedrals ; but there are few where the de- 
 signs are so numerous, or where the story is so regu- 
 larly carried forward. 
 
 The earliest in the order of arrangement are those on 
 the right hand of the main entrance. In the cupola in 
 the roof, over the door, of which the bronze valves were 
 brought from Constantinople, is a series representing the 
 Creation and the Fall of Man. The popular belief; de- 
 rived as much from favorite apocryphal stories as from . 
 the account in the Bible, is here curiously exhibited. 
 The second subject, for instance, is that of the Creation 
 of Angels, by whom the Creator is accompanied in the 
 after works. The quaint simplicity and honest straight- 
 forwardness of treatment, combined now and then with 
 a sudden and surprising attempt to express some poetic 
 conception or vivid imagination, in which the hand of 
 the designer fell short of his desire, and failed him at the 
 moment when its best skill was most needed, are often 
 strikingly manifest. But in these very shortcomings of 
 manual execution, as compared with the vigor of concep- 
 tion, lie the promise and the certainty of the rapid prog- 
 ress of Art. Thought had freed itself from ti-aditional 
 restraints, by which for centuries it had been held in 
 check, and the hand was sure soon to become obedient 
 to the directing will. 
 
 The cupola is divided into three bands, in the second 
 of which occurs the picture of the Creation of Man. 
 The Creator is seated on a throne, and is forming man 
 from the dust of the earth. The angels stand around, 
 looking on. Man is represented as a black, inanimate 
 
188 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 figure. This is followed by the blessing of the seventh 
 day, in which the day appears as an angel kneeling to 
 receive the benediction. The next is the giving of the 
 soul to man. Man stands before the Creator, who holds 
 up towards his mouth a little figure with butterfly-wings, 
 — this figure being intended to represent the soul. The 
 third range of the cupola contains the scenes in Paradise, 
 and the expulsion from it, — all of them curious in de- 
 .sign, but all rendered so plainly as to be intelligible 
 to any one who had read or had heard the story from 
 Genesis. This was the first lesson to be learned, and 
 no one could fail to understand its meaning, written, in 
 glowing colors, on a ground of gold, and in clear, though 
 awkward, lines. Each of the pictures is accompanied 
 with an inscription, taken generally from the Scripture 
 narrative. 
 
 The place of the old mosaics over the main door has 
 been filled by later ones ; and it does not appear what 
 were the subjects of the earlier works. They probably 
 did not belong to the series of subjects from the Old Tes- 
 tament, but were detached and separate works, represent- 
 ing, it is not unlikely, Death and the Judgment, Heaven 
 and Hell. 
 
 The remaining spaces of the ceiling of the atrium are 
 occupied with subjects from the Old Dispensation, and 
 there appears to have been an obvious and impressive 
 meaning, as has been pointed out by Mr. Ruskin, in the 
 conclusion of the series with the miracle of the Fall of 
 Manna. It was to direct the thoughts of tlie disciple to 
 the words of Christ, — " Your fathers did eat manna, and 
 
VENICE. ] 89 
 
 are dead " ; and to lead him to remember that living 
 bread which " if any man eat, he shall live forever." 
 And this thought would be StiU more strongly impressed 
 upon him, when, returning from the northern end of 
 the vestibule, where this miracle was represented, he 
 entered the central door of the church, and, turning, saw 
 above it, on the wall, a grand and solemn mosaic of the 
 Saviour " enthroned, with the Virgin on one side, and 
 St. Mark on the other, in attitudes of adoration, — Christ 
 being represented as holding a book open upon his knee, 
 on whiqji is written, 'I am the door: bt me if ant 
 
 MAN ENTER IN, HE SHALL BE SAVED.' On the red 
 
 marble moulding which surrounds the mosaic is written, 
 
 ' I AM THE GATE OF LIFE : LET THOSE WHO ARE MINE 
 
 ENTER BT ME.' Above, on the red marble fillet which 
 forms the cornice of the west end of the church, is writ- 
 ten, with reference to the figure of Christ below, ' Who 
 
 HE WAS, AND FROM WHOM HE CAME, AND AT VTHAT 
 3PRICE HE REDEEMED THEE, AND VTHT HE MADE THEE 
 AND GATE THEE ALL THINGS, DO THOU CONSIDER.' " * 
 
 The mosaics were thus designed, not merely for the 
 adornment of the church, but also for the instruction of 
 the people. Every part had a religious significance, 
 either in plain words or in symbolic suggestion. "The 
 visible temple was a type of the invisible Church of 
 God." 
 
 From the eleventh to the fifteenth century, mosaic- 
 workers seem to have been employed with few intervals 
 upon the church roof It does not appear at what period 
 
 * Stones of Venice, ii. Ill, 112. 
 
190 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 the whole was completed, but it was probably during the 
 fifteenth century that the last mosaic of that series which 
 had been commenced almdSt four hundred years before 
 was finished, and the great design of the original builders 
 fulfilled. With the sixteenth century a new period be- 
 gins. Some of the oldest mosaics had been injured by 
 time and accident. The resources of painting had been 
 ■wonderfully developed ; the old designs looked poor and 
 meagre, beside the splendid work of the new school of 
 Venetian painters. The meaning of the early artists 
 was now no longer read, or, if read, was but Ijttle re- 
 garded. No reverence was felt for their pious work ; and 
 the procurators of St. Mark's determined, that, instead 
 of restoring those of the old mosaics which stood in need 
 of repair, they should be removed, and their places sup- 
 plied by entirely new work. The best artists were em- 
 ployed on these new mosaics, and their names have come 
 down to us, not only in the records of the works, but in 
 the inscriptions which they took care to place on the pic- 
 tures themselves. The most famous of them were the 
 brothers Francesco and Valeric Zuccato, both of them 
 the friends of Titian, who seems to have had for the 
 elder of them, Francesco, a more than common regard. 
 To these brothers was intrusted the work of making 
 fresh mosaics in the vestibule over the main door of en- 
 trance ; and here may now be seen their brighter colors 
 and richer and more skilful designs, contrasting with the 
 older mosaics on each side. In the lunette over the'door 
 is a figure of St. Mark. He is represented as standing 
 with his arms raised, and his face turned toward heaven, 
 
VENICE. 191 
 
 from which a hand appears, in the act of blessing. He 
 is dressed in rich vestments, and the whole ground upon 
 which the figure is relieved is of gold. This is the first 
 mosaic that strikes- the eye of the stranger as he enters 
 the vestibule through the outer central door. Its colors 
 are as glowing and fresh as when it was first set in its 
 place. There is, perhaps, no more highly finished work 
 of the kind in the whole church than this. The design 
 for it is said to have been given to the Zuccati by Titian ; 
 and the internal evidence afforded by the figure of the 
 EvangeUst is such as to give authority to the tradition. 
 The hardness of line, the too great sharpness of light and 
 shadow, the want of softness and harmony in color, which 
 are faults often to be found in mosaics of all ages, have 
 been so far successfully avoided in this, that the proud 
 inscription which the artists placed under the feet of St. 
 Mark appears not as a piece of vaingloriousness, but 
 rather as a just claim on the applause of aU who may 
 look at their work, and a fit expression of their own as- 
 surance of its excellence. MDXLV. Ubi diligenter 
 
 ISrSPEXBRIS, AKXEMQUE AC LABOREM FrANCISCI BT 
 
 Valerii ZncATi, Venetor., fratkum, agnoveris, 
 TUM DEMUM judicato. " When you have carefully 
 looked and recognized the art and the labor of Francis 
 and Valerius Zuccato, brothers, of Venice, then finally 
 judge." 
 
 But if this inscription be pleasant to read, in view of 
 the merit of the work and the satisfaction of the work- 
 men, it is far otherwise when one considers the place in 
 which it is set, and the incongruity between it and the in- 
 
192 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 scriptions on the more ancient mosaics. The entrance to 
 that house which men have dedicated to the Most High 
 is no place for the exhibition of pride in their own work, 
 and for boastfulness of its excellence. There is no more 
 forcible illustration of the difference in the spirit of the 
 earlier workers and that of the workers of the sixteenth 
 century, to be found in all Venice, (and such illustra- 
 tions are by no means uncommon here,) than is to be 
 found in these inscriptions. The one was the spirit of 
 an age of faith, in which men considered the best that 
 they could do as but a poor offering to God, and took de- 
 light in their calUng as a means of expressing their deep- 
 est convictions, — an age, not of pride and self-satisfac- 
 tion, but of comparative simplicity and self-forgetfulness. 
 The other was the spirit of an age of formal reverence 
 and real infidelity, in which men worked with reference 
 not so much to the glory of God as to their own am- 
 bitions and petty fames, and by their example and their 
 works led on that period of debasement in religion, in 
 philosophy, and Art, from which we are now so imper- 
 fectly and tediously struggling out. The decline of Art 
 is to be dated from the time when artists began to work 
 for purely worldly ends. Men of genius, it is true, pre- 
 pared and disciplined by the works of those who had 
 preceded them, using the slowly accumulated experience 
 of many generations, and freed from clogging convention- 
 alisms, accomplished, afler the period of faithlessness had 
 begun, works more splendid in color, more accurate and 
 rich in design, more complete in what are technically 
 called artistic qijalities, than any that had been accom- 
 
VENICE. 193 
 
 plished before. But their greatness had the seeds of 
 decay within itself; and a wise critic, contemporary with 
 Titian, Michel Angelo, and Raflfaelle, might have fore- 
 told, judging from their works alone, that they were the 
 immediate forerunners of the decline and fall of Art. 
 
 On the other side of the vestibule, opposite their figure 
 of St. Mark, the Zuccati executed a mosaic of the Depo- 
 sition from the Cross, and under it placed the inscription, 
 
 NATHKiE SAXIBUS, ZuOATOEUM FEATKUM INBEHIO, 
 
 which may, perhaps, be translated, " Made with the stones 
 of Nature by the genius of the brothers Zuccati." The 
 inscription is curious, not merely for its bad Latid, but 
 for the results which followed this error in declension. 
 The success of the Zuccati was so great, and' the ap- 
 proval of their mosaics so general, that the directors 
 of the works on St. Mark's increased their salary, and 
 allotted to them new and important places, where the 
 old mosaics were to be removed, and new ones sub- 
 stituted. The magician had come with his new, bright 
 lamps, which he offered in exchange for the dull and 
 ugly old one. How often in the history of Art has the 
 magic lamp been flung away, without getting even so 
 much as a common new one in exchange ! 
 
 But the brilliant fortune of the Zuccati excited the jeal- 
 ousy of the other mosaic-masters who were employed on 
 St. Mark's, and reports were spread to their discredit, 
 which, being brought to the ears of the procurators, de- 
 termined them to institute an investigation to discover 
 the truth. The most important of the charges brought 
 
 13 
 
194 TEAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 against the brothers was that of having increased the ef- 
 fect of their mosaics by painting ; but it was also said that 
 the stones were badly set ; that they worked out of season, 
 in unfair competition ; and, more than this, Valerio was 
 charged with not understanding his art, and with spending 
 his time in his shop, making designs for coifs, vestures, 
 and open-work, instead of being at work at St. Mark's. 
 In support of these charges, one of their rivals, Bartolora- 
 meo Bozza, who had formerly been one of their pupils, 
 pointed out some little buildings, in the hand of an angel, 
 that were painted, and certain clouds above and below 
 the Evangelists, in the vestibule between the two doors, 
 which were made with the paint-brush, and not with 
 colored glass or stones, as they should have been, ac- 
 cording to the orders of the procurators. The other 
 mosaics were then washed with a sponge and sand, to 
 discover if there were painting upon them. In going 
 over that of the Deposition from the Cross, a bit of 
 paper that had been pasted upon a part of the inscrip- 
 tion was washed off. This was regarded as a further 
 proof of the deceptions practised by the Zuccati ; for it 
 appeared that the error they had committed in the word 
 saxibus having been pointed out to them, they had cor- 
 rected the mistake by putting a bit of painted paper, with 
 the right word upon it, over the wrong. The mosaics, 
 however, on the whole, stood the test well ; and finally, 
 on the 9th of May, 1563, the most distinguished painters 
 in Venice, having examined the works, were called upon 
 for their opinion. Such a jury of great artists has seldom 
 been gathered together. It was composed of Titian, Tin- 
 
VENICE. 195 
 
 toret, Paul Veronese, Schiavone, and one Jacopo Pistoia, 
 whose name is hardly known except for this mention of it. 
 There was little disagreement among them. Titian was 
 warm in his praise of the works, and in defending the 
 Zuccati ; and all declared, that, although it could not be 
 denied that in some places the paint-brush had been used, 
 yet, after the color thus applied had been removed by 
 washing, the mosaic had apparently lost nothing; and 
 that their design, and the skill with which they were 
 made, were in the highest degree worthy of praise. 
 After such testimony to their merits, the accusations that 
 had been brought against the Zuccati were reduced to 
 their just value ; and the procurators, satisfied with the 
 general excellence of the work, condemned the brothers 
 only to remake, at their own expense, in mosaic, such 
 parts as had been painted, and suspended the salary 
 of Valerio until he should give new proof of under- 
 standing his art. Valerio showed, as a proof of his 
 knowledge, the half-flgure of St. Clement, over the right- 
 hand door leading from the atrium into the church, which 
 he had made by himself; but it had been made many 
 years before, and some new work was now required from 
 him.* It does not appear that the Zuccati ever remade 
 the portions of their work which had been painted ; and 
 any one going into St. Mark's may read the word saxibus 
 still plain in the inscription, — a memorial of their un- 
 successful trick to hide their bad Latin, and of the praise 
 given to their mosaics by the greatest masters of Venetian 
 
 * George Sand has made this story of the Zuccati the basis of her 
 tale of Les MaUres Moscdstes. 
 
196 TEAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Art. And any one walking up and down the atrium, over 
 the beautiful, time-worn, uneven pavement, may see, in 
 the earlier and the later mosaics, not only works of Art 
 well worthy his regard, but firm-set and enduring types 
 of the rise and of the fall of Venice. 
 
EOME. 
 
EOME. 
 
 Rome, 5th December, 1856. 
 As I entered Rome once more, just before sunset this 
 evening, Shakespeare's words were running in my mem- 
 ory, 
 
 " Was't not a, happy star 
 Led us to Kome?" 
 
 and the suggestive ruins and dark aspect of the narrow 
 streets, full of remembered interest and of power over 
 the imagination, brought to mind the greeting of Titus 
 Andronicus to the city, 
 
 "Hail, Eome, victorious in thy mourning weeds! " 
 
 Then I went on to think what else Shakespeare had 
 said of historic or prophetic application to Rome. 
 
 The batteries of the castle of St. Angelo pointed upon 
 the city, and the French sentinels at its gate, told of dis- 
 quiet and insecurity, of passions repressed by force, of 
 ill-will between rulers and people, of oppression and 
 of hatred. 
 
 " Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive 
 That Eome is but a wilderness of tigers?" 
 
200 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 It does not require a long stay in the city to discover 
 that 
 
 " Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome " j 
 
 while the beggars, the priests, the monks, the idlers, 
 who fill the streets, cause one to exclaim, 
 
 " What trash is Rome, 
 What rubbish, and what offal ! " 
 
 One needs but to 
 
 " Look round about the wicked streets of Rome," 
 to feel as if it were true indeed that 
 
 "The sun of Rome is set," — 
 
 that the ancient mother of so many noble men, of fo 
 many heroes and poeta, 
 
 " Has lost the breed of noble bloods." 
 
 Years of suffering and disappointment have quencheil 
 the old spirit, and from 
 
 " The sad-fac'd men, people and sons of Rome," 
 
 little is to be hoped of wise counsel, of hearty resolution, 
 of vigorous effort. 
 
 " Romans now 
 Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors; 
 But, woe the while ! their fathers' minds are dead. 
 And they are governed with their mothers' spirits. 
 Their yoke and sufferance show them womanish." 
 
KOME. 201 
 
 And yet Kome may, perhaps, again be Roman. All 
 hope is not dead. Tyranny and falsehood are not eter- 
 nal. And even though in their fall they crush the city 
 utterly, and leave its hills desolate, then, if need be, for 
 their destruction, 
 
 " Let Eome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch 
 Of the rang'd empire fall! Kingdoms are clay." 
 
 Rome, 18th December, 1856. 
 
 The old column for the new monument in the Piazza 
 di Spagna, in honor of the Virgin of the Immaculate Con- 
 ception, and in memory of the promulgation of the dogma, 
 was raised to-day and set upon its base. The architect 
 who directed the work adopted much the same means of 
 operation as Fontana employed for raising the obelisk 
 in front of St. Peter's, about which the famous story of 
 " Wet the Ropes " is told. For some weeks the Piazza 
 has been blocked up at the end near the Propaganda 
 with a clumsy and enormous inclined plane of timber, for 
 the purpose of rolling the column up to a level with the 
 top of the base of the monument. The immense extent 
 of timber-work gave rise to a pasquinade in which there 
 was some humor : " Lost, an architect, supposed to have 
 missed his way in the forest in the Piazza di Spagna ! " 
 
 There was no religious ceremony connected with the 
 raising of the column ; and the Pope, although greatly 
 interested in the work, was not present even as a spec- 
 tator. The people say he stayed away on account of his 
 evil eye. A large proportion of the spectators, both in 
 
202 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 the square and in the neighboring houses, were foreign- 
 ers. The Romans do not like the monument ; — it costs 
 too much money, and their taxes are heavy. The win- 
 dows of the Propaganda were occupied by cardinals, 
 while Queen Christina, no fear being felt of her evil eye, 
 was looking on from one of the windows of the Spanish 
 palace. 
 
 A troop of soldiers was stationed around the board 
 fence which inclosed the monument, to keep the crowd 
 at a proper distance, and within the inclosure were the 
 city firemen, in their blue dresses and brass-topped caps, 
 manning the windlasses by which the column was to be 
 hoisted. Before the work began, the ropes, already 
 damp with the morning rain, were well wet, and then, 
 at the sound of a trumpet, the men began to turn the 
 windlasses, and the great mass moved slowly. As the 
 column rose and the creaking ropes bore the strain, 
 the clouds broke, and, just as it settled down upon the 
 base prepared for it, the sun came out brightly. A band 
 played a march, the people quickly dispersed, the draper- 
 ies were pulled in from the windows, and the workmen 
 unwound the covering of ropes in which the pillar had 
 been bound, showing the fine green veins of the cipoUino 
 marble. Next summer four statues of the prophets are 
 to be set at its foot, and it is to be crowned with one of 
 the Virgin sine lahe concepta. It promises, when finished, 
 to be as ugly as most pf the public monuments of Rome. 
 When will architects and artists learn that a column is 
 not a proper pedestal for a statue ? 
 
 Two facts connected with this column are curious. It 
 
ROME. 203 
 
 once belonged to a building of the Empire, and has been 
 lying for centuries on the Quirinal. In repolishing it for 
 its present use, it was found not to be sound, and it 
 has been cased, for security, nearly half way up, in 
 bronze open-work. The statue of the Virgin on its sum- 
 mit will afford a curious type of the Roman Church 
 itself, based upon unsound supports derived from heathen 
 times. 
 
 Rome, 19th December, 1856. 
 As I was riding this afternoon beyond the noble old 
 basilica of San Lorenzo, one of the Papal gendarmeria 
 came up behind me on a stout, black horse, and joined 
 me with' a salutation of " Good day. Excellency ! " — I 
 responded, and praised his horse. — " Yes, Signore,'' an- 
 swered he, " he is a good horse, but he has twenty years. 
 I bought him last year for eighteen scudi ; but he brought 
 me from Tivoli last night, and will go back to-night, and 
 will eat well." — " Are the roads quiet, now ? " — " Ah, 
 Excellency, the poor must live, and the winter is hard, 
 and there is no work ! " — " But how was the harvest ? " 
 
 — " Small enough, Signore ! There is no grain at Tivoli, 
 and no wine ; and as for the olives, a thousand trees have 
 not given the worth of a haiocco.'' — " And what does the 
 government do for the poor ? " — " Nothing, nothing at 
 all." — " And the priests ? " — " Mh ! vivono benone, sem- 
 pre benone ; godono questo mondo, ■. — ma ? " (They live 
 well, always well ; they have a good time in this world, 
 
 — but?) 
 
204 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 EoMB, 22d December, 1866. 
 To-day, as I was passing the steps of Santa Maria 
 Maggiore, a beggar called out to me, " Excellency, give 
 me a haiocco, and I will go up the Scala Santa for your 
 profit." This was a good offer, for he who devoutly 
 ascends the Scala Santa on his knees gains nine years 
 of indulgence for each of its twenty-eight steps, — and 
 thus, for a haiocco, I might have gained vicariously two 
 hundred and fifty-two years' indulgence. As I continued 
 my walk, and came in sight of St. Peter's dome, I was 
 reminded of the traflSc by which the Papal treasury had 
 been supplied with means for the completion of the great 
 church, — and it seemed to me that this church might, in 
 some sort, be regarded as the monument erected "in Rome 
 in memory of the principles of the Reformation. 
 
 But those principles have made little advance in Rome 
 itself. Take this matter of Indulgences, for example. 
 Although the public sale of them is no longer continued, 
 and although many of the abuses connected with them 
 have been done away, yet, among the common people, 
 they are regarded in the same way as of old, and the 
 beggar's speech shows that they still afibrd the means of 
 private, if not of public gain. 
 
 As in so many instances of ecclesiastical doctrine and 
 discipline, the teaching of the Church upon this subject 
 is not properly understood by the mass either of Roman- 
 ists or of Protestants. The Church teaches one thing in 
 formal words, and allows another in common practice and 
 belief. This creates confusion, and affords a loop-hole 
 of escape from the reproaches of adversaries. But even 
 
ROME. 205 
 
 taking the most favorable view of the doctrine of the 
 Church in the matter of Indulgences, as it is declared at 
 the present day, it will be found to afford ample room for 
 the starting-point of a new Reformation. 
 
 There is a book, easily obtainable at Eome, called 
 " A Collection of those Prayers and Pious Works to 
 which Holy Indulgences have been conceded by the 
 Popes." * The copy which I have is of the twelfth Ro- 
 man edition, published in 1849, with the express sanction 
 of the Cardinal Prefect of the Congregation of Indul- 
 gences. Its five hundred and twenty-seven pages are 
 occupied only with those Indulgences which have been 
 granted in perpetuo ; all those which are limited in time, 
 or to a special place, with the exception of a few in 
 Rome, being excluded. 
 
 Prefixed to this list is a short essay on Indulgences, 
 and on the conditions required to obtain them. It may 
 be considered as an authoritative statement of the present 
 doctrine of the Church upon this matter. According to 
 this doctrine, sin produces two results in the soul, — the 
 guilt which deprives us of the grace of God, and the 
 punishment which prevents us from enjoying him in 
 Paradise. This punishment is either eternal or tem- 
 poral. From the guilt and the eternal punishment we 
 are wholly freed through the infinite merits of Christ in 
 the sacrament of Penitence, provided we receive that 
 
 • 
 * BaccoUa di Orazioni e Pie Opere per le quaM s&no state conceduie 
 dai Soirnni Pontejici le 8. Indulgenze. Decima seconda Edizione Ro- 
 mana. Corretta ed aooresciuta di altre Conoessioni.del Sommo Pon- 
 teflce Pio IX. Roma, 1849. 
 
206 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 sacrament with proper dispositions. But as to tem- 
 poral punishment, as we are commonly not wholly re- 
 lieved from it by means of that sacrament, a great part 
 remains to be made up 'for in this life by good works or 
 by repentance, or in the next life to be suffered in the 
 fires of Purgatory. " But Christ conferred upon his 
 Church from its origin the power of making us par- 
 takers in its treasure of holy Indulgences, by virtue of 
 which we may, with the slightest inconvenience to our- 
 selves, pay in full to the Divine Justice all that we owe 
 it for our sins, — they being already pardoned, so far as 
 regards the guilt and the eternal punishment. For this 
 is a treasure which endures in the sight of God, — the 
 treasure of the mei-its and satisfactions of Jesus Christ, 
 of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and of the Saints, — or, in 
 other words, the sum of the satisfactions offered by our 
 Divine Redeemer, which were superabundant and infi- 
 nite, and, still further, of those of the most Holy Mary, 
 of the Martyrs, and the other Saints, which were not 
 needed by them for the expiation of their own faults." 
 These treasures suffer no diminution, however much they 
 may be drawn upon. 
 
 Indulgences, or drafts upon this treasure, are of two 
 classes, — the partial, and the plenary. A partial in- 
 dulgence remits the temporal punishment for a limited 
 time. That is, if a tolerably small sin be charged against 
 us with forty-nine, years of Purgatorial fire, seven par- 
 tial indulgences of seven years would discharge us of 
 this debt. But by a plenary indulgence all the temporal 
 punishment due for all our sins is remitted to us, — " so 
 
ROME. 207 
 
 that, if one should chance to die after having worthily 
 gained a plenary indulgence, the theologians affirm that 
 he would go directly to Paradise." 
 
 Nor are indulgences confined to the living; for, al- 
 though the Church does not dispense indulgences for the 
 dead absolutely, or so that they certainly accrue to the 
 advantage of any .given individual, she does so by way 
 of sufirage, as it is called. That is, one who desires to 
 relieve a soul from Purgatory may gain a plenary indul- 
 gence, — for a partial one would seem hardly worth gain- 
 ing, when plenary are to be had with equal ease, — and 
 may then offer it to God, praying Him to apply it to the 
 benefit of some special soul. But he cannot be certain 
 that God will so apply it ; he cannot " make the indul- 
 gence over to that soul, as if it were his own to bestow." 
 
 The conditions, by fulfilment of which indulgences are 
 to be gained, are, first, that whoever desires to obtain an 
 indulgence must be in a state of grace. This is secured 
 by true repentance combined with confession and com- 
 munion. If, however, for any reason, it is impossible 
 to confess previously to fulfilling the special conditions 
 attached to an indulgence, it is well to have a firm inten- 
 tion to confess, in order to recover the Divine grace, 
 should it have been lost. A weekly confession is suffi- 
 cient to secure the benefits of all such indulgences as are 
 to be gained from day to day, unless one should be con- 
 scious of the guilt of a mortal sin committed since the 
 last confession, in which case a new confession becomes 
 necessary. 
 
 In the second place, all the special conditions attached 
 
208 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 to any indulgence must be accurately performed. As, for 
 instance, one must not stand when the indulgence has 
 been granted for an act upon the knees. To ascend the 
 Scala Santa on one's feet would be an act of impiety ; to 
 go up its steps upon one's knees — a not difficult labor, 
 except for the stout or the rheumatic, for whom easier 
 modes of indulgence are provided — gains the remission 
 of two centuries and a half of Purgatorial fire. 
 
 And, finally, in the third place, to obtain plenary in- 
 dulgence, it is needful that one should hold his sins in 
 detestation, and should lay aside every inclination towards 
 them. And it is furthermore to be desired that the un- 
 dertaking to gain indulgences should be accompanied 
 by the worthy fruits of penitence, the good works and 
 penances of piety and devotion, in order to give some 
 satisfaction to the Divine Justice for the faults which 
 have been committed. 
 
 Such is the general theory of Indulgences. The Dedi- 
 cation of this Collection of Prayers affords a -curious 
 illustration of practical opinion in regard to their efficacy. 
 The Dedication is addressed (and it is to be remembered 
 that this book has the highest ecclesiastical sanction) to 
 the Holy Souls of Purgatory. The editor of this twelfth 
 edition recalls to their remembrance the fact, that the 
 original compiler of the work dedicated it to them as a 
 token of gratitude for the many graces and favors which 
 they had obtained for him, and also because the work 
 itself was of special interest to them, on account of so 
 many indulgences being applicable to them by way of 
 suiSrage. " Accept, then," he goes on, " accept, dear 
 
ROME. 209 
 
 Souls, this little offering, and consider the end that I pro- 
 pose and the affection with which I offer it. Spread over 
 me, Elect Souls, your most efficacious protection, . . . 
 and may this work bring to you that entrance for which 
 you sigh into the kingdom of glory ! " 
 
 Over the doors of many churches in Rome, and in 
 other cities, is to be seen an inscription, often bearing 
 much the character of a sign-board, with the words, 
 " Plenary Indulgence every day," — signifying, that, by 
 some Papal concession, plenary indulgence is to be 
 gained by attendance on the Mass at some special altar 
 in the church, or by the repetition of certain prayers at 
 this altar, on any day of the year. This sign has the 
 value of a recommendation of the church to the faithful, 
 and affords a means of attracting worshippers, whose alms 
 increase the revenues of the ecclesiastics attached to it. 
 
 It might be supposed that the ease with which plenary 
 indulgence is to be obtained would diminish the zeal in 
 seeking- for partial indulgences. But such is not the 
 case. The occasion of this may be that the imagination 
 is less affected by the thought of a complete remission of 
 the penalty due than by the consideration of shortening 
 the period of punishment by a definite number of days 
 or years. Few minds can grasp the indefinite concep- 
 tions of eternity with the vigor which may render them 
 as satisfactory as those which are bounded by the known 
 limits of years. So that, while the church of St. John 
 Lateran offers plenary indulgence daily at its altars, they 
 are less frequented by the common people, than the steps, 
 just across the way, of the Scala Santa. The tendency, 
 14 
 
210 TRAVEL AND STXJDY IN ITALY. 
 
 in this respect, is toward material rather than spiritual 
 conceptions. 
 
 The special observances attached to the obtaining of 
 various indulgences afford many illustrations of the pre- 
 vailing opinions in regard to the worship and the doctrine 
 of the Church. Thus, in the list contained in the Col- 
 lection, there are but five forms for the gaining of indul- 
 gence connected with the worship of God, in contrast 
 with thirty-five connected with that of the Virgin, — and 
 of the former, but one is immediately and exclusively 
 devoted to the Supreme Being. 
 
 One hundred days of indulgence were granted by 
 Pius VII. to whoever devoutly and with contrite heart 
 should recite the following ejaculation, as often as he 
 might recite it : " Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, I give you 
 my soul with my heart ! " This indulgence is also 
 applicable to the souls in Purgatory. A more attrac- 
 tive form of indulgence for the same period is offered 
 to those who repeat the famous hymn, Stahat Mater dolo- 
 rosa, — while those who daily recite, at morning, noon, 
 and evening, the Angelus Domini and three Ave Marias, 
 acquire, not only a hundred days' indulgence by each 
 repetition, but once a month plenary indulgence in 
 addition. 
 
 In many churches, especially in those frequented by 
 the lower classes, a Protestant is often shocked by rep- 
 resentations of the crucified Saviour, carved or painted 
 of the size of life, and in a style which betrays the ut- 
 most brutality of conception and the deadness of all true 
 reverence. The bloody horrors and abjectness of these 
 
ROME. 211 
 
 figures are beyond description. The more physically 
 disgusting they are, the better do they seem to be es- 
 teemed. Their object is to stimulate dull imaginations 
 and to inflame stupid hearts. Possibly this object may 
 in some instances be attained ; but a more common 
 effect, more common because more natural, is to de- 
 grade the popular conceptions of the character and the 
 sufferings of the Saviour, to substitute the coarsest fan- 
 cies for the most solemn and pathetic truths, and to min- 
 ister to a diseased craving for unnatural and detestable 
 excitements. In connection with these images, and ap- 
 pealing to the same low principles of superstition, are a 
 series of prayers to which great indulgences were aflSxed 
 by Pius VII., addressed to "the Most Holy "Wounds." 
 They are five in number. Too shocking to bear transla- 
 tion, (and yet they may be found translated in English 
 books of the devotions of the Roman Church,) it is 
 enough to read the words with which they open, " Vi 
 adoro, Saeratissima Piaga del Piede sinistro del mio Gem. 
 Vi compaiisco del dolore acerlissimo sofferto'' It is 
 enough to read these opening words, and to know that 
 they are among the most commonly used acts of devo- 
 tion, to gain an ineffaceable impression of the mourn- 
 ful perversion of the conceptions of prayer, the destruc- 
 tion of its holy sentiment, the loss of its spiritual influ- 
 ences, in those who are taught to use such forms, and 
 are instructed by the Church which claims absolute sub- 
 jection to its teachings, that these prayers are among 
 the means of salvation. 
 I do not mean to say that many pious and pure-minded 
 
212 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 persons may not use these prayers in a spirit which may 
 render them a true act of worship. I do not mean to 
 deny that they may derive a certain feeling of comfort 
 from their use, nor that the soul may often, in times of 
 weakness, be- stimulated to a fervor of sentiment resem- 
 bling real strength of reUgious feeling, by such material 
 images and words as these. But even in such instances, 
 the prayers and crucifixes of this sort address themselves 
 only to the morbid side of human nature. The Roman 
 Church is in nothing more skilful than in enlisting the 
 weaknesses of human nature in her cause. The blood 
 and the wounds of Christ are appeals to the imagination, 
 to be heightened by the scenic effects of superstition. I 
 have seen in a Roman church a painted representation 
 of souls burning and tortured in the fires of Purgatory, 
 while above was the Saviour on the cross, and from the 
 wounds in his hands and feet and side the blood was 
 pouring in streams upon the flames below. Immediately 
 at the side of this picture was a money-box with an in- 
 scription, asking alms for masses for the souls in Purga- 
 tory, for whom the Saviour had died. Is it strange that 
 one turns away from the system of Rome to the Gospels 
 with a sense as of turning to its very contrary ? 
 
 Equally familiar to all visitors of Roman Catholic 
 churches are the representations of the Stations of our 
 Lord, as they are called. These are usually cheap col- 
 ored engravings, fourteen in number, depicting our Sa- 
 viour before Pilate, — the scenes where he paused on his 
 way from the house of Pilate to Calvary, according to 
 the tradition of the Church, — the Crucifixion, the Depo- 
 
ROME. 213 
 
 sition, and the Laying in the Sepulchre. With these 
 pictures is connected the holy exercise of the Via Onc- 
 eis, which consists in passing from one to another of these 
 stations in their order, with meditation, hymns, and pray- 
 ers, in memory and imitation of the Saviour's progress. 
 Perhaps there is no devotional service more popular than 
 this, joined in as it is at appointed times by processions 
 of the people and pious confraternities, and its observ- 
 ance being connected with the amplest indulgences. Its 
 origin is of ancient date, and, according to the Soman 
 authoi'ities, it was instituted by the Virgin herself. Adri- 
 chomius, in his famous " Theatrum Terras Sanctse," says, 
 — " Pia habet traditio majorum Beatam Virginem, quae 
 cum suis cruenta Filii sui vestigia ad crucem usque se- 
 quuta fuit, post ejus sepulturam hue redeuntem, primam 
 Viam Crucis ex devotione calcSsse, unde et Christiano- 
 rum processiones ac crucis gestationes originem habere 
 videntur." And in that book of marvellous, though sanc- 
 tified coarseness and impiety, "The Eevelations of St. 
 Bridget," the Saint tells us that the Virgin declared to 
 her that she constantly visited the places of the sufferings 
 of her Son, — " Omni tempore post ascensionem Filii 
 mei, visitavi loca in quibus Ipse passus est." * The 
 Popes have liberally dispensed those treasures of the 
 Church, which are not to be diminished by any profuse- 
 ness of expenditure, upon those who practise this ancient 
 form of service ; and one of the most striking sights in 
 Kome is due to the regard in which the Via Qrueis is 
 held. 
 
 * Lib. vi. cap. 6. 
 
214 TKAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 It was in 1750, a year of Jubilee, that Benedict XIV. 
 instituted a confraternity of both sexes, under the name 
 of the Lovers of Jesus and Mary, and gave to them in 
 perpetuity the charge of the fourteen stations, and of the 
 crucifix which he had that year erected in the Colosseum, 
 The confraternity still exists, composed of lay members, 
 who practise charitable works, and, on the afternoons of 
 Fridays and Sundays and the feast-days of the year, 
 assemble within the walls of the Colosseum, and, after 
 an exhortation from a Franciscan friar, make the circuit 
 of the stations with hymns and prayers. The men are 
 dressed in long gray robes, with cowls that completely 
 conceal their features. The scene and the service are 
 impressive. The loud, clear voice of the friar resounds 
 through the dark arches and mounts over the broken 
 walls of the amphitheatre. The contrast in associations 
 between the memories that belong to the place and its 
 present use is strong and affecting, even in this city, 
 where the frequency of similar, but less, effective con- 
 trasts, wearies the feelings. The sermon over, the friar 
 descends from his platform, and puts himself at the head 
 of the irregular procession. He sings, as he advances to 
 the first station, — 
 
 " L' orme sangnigne 
 Del mio Signore 
 Tutto dolore 
 Seguiterb." 
 
 " The bloody steps of my Lord in grief will I follow." 
 And the people answer, — 
 
ROME. 215 
 
 " Vi prego, Gesi buono, 
 Per la Tostra Passione, 
 Darmi il Perdono! " 
 
 " O good Jesus, we pray thee, by .thy Passion, give us 
 pardon ! " 
 
 The sound of the singing of the people fills the vast 
 area of the Colosseum, — that space which has been so 
 often filled with the shrieks of the victims of Imperial or 
 popular cruelty. For the time, I join in the service, and 
 I seem to hear the voices of the martyrs who suffered for 
 Christ'g sake within these walls, taking part in the hymn 
 which the worshippers now kneeling are singing in honor 
 of our common Master and Lord. 
 
 "Adoramus te, Ohriste, et henedicimus tibi ! " sing the 
 voices, while others take up the words and respond, 
 " Quia per Sanctam Orucem tuam redemisii mundum." 
 
 There is no nobler church in Kome than this, with the 
 sky for its dome, with the wall-flowers and the wild trail- 
 ing plants for its draperies, with the wind for its great 
 organ, and the sun for the lights of its altar, — with its 
 soil sanctified by the blood of those who died for the 
 Faith, — with its ruinous walls telling of the fall of one 
 superstition, and foretelling the fall of another ; — sky, 
 and sun, and wind, and earth, and failing human walls, 
 all prophesying of the time, near in the sight of God, 
 though far off to our eyes, when truth shall prevail, and 
 the Church' of Christ be but another name for the world. 
 
 But the fervor of the imagination is chilled, and its 
 hopes are driven back worsted into the heart, as the sun 
 goes down behind the Palace of the Caesars, and, the ser- 
 
216 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 vice over, the masked brother clinks his money-box at 
 the exit of the amphitheatre. The realities of Rome 
 again prevail. 
 
 One might suppose, that, with so many and such easy 
 opportunities for gaining indulgences during life, few per- 
 sons would put off till their last hour the means neces- 
 sary to be taken for securing themselves against the 
 penal consequences of their sins. But such does not 
 seem to be the case, and the Church has provided ple- 
 nary indulgence in articvlo mortis for all who may then 
 receive the priestly benediction. The efficacy of a death- 
 bed repentance is unquestioned, particularly when ac- 
 companied with devout bequests. Money left for masses 
 for the repose of the soul of the dead paves the way to 
 eternal bliss ; and in one of the noblest Italian cathedrals 
 I have seen a priest on a high festival day sitting at a 
 table with an account-book before him, entering in it the 
 sums received from the poor worshippers who crowded 
 about him, with their money in their hands, to purchase 
 masses for the souls of their beloved dead. The money- 
 changers had returned to the temple. 
 
 The discussion with regard to the utility of indul- 
 gences, and the attacks upon the whole system, have 
 been going on for centuries, and have engaged the 
 forces of the ablest controversialists. That the practice 
 of the Church has not been more greatly changed in this 
 respect by such persevering assaults affords strong ground 
 for believing that a system productive of such scandals 
 would not be maintained, unless profit resulted from it to 
 the ministers of the Church. The system, moreover, is 
 
ROME. 217 
 
 maintained with comparative ease, because it harmonizes 
 with the weakness of uninstructed human nature, affords 
 a pleasant retreat to vice, renders immorality compatible 
 with the practices of religion and with the hopes of Par- 
 adise, — and also because, so far as Italy is concerned, 
 there is no freedom of discussion, and men's minds are 
 not stirred with the suggestions of other and more ra- 
 tional fornis of belief and modes of worship. 
 
 But to an observer stationed outside the Church, and 
 watching without passion the course of affairs within, the 
 practical results of this doctrine present themselves under 
 two aspects. The lessons of past history are repeated in 
 present experience ; and the old debate is reopened in 
 the latest words of to-day. 
 
 " Ne croyons pas,'' says Massillon, " que les gr&ces de 
 I'Eglise nous aient purifle, si elles ne nous ont pas 
 chang^ ; ne comptons sur son indulgence qu'autant que 
 nous pouvons compter sur un sincere repentir." * In his 
 noted treatise, " Sulla Morale Cattolica," written in re- 
 ply to Sismondi's charges against the morality of Eoman 
 
 * Mandement pmir la PubUcalion de JvhiU, 15 Nov., 1724. But 
 the docti'ines of the eloquent Bishop of Clermont may be seen at 
 large in his Instruction sur le Jvhile; one sentence of which will 
 show to what conceptions of the nature of God, to what practical and 
 revolting heathenism, even good men are led by the teachings of the 
 Roman Church. "Ah! I'Eglise autrefois elle-mSme, plus indnlgeute 
 sans doute que le Dieu terrible, puisqu'elle n'^toit occup^e qu'a I'a- 
 paiser, qu'a adoucir par les rigueurs canoniques la sentence du sou- 
 verain Juge, et qu'elle ne punissoit ses enfans que comme une mere; 
 I'Eglise elle-mgme, pour un sen! crime, imposoit autrefois de tongues 
 ann^es de travaux et de penitence." 
 
218 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 doctrine, in the " History of the Italian Republics," Man- 
 zoni says, " Dire che le Indulgenze ottengono la i-emis- 
 sione della pena, senza la conversione del cuore, e la bra- 
 ma di soddisfare, e empieti, che, grazie al Cielo, non e 
 insegnato da alcuno nella Chiesa." * " To say that In- 
 dulgences obtain the remission of punishment, unless 
 there be conversion of the heart, and desire to make sat- 
 isfaction, is an impiety which, thanks be to Heaven, is 
 taught by no one in the Church." Such is unquestiona- 
 bly the case. The teaching of the authorities of the 
 Church is now uniform upon this point. The enlight- 
 ened Catholic receives indulgence as a gift which is to be 
 gained only by sincere repentance, by leaving and utterly 
 casting off his sins. Indulgence is to him as the manifest 
 proof of the grace of God, ever ready to welcome back 
 the prodigal with full forgiveness ; and all the sweet 
 parables of the mercy of the Lord seem concentrated into 
 a personal experience by means of this consohng testi- 
 mony of pardon. The Church assures him of that for- 
 giveness which he has been taught to seek through her. 
 The Church stands between him and God. And here 
 lies the chief evil of this doctrine in its application to the 
 better sort of men. It substitutes a material and visible 
 form for a spiritual condition. It withdraws the imagina- 
 tion from the things of the Spirit. It conforms to the 
 tendency of human weakness to draw God down to itself, 
 instead of lifting itself to God. It interferes with the 
 close relation of the soul and its Father, and mediates be- 
 tween them as if they were or could be parted. 
 * Cap. XI. Delle Indulgenze. 
 
ROME. 219 
 
 But the second aspect under which the practical results 
 of this doctrine exhibit themselves is even more conclu- 
 sive against it. The teaching of the Church is not in the 
 hands of careful thinkers alone, and of those who are 
 called authorities, anxious to preserve its doctrines from 
 abuse. The teachers it employs are not all Bossuets and 
 Massillons, but far more generally men of imperfect edu- 
 cation, and elevated only by the title of Priest above the 
 common run of men. The abuses of doctrine often tend 
 to the advantage of ecclesiastics. The poor and the ig- 
 norant receive little instruction which may enable them 
 to attain even that moderate degree of spiritual enlight- 
 enment by which they might gain a true comprehension 
 of the conditions attached to indulgences. It is not to be 
 disputed that the mass of the people in Home, who seek 
 and suppose themselves to acquire indulgences, have a 
 very imperfect notion of the nature of penitence. It 
 is generally supposed to be a state of regret for past 
 sin, — not a determination to depart from sin in future. 
 An indulgence wipes out the temporal penalty of past 
 sin, — and practically it is too often considered as a good 
 starting-point for the commission of sin, which may, in its 
 turn, be confessed, repented of, and easily expiated. 
 With many, an indulgence is an indulgence to sin. This 
 is deplored by enlightened Catholics themselves. And 
 no one can be well acquainted with the condition of the 
 lower classes in Italy, without seeing that the system of 
 indulgences has a direct tendency to weaken the sense of 
 moral obligation, to confuse the popular notions of Divine 
 justice, to destroy purity of heart, and to promote a gen- 
 eral immorality. 
 
220 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 EoME, Bth January, 1867. 
 
 The gardens attached to the Vatican palace have but 
 little beauty at this season. There is an utter want of 
 taste in the manner in which they are laid out ; and as 
 gardens, they are on a level with the palace as a palace. 
 They contain some interesting pieces of ancient sculpture ; 
 but the object of chief interest within them is the pine- 
 cone of bronze which was originally on the summit of 
 Hadrian's Mausoleum, which was afterwards placed as 
 an ornament in front of the old basilica of St. Peter, 
 and which, on the rebuilding of the church, was re- 
 moved to the place it now occupies in the quiet garden 
 of the Belvedere. It is one of the few objects in Rome 
 which Dante has commemorated. He saw it when it be- 
 longed to the church ; for he says that the face of the 
 giant Nimrod seemed to him as long and large as the 
 pine-cone of St. Peter's at Rome.* 
 
 The gardens are inhabited by a race of shuffling, per- 
 tinacious old gardeners, of the same nature as the guar- 
 dians of the sculpture gallery, save that their hands are 
 dirty with earth and snuff, instead of with snuff and dust. 
 There is also here a tribe of cats, — black, black-and- 
 white, brown, gray, tortoise-shell, yellow, — some hMf- 
 asleep in the sun on the terrace, some snarling at each 
 other, some prowling through the hedges, some rubbing 
 themselves against broken marbles, some licking them- 
 selves into comfortable sleekness, and some hiding in 
 holes in the walls. My theory concerning their exist- 
 ence is, that they are cardinals transmigrated, — cardinals 
 
 * Inferno^ xxxi. 59. 
 
ROME. 221 
 
 of the tabby order, — some with claws sheathed, some 
 with backs up and claws out, some lazy and well fed, 
 some winking and dozing here as of old on the benches 
 of the Sistine Chapel, some with half-shut wily eyes, — 
 all transformed to the similitude of what they were. 
 There is a sly Dominican in his black-and-white robes, 
 and by his side a dirty-brown Capuchin, — and there is a 
 demure black Jesuit lying asleep with one eye open. 
 Such is the transmigration of the souls of cardinals ! 
 
 Rome, 6th January, 1857. The Epiphany. 
 Instead of going to the Ara Celi to see the procession 
 of the Bambino, the pleasant-looking but dirty crowd, 
 the bad monks, and the curious exhibition of superstition 
 and credulity on the part of the performers and the spec- 
 tators, I went to San Luigi de' Francesi, to hear a 
 French preacher who has been attracting large audiences 
 for the past fortnight, and who, to-day, was to deliver his 
 last sermon, before his return to Paris. He is the Pere 
 . Petitot, and he is said to be of most holy life. He is the 
 present head, as I am told, of the Oratorians in France, 
 an order based on the rule of San Filippo Neri, with 
 certain modifications in discipline. The audience was a 
 very large one, consisting mostly of French residents in 
 Rome, French soldiers, and other strangers. There 
 were few Romans present. The preacher had, obvious- 
 ly, heard that many Protestants had been attracted to 
 hear him ; and on entering the pulpit, he began his dis- 
 course by saying that he regarded this as the most im- 
 
222 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 portant occasion on which he had spoken frora that 
 place, — that he was about to preach on some of the dif- 
 ferences between Catholicism and Protestantism, and, in 
 doing so, to address the heai-t rather than to exercise the 
 reason. His voice was sweet, its tones full of pathos, 
 and his manner direct and earnest. Before beginning, 
 he said he desired to pray, and to have his hearers join 
 him in prayer, for the blessing of Heaven upon his words, 
 — upon which, the people knelt upon the pavement, aud 
 for a moment engaged in prayer. He then said that the 
 main purpose of his sermon would be to present the con- 
 solations possessed by the Catholic in his religion, of 
 which the Protestant was deprived ; that he should do 
 this in the spirit of love and charity, — for that without 
 love no soul was ever won, no true convert ever made, — 
 and that, if the heart were rendered bitter by one who 
 desired to bring it to God, his work was not only vain, 
 but unchristian. Then he began. 
 
 " Think, in the first place, mes tres chers freres, of 
 what surpassing consolation those who do not share in 
 the Catholic faith are deprived, in not having the pres- 
 ence of our Lord in the Eucharist ! We receive him 
 bodily there ; we know him to be there, as we know 
 him to be in heaven ; he is close to us, — in our com- 
 pany ; he lives with us in real presence, as he lived 
 with his apostles. He then went on to speak of the 
 Protestant being without the consolation of a spiritual 
 father and guide upon earth, possessed by those within 
 the Church who rested upon his counsels and listened 
 to his voice with the conviction of its absolute authority 
 
ROME. 223 
 
 and truth ; without the consolation of those blessed gifts 
 of the Church, confession and absolution, so that they 
 can never know that their penitence is accepted and their 
 sins forgiven; without the consolations afforded by the 
 Blessed Virgin, without a Mother in heaven, unto whose 
 tender heart her children can always come to repose, 
 who comforts them in their sorrows, and whose prayeis 
 and tears are always interceding for them ; without the 
 Saints, so that they have no communion with holy spir- 
 its, and are under the care of no holy protectors, — " not 
 supported, as we are, by the living and acting presence of 
 the martyrs and saints of all ages." "Take from the 
 Sister of Charity her rosary, her Virgin, and her Saints, 
 and see what she would become ! " Without belief in a 
 guardian angel ; — " and what a belief, rich in consola- 
 tion and delight, is this, — to be accompanied through life 
 by a celestial friend ! Before I came here this afternoon, 
 I prayed to my guax'dian angel to direct me in what I 
 should speak ; I feel his presence with me. I prayed to 
 the guardian angels of those who hear me that they 
 should cause my words to reach hearts nlade ready to 
 receive them." Without the consolation of praying for 
 the dead ; so that the memory of the dead is desolate. 
 And without the consolation of the crucifix and the wor- 
 ship of the cross. " Ah ! mes tres chers freres, what a 
 joy has the Christian in his crucifix ! — to hold your dy- 
 ing Saviour in your hand, to look on your God face to 
 face, to press him to your heart, to bathe him with your 
 tears, to speak to him, to kiss those beloved features, and 
 to feel his love enter into your heart with a kiss ! Ah ! 
 
224 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 dear brothers who are not Catholics, let me implore you 
 to get for yourselves a crucifix, to gaze upon it, to bear it 
 with you, to place it on your pillows, and to see if my 
 words are not true, of the strength, the happiness, the 
 consolation it will give you 1 " 
 
 After preaching for an hour in this strain, with many 
 passages made eloquent by the fervor of his feeling, as 
 well as by skilful oratory, he said, — "I have one word 
 to say before I conclude, one word of logic, the only one 
 in my discourse. If, as I have declared, and as all 
 Catholics will declare with me, these consolations of 
 which I have spoken are the most precious that our re- 
 ligion affords us, — if they are what most raise and rejoice 
 our souls, — if they are to us the very essence of spir- 
 itual life on earth, — then I say that they are of God, 
 they are not man's inventions. It is not possible for 
 man to surpass God Himself in those things which are 
 the best that religion brings to us. All our happiness is 
 from God ; and because these are our choicest blessings, 
 we know them to be from Him." 
 
 It was dark before the Pere Pctitot had ended his ser- 
 mon ; but the congregation had stayed, listening with the 
 utmost attention. It was thought a very beautiful and 
 very powerful discourse. It certainly afforded a remark- 
 able illustration of the prevailing tendency in Catholicism 
 to materialize the immaterial, and to substitute the Church 
 for the Gospel. The step from such a sermon as this to 
 the worship of the Bambino, or to any lower and more 
 superstitious observance, if any such there be, is but a 
 short one. Yet it is not to be doubted that Pere Petitot 
 
ROME. 225 
 
 laments the errors of such superstitious observances, s(hd 
 is a devout, and what would be called an enlightened 
 Catholic. 
 
 EoME, 20tli January, 1857. 
 
 , the German sculptor, who has been long in 
 
 Rome, told, the other day, a story which illustrates well 
 the mode in which small affairs are managed here. In 
 1849, in the course 'of some excavations on the Vicolo 
 delle Palme, in Trastevere, the bronze head of a horse, 
 now in the Capitol Museum, was discovered, and with it 
 the magnificent statue of the Athlete scraping himself 
 with a Strigil, which is in the Braccio Nuovo at the Vat- 
 ican. One or two fragments of other works were found 
 at the same time, and, as the grounds of the Anician 
 family had once occupied this portion of the city, it was 
 reasonably believed that further excavations would briqg 
 to light other precious works of Art. The government 
 proposed to purchase the land, but the owners, stimulated 
 by the discoveries already made, asked a price which was 
 considered exorbitant, and the government declined to go 
 on with the bargain. The owners determined to continue 
 _ the excavations on their own account, but the authorities 
 at once laid an interdict on their proceeding. If the 
 government could not have the land, they could at least 
 prevent its being dug over ! And so the matter has stood 
 up to the present time. After a statue has been buried 
 a thousand years or more, it matters, perhaps, but little 
 to it that it should lie underground ten or twenty years 
 longer ; but it is of some consequence to the lovers of Art 
 
 15 
 
226 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 of this generation whether it be kept hidden from them 
 or not. The chance of finding a statue after Lysippus is 
 not to be slighted. This StrigilcUore is supposed to be 
 a copy in marble of the famous bronze statue by that 
 sculptor, which was set up by Agrippa before his Baths 
 near the Pantheon, and which was so much admired by 
 Tiberius, that, shortly after he became emperor, he caused 
 it to be removed to his bed-room, and another statue to 
 be put in its place. But at this, the indignation of the 
 Romans was aroused, and, with great clamor, they de- 
 manded that their favorite statue should be restored to 
 them, and Tiberius was forced to yield it up, quanqimm 
 ctdamatum.* 
 
 That other relics of ancient Art, of equal worth with 
 this, might be found in the same locality is no extrava- 
 gant supposition. " The marbles of the Anician palace," 
 says Gibbon, " were used as a proverbial expression of 
 opulence and splendor." f From the reign of Diocletian 
 to the fall of the "Western Empire, the Anician family 
 was unsurpassed among the great houses of Eome, in 
 wealth and in reputation, — and its glory expired only 
 with the death of Boethius, the last famous descendant 
 of the long line of Senators and Consuls. 
 
 Modern Eome is built upon ruins. "What war and fire 
 and the ravages of barbarian conquerors left of ancient 
 splendor, the Romans themselves, still more barbarian, — 
 people, princes, and popes, — have conspired to destroy. 
 
 * Pliny, Nat. Hist., Lib. XXXIV. xix. 12. The statue was then 
 known under the name of the ApoxyomeTWS. 
 t Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, a. 31. 
 
ROME. 227 
 
 Nicholas V. pulled down the magnifleenfc tomh of one of 
 the greatest of the Anician family, which stood in his 
 way upon the Vatican, and only the memory of its in- 
 scriptions and its sculptures is preserved in the dry pages 
 of the ecclesiastical annalist. Beneath the very pave- 
 ment of the streets and squares of Rome lie buried treas- 
 ures of Art. The words which Cicero uses, in speaking 
 of the city, have now a double meaning : " Quacumgue 
 enim ingredimur, in aliquam historiam vestigium poni- 
 mvs." " Which way soever we walk, we set our foot 
 upon some history." It was but the other day, that, as I 
 was watching the men digging a trench for the gas-pipes 
 near the Fountain of Trevi, I saw them turn up a hand- 
 ful of rust-eaten Imperial coins. In excavating for the 
 foundation of the new column in the Piazza di Spagna, 
 the bust of a Dacian king was found, which, after its long 
 interment, is now placed on show in the Vatican Gallery. 
 Of the host of ancient statues and works in marble in the 
 museums, almost aU have been discovered underground. 
 The bosom of the earth has been, and is stUl, the great 
 storehouse of sculpture. Happily, an interdict cannot be 
 laid on all digging. The Roman gardeners, in making 
 their trenches for cabbages or cauliflowers, will still find 
 some long-hidden marble or turn up some broken inscrip- 
 tion. Or, if digging be stopped, the rains will do a par- 
 tial work. It was on New Year's day, as I was walking 
 toward Rome from the Torre de' Schiavi, — near which 
 I had been picking up bits of the ancient mosaic of the 
 Gordian villa, laid bare by the late rains, — that I saw 
 by the side of the road, half-washed out of the bank, a 
 
228 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 bit of white marble. I took it up, and found that it was 
 part of the leg of an old statue ; and a few steps farther 
 on, seeing a flat piece of statuary marble lying in the 
 cart-track by the side of the main road, I turned it over, 
 and found on its under side a portion of a bas-relief of 
 Leda, not unskilfully worked. Such discoveries as these 
 — worth much to one who comes from a land whose soil 
 is barren in carved stones — will be made by every one 
 who frequents the Campagna. My table is already 
 loaded with bits of marble, pieces of inscriptions, frag- 
 ments of brick ornament, and parcels of mosaic, that I 
 have picked up in the fields, on my walks during this 
 last month. 
 
 There is many a wall in Rome made of old mate- 
 rials strangely joined together, — bits of ancient bricks 
 stamped with a Consular date, pieces of the shaft of some 
 marble column, fragments of serpentine, or even of giaUo 
 antico, that once made part of the polished pavement of 
 a palace, — now all combined in one strange harmony by 
 Nature, who seems to love these walls, and to reclaim 
 them to herself by tinting their vai-ious blocks with every 
 hue of weather-stain, and hanging over them her loveliest 
 draperies of wall-flower and mosses. In one of the pre- 
 cepts of his " Trattato della Pittura," Leonardo da Vinci 
 says, " Se riguarderai in alcuni muri imbrattati, o pietre 
 di varii mischi, potrai quivi vedere 1' inventione e similitu- 
 dine di diversi paesi, diverse battaglie, atti pronti di figu- 
 re, strane arie di volti ed habiti, ed infinite altre cose.'' 
 " If thou wilt look at old stained walls, or at stones vari- 
 ously mixed together, thou shalt see on them the sugges- 
 
ROME. 229 
 
 tion and similitude of landscapes, of battles, of lively 
 actions of figures, of strange aspects of face and dress, 
 and numberless other things." Nor thus are the sugges- 
 tions of the Eoman walls exhausted. The landscapes 
 ■which the fancy discovers on them are of the Campagna 
 before it was desolate ; the battles which one sees are 
 those in which the statues were hurled down, whose 
 broken fragments are built into the wall ; and the lively 
 actions and strange aspects which the wandering lines of 
 rain and the cracking heats of the sun have traced for 
 the imagination upon the stones seem those of the foreign 
 conquerors and the frightened people in whose struggles 
 Rome was ruined. The whole history of the decline and 
 fall of the city is to be i-ead in these unconsciously mon- 
 umental walls. Out of the chance materials that offered 
 to his hand, the ignorant bricklayer has built up many 
 a memorial, on which is recorded, not in words, the for- 
 tunes of the Roman State. There is no end to the 
 stories on these walls. All the strange things they have 
 heard, the whispers, the sighs, the screams, the crackling 
 of fire, the shouts of soldiers, the sobs, the prayers, — all, 
 " and numberless other things,'' are to be found in their 
 stones, and, as Leonardo goes on to say, " by these con- 
 fused things the fancy is roused to new inventions.'' 
 
 Rome, 20th February, 1857. 
 The cheap literature of Rome all passes, previously to 
 its publication, under priestly supervision. Indeed, no 
 book, no pamphlet, no placard is printed at Rome with- 
 
230 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 out the ecclesiastical imprimatur. Books cannot be 
 entirely done away with ; but the evil consequences re- 
 sulting ft-om unlicensed printing may be diminished ; and 
 to this beneficent end the Church bends her powers, and 
 suppresses, alters, blots out whatever may lead her sub- 
 jects astray. It is a common story, that the man who 
 lights the cross on St. Peter's dome, on occasion of the 
 illumination, receives absolution before setting about his 
 dangerous task. It may be hoped, that, with some equal 
 provision of mercy, the Church protects those of her cen- 
 sors whom she employs to detect what is bad in books, 
 and who thus generously peril their own salvation for the 
 sake of the common safety. The " Athenaeum '' came to 
 us the other day with the article on Milraan's " History 
 of Latin Christianity " carefully blotted out ; from the 
 " Revue des Deux Mondes " of the fifteenth of January, 
 the article on " Italic : Son Avenir," etc., is gone ; and 
 from the " Revue " of the first of February three leaves 
 are cut out of the middle of Montegut's article on Miche- 
 let. This care in regard to what is read and what is not 
 read by the Romans gives special interest to certain 
 classes of books which are permitted, inasmuch as they 
 may be regarded as containing such views, opinions, and 
 statements as are deemed to be of importance to the peo- 
 ple, or at least to have no vital error and no evil tendency. 
 One of these classes of books, and perhaps the one which 
 has the greatest popularity, is the literature relating to 
 the saints and to miracles. It takes much the same 
 place as the literature of quack medicines with us, — 
 its aim being similar, and its appeals being addressed 
 
ROME. 231 
 
 to that large body in every community who have more 
 credulity than sense. The art of puffing a saint or a 
 miraculous image for the celerity and variety of the 
 cures effected by them has been carried to a high de- 
 gree of excellence by the authors of these works. 
 
 I have here a little yellow-covered pamphlet, called 
 "Historic Notices of the Most Holy Mary of the Child, 
 venerated in S. Augustine at Eome." It was published 
 in 1853, and is a fair specimen of its class. The statue 
 which is the object of veneration stands near the main 
 entrance to the church. It derives its name of Santis- 
 sima Maria del Parto from the fact that it represents the 
 Virgin seated with the Child standing upon her lap. Its 
 origin is uncertain, but it is commonly attributed to the 
 chisel of the Florentine sculptor, Giacomo Tatti, who 
 assumed the name of Sansovino in honor of his master, 
 and who died in 1570. The opinion of those who regard 
 this work as being a likeness of Agrippina with the 
 young Nero in her arms is considered to be ill founded. 
 It appears that for many years this statue had received 
 only that general regard which all images of the Virgin 
 receive in greater or less degree from Eoman worship- 
 pers, until, in 1820, a devout youth proposed to set up a 
 lamp to burn before it day and night, and paid the sacris- 
 tan of the church a haioeco and a half a day to keep it 
 well supplied with oil. Others of the faithful soon imi- 
 tated the example of this good youth, and the piety of the 
 common people who attended the services of the church 
 was speedily awakened toward the statue by the number 
 of lamps and candles burning around it. The feeling 
 
232 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 thus aroused was soon quickened into enthusiastic devo- 
 tion by the report of miracles wrought through the inter- 
 cession of the Virgin here worshipped. Crowds gathered 
 round the marvel-working statue. Many persons dipped 
 their fingers into the oil of the open lamps, regarding it as 
 of sacred virtue ; and the drapery of the figure became so 
 dirtied by the dripping of the oil, that the guardians of 
 the church were obliged to interfere, to regulate the num- 
 ber of lamps that should be burned, and to suspend them 
 beyond the reach of the worshippers. But in order that 
 such piety should not be frustrated, bits of cotton soaked 
 in the oil and wrapped in paper were provided for 
 sale to the devout. Votive tablets commemorative of 
 cures and deliverance were hung around, and offerings 
 of money, either in gratitude for favors received or to 
 purchase such favors as prayers would not obtain, were 
 laid before the Virgin, until at length it was thought fit to 
 place a money-box near the statue for the reception of 
 these offerings. This gave rise to suspicions, which are 
 declared to have been unjust, of the desire of the Augus- 
 tinians to make money for themselves out of their good- 
 fortune in having so powerful a statue, — but, in spite of 
 the calumny, the money-box was not removed. So great 
 were the crowds, and so noisy in their cries to the Virgin, 
 that scandal followed, and the church was the scene of 
 many irreverent displays, until the modes of worship 
 were at length properly regulated. 
 
 Meanwhile frequent acts of grace exerted by the Vir- 
 gin strengthened the reverence in which the statue was 
 held. The first case narrated at length is that of Ger- 
 
ROME. 233 
 
 trude Palombi, a girl of nineteen years old, who, after 
 long suffering from an aneurism and inflammation of the 
 lungs, having been brought to death's door and given 
 over by the physicians, was suddenly restored by being 
 anointed with oil from the lamps. The medical details 
 of her case are given at great length, and are followed, 
 in the usual place of the medical certificate, by a Latin 
 decree of the Vicariate, declaring the miraculous nature 
 of the cure. 
 
 The next is a still more remarkable case, owing to the 
 peculiar complication of disorders from which the patient 
 suffered, — namely, extreme pains in the stomach, an 
 enormous tumor on the shoulder, sciatica, convulsions, 
 swelling of the limbs, hemicrania, fever, paralysis, and 
 lockjaw ! So near had she approached to death, that the 
 parish priest was sent for to administer the last oiEces 
 of the Church. But the girl had committed herself to 
 Maria del Parto, a picture of whose image was hanging 
 by her bedside, and at this last moment she was anointed 
 by her faithful attendants with oil from the lamps. She 
 at once fell quietly asleep, and when she awoke she de- 
 clared that the Madonna, such as she was seen in the 
 church of St. Augusdhe, had appeared to her, and with 
 her own hand had anointed her with oil. At the same 
 moment all her diseases left her ; she rose cured from 
 her bed, and the next day proceeded to the church, ac- 
 companied by her relations and friends, to render thanks 
 for so signal a grace. A process was instituted to inves- 
 tigate the case, and in 1827 a decree was issued by the 
 Cardinal Vicar, of which the following is a portion : 
 
234 Tli.WEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 " Itaque, audita relatione, viso processu, lectis testium 
 examinibus, juribus et documentis, iis sedulo matureque 
 consideratis, consultationibus quoque requisitis theologo- 
 rum, raedici physici deputati, aliorumque virorum, juxta 
 formam Sac. Cone. Trident, sess. 25, de invocat. venerat., 
 et reliquiis sanctorum, et sacris imaginibus, diximus, pro- 
 iiuntiavimus, et definitive declaravimus, plene constare de 
 vero insignique miraculo a Deo opt. maximo, intercedente 
 Beata Maria Virgine, patrato, videlicet, instantanese per- 
 fectaeque sanationis ConstantisB Tondini a multiplici gra- 
 vissimorum ac diutumorum morboruin congerie, qui earn 
 ad obitum trabebant, cum Integra virium restitutione, nul- 
 loque crisis interventu.'' The authority appointed for 
 the purpose, and speaking with all the weight of infalli- 
 bility, thus declared that a true and wonderful miracle 
 had been wrought, and an order was given that the rela- 
 tion of this miracle should receive the widest publicity. 
 
 So formal a confirmation of the virtue of this image 
 naturally increased the reverence in which it was held, 
 and numerous wonders followed rapidly from the trust 
 reposed in the Virgin represented by it. Many of them 
 are reported at length. One more is, perhaps, worth 
 repeating here, because of a different kind from those 
 which precede. Vincenzo di Gennaro had fallen asleep 
 one summer's night, when a spark from the lamp burn- 
 ing by his bedside fell upon his clothes, which were lying in 
 a heap on a chair. Flames were quickly kindled. " In 
 a moment," says the account, " they would have seized 
 the bed and devoured it, together with him who lay on if, 
 sleeping in ignorance of his danger of being stifled and 
 
ROME. 235 
 
 burned before he was aware ; when all of a sudden a 
 shake from an invisible hand awoke him. He leaped 
 from the bed, beheld the flames, and succeeded in extin- 
 guishing them. His clothes were in ashes, — all burned, 
 save the pocket of his waistcoat, in which was a paper 
 containing a rag that had been dipped in the oil of the 
 Madonna del Parte, — a substance most prone to com- 
 bustion. He recognized the double favor of the Ma- 
 donna, in arousing him, and in preserving him unhurt by 
 the fire, by means of the marvellous oil ! " 
 
 After the narrative of wonders has extended over 
 many pages, the reader is called upon to admire the 
 irinumerable gifts which have been made to the image, 
 and to regard them as proofs of the efficacy of the inter- 
 cession of the Virgin worshipped under it. The gifts 
 show that avarice yields to gratitude. Eich and poor 
 have equally brought their oflferings. Queen Maria 
 Christina of Spain has bestowed a great chain of gold, 
 and the wealthy Torlonias have presented many mag- 
 nificent ornaments. Necklaces, bracelets, diamonds, and 
 other precious stones attest the devotion or the hopes of 
 their givers. The familiar definition of gratitude may be 
 supposed to hold good in many of these cases. " Behold 
 ihung around, in silver and in gold, hearts, arms, legs, 
 hands, feet, eyes, ears, and the rest, — and on all thou 
 wilt read P. G. R., — Per Grazia Ricemita : For 
 Favor Received." 
 
 To such fame did the statue rise, that, in 1851, by a 
 solemn decree of the Chapter of St. Peter, it was or- 
 dained that it should receive the honor of a coronation. 
 
236 TEAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 the final and highest testimony of the Church to its 
 miraculous virtues. The services connected with this 
 ceremonial were performed by illustrious cardinals, with 
 great pomp, with the bestowal of plenary indulgence, and 
 with general rejoicing and concourse of the faithful. A 
 golden crown was placed on the head of the Virgin, and 
 another on that of her Son, on the festival of the Visita- 
 tion. Since that time these wonders have not ceased. 
 
 Such is a specimen of the art of pufiSng, as practised 
 at Home. The difference betw^een the quacks of the 
 Papal city and those of Protestant countries is that of 
 their professions. The ecclesiastical is more dangerous 
 than the medical impostor. 
 
 I would not be understood as implying that many of 
 the cases reported in this class of publications are not 
 reported truly. The influence of imagination is undoubt- 
 edly one of the great curative powers, and faith in reme- 
 dies is one of the frequent precursors of recovery. 
 Imposture and credulity, it was long ago remarked, go 
 hand in hand. It was one of Lord Bacon's shrewd ob- 
 servations, that; " although they appear to be of a diverse 
 nature, the one seeming to proceed of cunning and the 
 other of simplicity, yet certainly they do for the most 
 part concur." Nor would I be understood as asserting 
 that the processes of examination adopted in regard to 
 the evidence of these marvels, before the dogmatic sanc- 
 tion of them as miracles, were careless, hasty, or un- 
 fair. I have no doubt that the testimony to the facts 
 was ample, consistent, and honest. But there are con- 
 ditions of belief, resulting from education and preposses- 
 
EOME. 237 
 
 sion, which may affect the value of men's testimony 
 upon large classes of subjects, — which may, indeed, ren- 
 der their testimony utterly worthless, without affecting its 
 sincerity. 
 
 But that such a state of things should exist at the 
 present time in Rome is a proof of the continuance there 
 of what we are apt to suppose ceased with the Middle 
 Ages, — that condition of general belief, and those men- 
 tal habits, which gave to those ages their common appel- 
 lation of Dark. The Roman people belong to the Dark 
 Ages. Even Bacon, writing more than two centuries 
 ago, in a passage in the " Advancement of Learning " 
 which follows close on the sentence just quoted, could 
 speak' of the "too easily received and registered reports 
 and narrations of miracles " wrought by saints, relics, or 
 images, as already passed. They had "had passage 
 for a time, by the ignorance of the people, the supersti- 
 tious simplicity of some, and the politic toleration of 
 others, holding them but as divine poesies ; yet, after a 
 period of time, when the mist began to clear up, they 
 grew to be esteemed but as old wives' fables, impostures 
 of the clergy, illusions of spirits, and badges of Antichrist, 
 to the great scandal and detriment of religion." 
 
 The earnestness with which miraculous intervention is 
 sought, the confidence in its frequent occurrence, and the 
 ease with which stories of miracles are received, are 
 proofs not merely of the prevalence of superstition and 
 false notions of the nature of God, but also of a state 
 of general opinion in which the usual laws of probabil- 
 ity as applied to evidence no longer hold good. In a 
 
238 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 State of society in which miracles are expected ta be of 
 not infrequent occurrence, and where the antecedent im- 
 probability of such an event has no weight in determin- 
 ing the final judgment in regard to an interruption of the 
 common courses of Nature, no amount of common human 
 testimony would be sufficient to establish the fact of a 
 miracle. Where miracles are expected, events which 
 bear enough of their external characteristics to be 
 mistaken for them by the mass of the people will be 
 easily met with. That a man believes a miracle to have 
 taken place in himself is no proof that one has actually 
 taken place. Few men are able to trace the causes of 
 effects in their physical system, -r— still fewer in their 
 mental processes and their spiritual experiences.* The 
 whole history of Revivals — a history which painfully 
 exhibits the lowness of the religious spirit and character 
 of many Protestant communities — is full of instances of 
 
 * In that most confidential of books, The Diary of Mr. Samuel 
 P^s, its excellent author makes the following entry, under date of 
 20th January, 1664-B : " Homeward, in my way buying a hare, and 
 taking it home ; which arose upon my discourse to-day with Mr. Bat- 
 ten, in Westminster Hall, who showed me my mistake, that my hare's 
 foot hath not the joint to it, and assures me he never had his choiiqne 
 since he caiTied it about him; and it is a strange thing how fancy 
 works, for I no sooner handle his foot, but I become very well, and so 
 continue." 
 
 The next day he writes, — "Now mighty well; and truly I can but 
 impute it to my hare's foot." 
 
 And on the 26th of March following, he enters upon his journal, 
 
 — "I never was better in my life Now I am at a loss to know 
 
 whether it be my hare's foot which is my preservation; for I never 
 had a fit of the collique since I wore it; or whether it be my taking 
 of a pill of turpentine every morning." 
 
EOME. 239 
 
 imperceptible causes working the most extraordinary 
 results. But because the natural causes cannot be dis- 
 covered, it is not therefore to be argued that they are 
 supernatural. Such, however, is the popular mode of 
 reasoning, among the ignorant ; it is the mode among the 
 Romans. From their infancy, the Romans are taught to 
 believe that the Virgin and the Saints are not only their 
 spiritual consolers and guides, but protectors from earth- 
 ly perils, healers of bodily maladies, and guardians of 
 worldly goods. Two plain results follow from this, — 
 superstitious devotion, and blasphemous irreverence. 
 The Virgin and the Saints who fail to answer the pray- 
 ers that are made to them are cursed with a heartiness 
 proportioned to the fervor of the previous petition. 
 
 It is not difficult to see to what advantage such a spirit 
 may be turned hy the priests. There are many good 
 priests in Rome, — but not all are good. Where super- 
 stition prevails, the offerings to the Church will be large. 
 Fear and hope open all purses. 
 
 It is not strange that the censorship is strict, nor that 
 it allows such publications as the account of the Madonna 
 del Parto to circulate freely. 
 
 . Rome, Hh February, 1857. 
 
 This afternoon. Dr. Manning, formerly so well known 
 in the English Church as Archdeacon Manning, delivered 
 the first of a course of three sermons, at San Carlo al 
 Corso. He is a man of tall and striking presence, with 
 an intellectual head, dark eyes, and the look of an as- 
 
240 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 cetic. His personal influence is great, and his reputation 
 at Rome very high. The church was filled with a large 
 audience. Before the service, I copied the following in- 
 scription from an altar in the right aisle : " Ogni volta che 
 in questo altare, dedicato alia B™" Vergine, sark offerto 
 il santo sacrifizio della Messa per 1' anima di qualsivoglia 
 fedele, Innocenzo XI. P. M. ha conceduto che venga essa 
 liberata daUe pene del Purgatorio." " Every time that on 
 this altar, dedicated to the Most Blessed Virgin, the holy 
 sacrifice of the Mass shall be offered for the soul of any 
 faithful [Catholic], by concession of Pope Innocent XI., 
 that soul shall be freed from the pains of Purgatory." 
 This inscription was a favorable introduction to the 
 sermon, which was on the honor and worship due to the 
 Virgin as the Mother of God. Dr. Manning's simple 
 and finished manner, his careful and occasionally poetic 
 diction, his quiet fervor, and his fine voice, give him un- 
 common power as a pulpit orator. His style of thought 
 is subtle, he is an acute pleader, and he makes much use 
 of the forms of logical reasoning. "In strictest truth," 
 is a phrase which he frequently uses. There was, how- 
 ever, no attempt in his discourse to avoid those doctrines 
 of the Church which are most repugnant to reason and 
 most contrary to Christianity. He spoke of the Eucha- 
 rist as "the real, actual, living, breathing, palpable* pres- 
 ence of the Lord." He spoke of the deification of the 
 Saints. " Do not startle," said he, " at the word ; it be- 
 longs to them by participation in the nature of Jesus 
 Christ." He argued, that, as the Virgin was the mother 
 of Christ, and Christ had called us his brethren, she was 
 
ROME. 241 
 
 oui! actual mother. He urged that she deserved repara- 
 tion for the past neglect with which she had been treated, 
 and for the scoffs of those who did not honor her. He 
 declared that the Church had not pronounced the doc- 
 trine of the Immaculate Conception to be true ; but that 
 it announced this dogma as revealed from Heaven, 
 through the Divine Spirit which dwells always infallible 
 in it. " I know," said he, " that it is often objected that 
 there is very little about all this in the Gospels. Very 
 little of this in the Gospels ? In a spark that darts from 
 a burning mass there is the whole essence of fire. If 
 there were but one word in the Gospels concerning the 
 Blessed Virgin, in that word would be concentrated the 
 whole force and spirit of the New Testament. If I 
 found only the words, ' And the mother of Jesus was 
 there,' I should find enough to learn devotion, rever- 
 ence, and worship for her. I do not forget that Origen 
 has said, ' No man can understand the spirit of the gos- 
 pel who has not, like the Apostle John, lain on the bosom 
 of his Lord, and had the mother of his Lord given to 
 him for a mother.' " The use of this passage was skilful 
 and eloquent. Througliout the sermon there were many 
 sentences of great beauty. One expression struck me 
 as remarkably fine : — " The affections have sl federal na- 
 ture ; you cannot love the Lord and not love what he 
 loves." 
 
 Rome, 10th February, 1857. 
 It is one of Montaigne's claims to affection, that he 
 loved Eome so well. He was a member of a greater 
 
 16 
 
242 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 church than the one which calls itself Catholic, — for he 
 belonged to that inclusive church of the Independents in 
 which have been numbered many Romanists, in spite of 
 councils, synods, and decrees. How delightful is what 
 he says of Rome ! " Rome, as it stands now, deserveth 
 to be loved, — being the only common and universal 
 city. . . . Both French and Spaniards, and all men else, 
 are there at home. To be a prince of that state, a man 
 needs but be of Christendom, wherever it be seated. 
 There's no place here on earth which the heavens have 
 embraced with such influence of favors and grace, and 
 with such constancy. Even her ruin is glorious with 
 renown and swollen with glory.'' And as one walks up 
 and down the Roman streets, it is pleasant and cheering 
 to remember his adoption by the city, and how he says, 
 that, " amongst the vain favors of Fortune, I have none 
 doth so much please my fond, self-pleasing conceit, as an 
 authentic bull, charter, or patent of denizenship or bur- 
 gesship of Rome, which, at my last being there, was 
 granted me by the whole Senate of that city, — garish, 
 and trimly adorned with goodly seals, and written in fair 
 gertden letters, bestowed upon me with all gracious and 
 free liberality." 
 
 It was in 1581 that he was thus made citizen of 
 Rome ; and the fact was recalled to me to-day by see- 
 ing in the "Index of Prohibited Books" the following 
 entry, which still prevents his writings from having that 
 freedom of the city which was bestowed upon their au- 
 thor : — 
 
 " De Montaigne Michel. Les Essais. Deer. 12 Junii, 1676." 
 
ROME. 243 
 
 Another instance of prohibition, curious from circum- 
 stances connected with the book itself, is that of Bacon's 
 treatise, " De Augmentis Soientiarum." This work is in 
 great part only a translation into Latin of "The Advance- 
 ment of Learning," which was published some years pre- 
 viously. But as in this latter treatise there were many 
 passages which might cause some offence to the Roman 
 Church, Lord Bacon, desirous to give to his more impor- 
 tant thoughts free circulation, carefully altered or omitted 
 in the translation all expressions which he supposed could 
 excite the active hostility of Rome. In a letter sent to 
 King James with the "De Augmenti,s," he says : "I have 
 been also mine own Index Expurgatorius, that it may be 
 read in all places. For, since my end of putting it into 
 Latin was to have it read everywhere, it had been an 
 absurd contradiction to free it in the language and pen it 
 up in the matter." Notwithstanding his precautions, 
 however, the book was deemed by the ruling powers at 
 Rome unfit for their subjects to read ; and, by decree of 
 the 3d of April, 1669, a decree still unrepealed, it was 
 put among the prohibited books. 
 
 I have been obliged to send to Florence, this winter, 
 for a copy of Martini's translation of the New Testa- 
 ment, which is in some sort an authorized Italian version. 
 There is a general prohibition in the Index "of all 
 versions of the Bible in any vulgar tongue, unless author- 
 ized by the Apostolic See, or published with Annota- 
 tions taken from the Fathers of the Holy Church, or 
 from learned and CathoUc men." Among the one hun- 
 dred and one propositions condemned as heretical in 
 
244 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 1713, by Clement XI., in the famous bull, Unigenitus, 
 were the two following : " That the reading of the Sacred 
 Scripture is for aU " ; and " That to interdict to Chris- 
 tians the reading of the Sacred Scripture, especially of 
 the Gospel, is to interdict the use of light to the sons of 
 light, and to make them suffer a kind of excommunica- 
 tion." These were heretical propositions. The Church 
 declared, and still declares, that the reading of Scripture 
 is not for all. But Martini was Archbishop of Florence, 
 and too good a churchman to do anything contrary to the 
 decrees or the interests of the Church. He accordingly 
 accompanied his version of the New Testament with an 
 elaborate commentary, to counteract the ill effect that 
 might be produced by the perusal of the simple text. 
 His work met the approbation of the Pope, Pius VI., 
 who, in 1778, granted him a brief expressive of his satis- 
 faction in the work. This brief, prefixed to the subse- 
 quent editions of the translation, gives to them the high- 
 est sanction of the Church. 
 
 But on the 17th of January, 1820, a decree was issued 
 by the Sacred Congregation of the Index, which contains 
 the following words : " Sacra Congregatio . . . habita in 
 Palatio Apostolico Quirinali damnavit et damnat, pro- 
 scripsit proscribitque, vel alias damnata atque proscripta 
 in Indicem Librorum Prohibitorum referri mandavit et 
 mandat opera quae sequuntur : Nuovo Testamento secon- 
 do la Volgata tradotto in Lingua Italiana da Monsig. An- 
 tonio Martini. Livorno, 1818. Idem, Italia, 1817." 
 
 I did not at first know how to account for this condem- 
 nation of a book which the Pope had sanctioned; but 
 
ROME. 245 
 
 having by chance found here in Rome a copy of the pro- 
 hibited edition which bears the imprint of Italia, 1817, I 
 find that it is a reprint of the text alone, — the Arch- 
 bishop's copious notes being omitted. The necessary 
 inference from this is, that the meaning which Rome 
 draws from the Gospels must be taught by commentaries, 
 and is undiscoverable by the unassisted reader of the 
 text. Nor is it surprising that the pure and simple 
 words of the New Testament should be obnoxious to the 
 Sacred Congregation, " qui damnavit et damnat, proscrip- 
 sit proscribitque Novum Testaraentum in lingua Itali- 
 ana." One of the notes of the Florentine dignitary will 
 show what was lost by the omission of his comments. 
 On the words in the nineteenth verse of the sixteenth 
 chapter of Matthew, " And I will give unto thee the 
 keys," he says, " The keys signify supreme authority 
 and power to govern. All that power is, therefore, here 
 given to Peter which is necessary for ruling the kingdom 
 of Christ, that is, the Church. One act of this supreme 
 power is explained in the words which follow, — what- 
 soever thou shalt hose, — in which words full power is 
 promised to Peter of loosing in general from sins, from 
 spiritual penalties, from vows, and from all those things 
 from which Christ himself, dwelling upon earth, could 
 have loosed men. With the power of loosing that of 
 binding is united, that is, of fastening sins, [<fi ritenere i 
 peccati,'] of punishing men even with spiritual punish- 
 ments. This fulness of power is transferred to the suc- 
 cessors of Peter, the Roman Popes, according to the doc- 
 trine of all times and of all Catholics." 
 
246 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 It is an old teaching in the Church, that the Commen- 
 tators are better than the Text. Luther says somewhere 
 in his " Table Talk," that one of the Austin friars in the 
 monastery at Erfurt, seeing that he was constantly read- 
 ing the Bible, said to him one day, — " Brother Martin, 
 what is the Bible ? Let us," said he, " read the ancient 
 teachers and fathers, for they have sucked the juice and 
 truth out of the Bible. The Bible is the cause of all 
 dissension and rebellion." 
 
 Home, March, 18B7. 
 On the slope of the Quirinal Hill, in the quiet inclos- 
 ure of the convent of St. Catharine of Siena, stands a 
 square, brick tower, seven stories high. It is a conspic- 
 uous object in any general view of Eome ; for there are 
 few other towers so tall, and there is not a single spire or 
 steeple in the city. It is the Torre delle Milizie. It was 
 begun by Pope Gregory IX., and finished near the end 
 of the thirteenth century by his vigorous and warlike 
 successor, Boniface VIII. Many such towers were built 
 for the purposes of private warfare, in those times when 
 the streets of Rome were the fighting-places of its noble 
 families ; but this is, perhaps, the only one that now re- 
 mains undiminished in height and unaltered in appear- 
 ance. It was a new building when Dante visited Rome ; 
 and it is one of the very few edifices that still preserve 
 the aspect they then presented. The older ruins have 
 been greatly changed in appearance, and most of the 
 structures of the Middle Ages have disappeared, in the 
 
ROME. 247 
 
 vicissitudes of the last few centuries. The Forum was 
 then filled with a confused mass of ruins and miserable 
 dwellings, with no street running through their intri- 
 cacies. The Capitol was surrounded with uneven battle- 
 mented walls, and bore the character and look of an 
 irregular citadel. St. Peter's was a low basilica ; the 
 Colosseum had suffered little from the attacks of Popes 
 or princes, neither the Venetian nor the Farnese palace 
 having as yet been built with stones from its walls ; and 
 centuries werp still to pass before Michel Angelo, Ber- 
 nini, and Borromini were to stamp its present character 
 upon the face of the modern city. The siege and burn- 
 ing of Eome by Robert Guiscard, in 1084, may be taken 
 as the dividing-line between the city of the Emperors 
 and the city of the Popes, between ancient and modern 
 Rome. But a wide space on either side of this line is 
 obscure. The thousand years from the fall of the Em- 
 pire to the revival of letters have left little trace of their 
 passage either in records or in monuments. A few iso- 
 lated characters and events are still held in remem- 
 brance ; but even the brilliant years of Bienzi's comet- 
 like course show only a narrow track of light, which 
 leaves the darkness on each side but more apparent. 
 
 The whole period was one of destruction rather than 
 of creation. The buildings of the past were perishing, 
 and few new ones were rising to take the place of the 
 old. The architecture of the time was almost confined 
 to towers and to churches ; but the towers have been 
 mostly thrown down, and the churches have been rebuilt, 
 modernized, or otherwise defaced, within the last three or 
 
248 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 four hundred years, so that their original construction is 
 ill scarcely a single instance to be seen complete. Rome 
 was in a state of too deep depression, its people were too 
 turbulent and unsettled, to have either the spirit or the 
 opportunity for great works. There was no established 
 and recognized authority, no regular course of justice. 
 There was not even any strong force, rarely any over- 
 whelming violence, which for a time at least could sub- 
 due opposition, and organize a steady, and consequently 
 a beneficent tyranny. The city was continually dis- 
 tracted by petty personal quarrels, and by bitter family 
 feuds. Its obscure annals are full of bloody civil victo- 
 ries and defeats, — victories which brought no gain to 
 those who won them, defeats which taught no lesson to 
 those who lost them. The breath of liberty never in- 
 spired with life the dead clay of Rome ; and though for a 
 time it might seem to kitidle some vital heat, the glow 
 soon grew cold, and speedily disappeared. The records 
 of Florence, Siena, Bologna, and Perugia are as full of 
 fighting and bloodshed as those of Rome ; but their fights 
 were not mere brawls, nor were their triumphs always 
 barren. Even the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, 
 which were like the coming of the spring after a long 
 winter, making the earth to blossom, and gladdening the 
 hearts of men, — the centuries which elsewhere in Italy, 
 and over the rest of Europe, gave birth to the noblest 
 mediaeval Art, when every great city was adorning itself 
 with the beautiful works of the new architecture, sculp- 
 ture, and painting, — even these centuries left scarce- 
 ly any token of their passage over Rome. The sun, 
 
ROME. 249 
 
 breaking through the clouds that had long hiddeii it, 
 shone everywhere but here. "While Florence was build- 
 ing her Cathedral and her Campanile, and Orvieto her 
 matchless Duomo, — while Pisa was showing her piety 
 and her wealth in her Cathedral, her Camposanto, her 
 Baptistery, and her Tower, — while Siena was beginning 
 a church greater and more magnificent in design than her 
 shifting fortune would permit her to complete, — Rome 
 was building neither cathedral nor campanile, but was 
 selling the marbles of her ancient temples and tombs to 
 the builders of other cities, or quarrying them for her 
 own mean uses.* 
 
 At the beginning of the fourteenth century, when the 
 Popes quitted Rome for Avignon, it might have seemed 
 as if her fortunes had reached a point of depression from 
 which there could be no hope of recovery. But one 
 striking feature marked this time, as it did the whole 
 period of darkness and evil fortune, — the steady and 
 persistent belief of the Romans in the predestined great- 
 ness of their city. If she had fallen, she would rise 
 again. The contrast of her low estate with her remem- 
 bered supremacy only quickened the anticipation of a 
 future greatness which would far exceed the past. The 
 
 * " De ipsius vetustatis ao propriae impietatis fragminibus vilem 
 questnm, turpi meroimonio, captare non puduit," says Petrarch, in 
 his JSpistola Hartatona to Eienzi, a letter intended to be read in the full 
 assembly of theTseople. " Indolent Naples is adorned with the mar- 
 ble columns from your temples." We have seen that much of the 
 marble used in the construction of the Duomo at Orvieto was drawn 
 from Rome. This explains its richness in Greek marble. See Papen- 
 cordt, Eienzi, ei Rome a son Epoqm, p. 46. 
 
250 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Romans looked upon Rome as the Jews regard Jeru- 
 salem, and this feeling was shared by the rest of Cliris- 
 tendom. The tradition of authority remained long after 
 the reality had departed, and the mere name of Rome 
 exercised control over the imaginations of men. She 
 was still esteemed the source of temporal as well as of 
 spiritual power upon earth. And as she sat desolate on 
 her hills, mumbling over her old spells, the nations still 
 bowed down their heads before her. 
 
 Dante and Petrarch, in their various works, afford the 
 most ample illustration of the prevalence and depth of 
 the conviction that Rome was appointed by divine or- 
 dainment to be the centre of power upon earth. It is 
 the basis of their political creed, and the ruling motive of 
 their public lives. The belief, indeed, affected for centu- 
 ries the politics of Europe ; while at Rome itself it was 
 clung to, amid all reverses, with superstitious bigotry, 
 and cherished with religious zeal. But the Romans 
 were characterized by an insolence and indolence quite 
 as enduring as their reliance on this article of faith, and, 
 leaving Heaven to accomplish in its own way the pre- 
 destined glory of the city, they quarrelled among them- 
 selves, and carelessly watched or helped the decay of 
 Rome. 
 
 Dante's feelings toward Rome were deep and ardent, 
 but they were of a double nature. On the one hand was 
 the feeling of reverence for its divinely ordered history, 
 for its past grandeur, and for the new glory which he 
 foresaw in its future ; on the other, was disgust at its 
 actual condition, and detestation of the vices of its rulers 
 
EOMK 251 
 
 and its people.* He closes a chapter of his « Convito," 
 in which he has been asserting the miraculous claims of 
 Eome to be considered a holy city, with the words, — 
 " And truly I am of firm opinion that the stones which 
 stand in its walls are worthy of reverence, and the very 
 ground on which it sits is worthy beyond that for which 
 men praise and commend it." f But in his treatise 
 " De Vulgari Eloquio," speaking of the various dialects 
 vof Italy, he declares, with vigorous emphasis, that '• the 
 common tongue of the Komans, or, more properly, their 
 wretched speech, is the basest of all the common tongues 
 of Italy ; nor is this strange, since in depravity of man- 
 ners and customs they are foulest of all." J 
 
 * bnon principio, 
 A che vil fine oonvien ohe tu caschi ! 
 Ma r alta providenza che con Scipio 
 Difese a Roma la gloria del mondo 
 Socorrk tosto si com' io concipio. 
 
 Paradiso, xxrii. 59-63. 
 
 t Ommio. Trattato iv. cap. 5. In a letter of Petrarch's to Pope 
 Urban V., urging him to restore the Papal seat from Avignon to 
 Eome, there is a passage of similar character. Consider, he says, 
 ■whether thou preferrest to pass what time is left to thee " at Rome, 
 which is the very flesh and blood of the martyrs, {quce iota caro el 
 sanguis est mariyrum,) or on this ifook and in this country of the 
 winds where thou now dwellest, — and whether thou dost not desire 
 to be buried in the Vatican, which of all places upon our earth is 
 without comparison the holiest." Up. Ser. Sera. vii. 1. — There are 
 many other expressions of like feeling to be found in his letters. " He 
 who wonders that Eome is esteemed sacred," he says, " is utterly pro- 
 fane, and ignorant of sacred things." Apobgia, etc. 
 
 J J)e Vulgari Ehquio^ u. xi. 
 
252 TEAVKL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 So also in various passages of tlie " Divina Commedia " 
 he displays a similar contrast of feeling : — 
 
 " Soleva Boma che il buon mondo feo 
 Duo soli aver, che 1' una e 1' altra strada 
 Facfeu vedere, e del mondo e di Dio." 
 
 PurgaioHo, xvi. 106-8. 
 
 "Rome, that turned the world to good. 
 Was wont to. boast two suns, whose several beams 
 Cast light on either way, — the world's and God's." 
 
 Caey. 
 
 And it was this strong sense of the glory of its former 
 greatness that deepened the poet's grief at its present 
 desolation. In the magnificent invocation to the Em- 
 peror Albert, full of earnest and impetuous feeling, he 
 bursts forth, — 
 
 " Vieni a veder la tua Eoma che piagne, 
 Vedova, sola, e dl e notte chiama, 
 Cesare mio, perohfe nou m' acoompagne?" 
 
 FurgatoriOj vi. 112-14. 
 
 " Come and behold thy Rome, who calls on thee. 
 Desolate, widowed,- day and night, with moans. 
 My Csesar, why dost thou desert toy side? " 
 
 Caky. 
 
 Thus in his prose and in his poetry may be traced' the 
 opposition in Dante's mind between the ideal and the 
 real Rome, between the Rome of history and prophecy 
 and the Rome of his own time.* She was to him the 
 most revered city of the imagination, and he regarded 
 her with a mingling of love and sad scorn, similar to that 
 
 * See, especially, Paradiso^ c. vi. 
 
ROME. 253 
 
 which, deepened in intensity by personal feeling, he be- 
 stowed on his native Florence. In early life, in the nat- 
 ural and tender exaggeration of grief at the death of 
 Beatrice, he had applied the opening verse of the Lamen- 
 tations of Jeremiah to the desolate condition of Florence ; 
 in later years, he applied it, with literal directness and 
 the sincerity of earnest exhortation, to Eome : " How 
 doth the city sit solitary that was full of people ! how is 
 she become as a widow ! " 
 
 The number and the periods of Dante's visits to Eome 
 are involved in some doubt. That he went there as one 
 of the Florentine envoys, not long before his exile, is 
 certain ; and it seems likely that the news of the revolu- 
 tion, which rendered his return to Florence impossible, 
 reached him while he was still in the Papal city. In the 
 " Divina Commedia " there are few passages which have 
 to do with the outside form and look of Rome. Two 
 striking similes, however, are drawn from Soman objects. 
 The first is in the description of the Giant Nimrod, of 
 whom the poet says, (Inferno, xxxi. 58, 59,) 
 
 " La faooia sua mi parea lunga e groasa 
 Come la pina di San Pietro in Koma." 
 
 "His countenance meseemed long and huge 
 As the pine-cone of Peter's Church at Eome." 
 
 This pine-cone, of bronze, was set originally upon the 
 summit of the Mausoleum of Hadrian. After this im- 
 perial sepulchre had undergone many evil fates, and as 
 its ornaments were stripped one by one from it, the cone 
 was in the sixth century taken down, and carried off to 
 
2a-l TUAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 adorn a fountain, which had been constructed for the use 
 of dusty and thirsty pilgrims, in a pillared inclosure, 
 called the Paradiso, in front of the old basilica of St. 
 Peter. Here it remained for centuries ; and when the 
 old church gave way to the new, it was put where it 
 now stands, useless and out of place, in the trim and 
 formal gardens of the Papal palace.* 
 
 But in the eighteenth canto of the " Inferno," where 
 Dante describes how the troops of the seducers and be- 
 trayers of women were scourged in opposite directions by 
 demons, he draws another image, of finer and more vivid 
 character, from a scene at Gome, of which he himself 
 had probably been a spectator. It was one of the most 
 striking sights that could have been witnessed at Rome 
 in that generation. 
 
 "Nel fondo erano ignudi i peccatori: 
 
 Dal mezzo iu qua oi venian verso il TOlto; 
 Di Ik cou noi, ma con pass! maggiori. 
 
 Come i Roman, per 1' esercito molto, 
 L' anno del Giubileo, su per lo ponte 
 Hanno a passar la gente modo tolto: 
 
 Che dall' un lato tutti hanno la fronte 
 Verso il castello, e vanno a Santo Pietro, 
 Dair altra sponda vanno verso il monte." 
 
 " In the abyss the sinners were naked. On this side 
 of the middle they came facing us ; on the other side 
 [they went along] with us, but with greater steps : as 
 
 * At the present day it serves the bronze-workers of Rome as a 
 model for an inkstand, such as is seen in the shop-windows every 
 winter, and is sold to travellers, few of whom know the history and 
 the poetry belonging to its original. 
 
ROME. 255 
 
 the Eomans, because of the great throng, in the year of 
 Jubilee, have taken means to pass the people over the 
 bridge, so that on the one side all have their faces towards 
 the Castle, and go to St. Peter, on the other side they go 
 towards the Mount." 
 
 The year of Jubilee, 1300, was the year to the Easter 
 of which Dante assigns the date of his journey through 
 the spiritual realms. The Koman Church had lost one 
 of its chief sources of wealth, and of power to excite en- 
 thusiasm, by the loss of Palestine. The Crusades were 
 ended, and plenary indulgences could no longer be offered 
 to those who engaged in them. But the memory of them 
 still' dwelt in the minds of men. The seething energies 
 of the time longed for some new outlet, and its wild and 
 irregular impulses were cramped in the narrow spaces 
 of European life. Men were impatient for some easy 
 means of acquiring the assurance of salvation, and 
 mourned that they could no longer fight their way into 
 Paradise. Everywhere the passionate elements of so- 
 ciety prevailed. Boniface VIII. was too able a man to 
 allow such emotions to exist without turning them to the 
 profit of the Church of which he was the head. The 
 beginning of the new century brought many pilgrims to 
 the Papal city, and the Pope, seeing to what account 
 the treasury of indulgences, possessed by the Church 
 might now be turned, hit upon the plan of promising 
 plenary indulgence to all who, during the year, should 
 visit with fit dispositions the holy places of Home. He 
 accordingly, in the most solemn manner, proclaimed a 
 year of Jubilee, to date from the Christmas of 1299, and 
 
256 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 appointed a similar celebration for each hundredth year 
 thereafter. The report of the marvellous promise spread 
 rapidly through Europe ; and as the year advanced, pil- 
 grims poured into Italy from remote as well as from neigh- 
 boring lands. The roads leading to Rome were dusty with 
 bands of travellers pressing forward to gain the unwonted 
 indulgence. The Crusades had made travel familiar to 
 men, and a journey to Rome seemed easy to those who 
 had dreamed of the Farther East, of Constantinople, and 
 Jerusalem. Giovanni ViUani, who was among the pil- 
 grims from Florence, declares that there were never less 
 than two hundred thousand strangers at Rome during the 
 year ; * and Guglielmo Ventura, the chronicler of Asti, 
 reports the total number of pilgrims at not less than two 
 millions. The picture which he draws of Rome during 
 the Jubilee is a curious one. " Mirandum est quod pas- 
 sim ibant viri et mulieres, qui anno illo Romse fuerunt 
 quo ego ibi fui et per dies xv. steti. De pane, vino, 
 carnibus, piscibus, et avena, bonum mercatura ibi erat; 
 foenum carissimum ibi fuit ; hospitia carissima ; taliter 
 quod lectus mens et equi mei super foeno et avena con- 
 stabat mihi tornesium unum grossura. Exiens de Roma 
 in Vigilia Nativitatis Christi, vidi turbam magnam, quam 
 dinumerare nemo poterat ; et fama erat inter Romanos, 
 quod ibi fuerant plusquam vigenti centum millia virorum 
 et mulierum. Pluries ego vidi ibi tam viros quam mu- 
 lieres conculcatos sub pedibus aliorum ; et etiam egomet 
 in eodem periculo plures vices evasi. Papa innumera- 
 bilem pecuniam ab eisdem recepit, quia die ac nocte duo 
 
 * Istorie FwreTitinej viii. 36. 
 
ROME. 257 
 
 clerici stabant ad altare Sancti Pauli tenentes in eorum 
 manibus rastellos, rastellantes pecuniam infinitam." * To 
 accommodate the throng of pilgrims, and to protect them 
 as far as possible from the danger which Ventura feel- 
 ingly describes, a barrier was erected along the middle 
 of the bridge under the castle of Sant' Angelo, so that 
 those going to St. Peter's and those coming from the 
 church, passing on opposite sides, might not interfere 
 with each other. It seems not unlikely that Dante him- 
 self was one of the crowd who thus crossed the old 
 bridge, over whose arches, during this year, a flood of 
 men was flowing almost as constantly as the river's flood 
 ran through below. 
 
 There is one other reference to this year of Jubilee in 
 the " Divina Commedia." It is in the exquisitely beauti- 
 ful passage, full of the tenderest feeling, descriptive of the 
 meeting of the poet with his friend, the singer Casella, 
 on the shore of Purgatory, t " For three months," says 
 Casella, " for three months has the angel who brings the 
 souls in his boat across the sea brought readily whoever 
 wished to embark." These three months were those 
 which at Easter had elapsed since the Jubilee began. 
 The angel, who at other times might keep some souls 
 waiting for their passage to Purgatory from the mouth 
 of the Tiber, where, according to Dante's symbolical 
 geography, all the spirits destined for Purgatory assem- 
 bled, had, during this time, suffered all to enter his boat 
 without delay, — so far did the authority of the Church 
 
 * Tosti, Storia di Bonifassia VIII. ii. 284. 
 t Purgatorio, ii. 98, 99. 
 17 
 
258 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 extend, and such was the harmony between its earthly 
 and its spiritual ministers in this season of rejoining. 
 
 The castle of Sant' Angelo, beneath whose walls the 
 crowded bridge crossed the river, had undergone strange 
 varieties of fortune since the time when Hadrian built it 
 for his tomb and that of his successors. Alaric, in search 
 of hidden treasure, had burst through its bronze doors 
 into the dark chambers in which the ashes of Antoninus 
 Pius and Marcus Aurelius, whose names alone should 
 have preserved it from profanation, were reposing. The- 
 odoric the Groth had changed the despoiled tomb into a 
 fortress. The soldiers of Belisarius had torn down the 
 marble statues that still adorned its terraced walls, to 
 hurl them on the heads of their besiegers. Successive 
 Popes stripped it of its finest marbles, and carried away 
 pilasters and columns with which to construct and orna- 
 ment their new churches, — and for years it was now a 
 fort and now a quarry, according to the needs of its pos- 
 sessors. The name which the castle now bears had its 
 origin in an event, half historic and half legendary, which 
 occurred in the year 590. Rome had been distressed by 
 a terrible inundation of the Tiber, and this disaster had 
 been followed by a dreadful pestilence, to which the 
 Pope himself had fallen a victim. St. Gregory was sum- 
 moned by clergy and by people to fill the vacant pontif- 
 ical chair. Before accepting the charge, he called an 
 assembly of the Romans, and, rebuking them for their 
 sins, upon which the pestilence was a divine judgment, 
 urged them to acts of penitence and humiliation. A day 
 was set for a solemn procession through the cily to the 
 
ROME. 259 
 
 church of St. Peter, in the hope of propitiating Heaven. 
 Seven processions of penitents, uttering prayers and sup- 
 plications, met from various points on the way to the 
 church. The regular clergy came from the church of 
 St. John the Baptist, the monks from that of the martyrs 
 John and Paul, the virgins from that of the Saints Cos- 
 mos and Damianus, the poor and the children from that 
 of St. Cascilia, the widows from St. Vitalis, the men from 
 St. Marcellus, the married women from St. Stephen's. 
 Many persons fell dead as they marched through the 
 streets. Gregory himself walked at the head of the 
 united bands, bearing in his hands a miracle-working 
 picture of a black Madonna and Child, said to have been 
 painted by St. Luke.* As the procession was crossing 
 the bridge, the Pope raised his eyes and beheld on the 
 summit of the Mausoleum an angel sheathing his sword. 
 It was the angel of the pestilence, and, according to the 
 legend, from that hour the sickness ceased through the 
 city. The picture which the Pope was carrying still ex- 
 ists, and is venerated in the rich and tasteless chapel of 
 the Borghese family, in the basilica of Santa Maria Mag- 
 giore. And still on the 25th of April in each year a 
 procession takes place to St. Peter's, in commemoration 
 of this miracle.t 
 
 * The industry of the Saint in producing copies of this portrait of 
 the Virgin seems to have been more remarlcable than his artistic skill. 
 " Seven such pictures," says the good Benedictine Montfaucon, " exist, 
 if I am not mistalsen, in different churches of the city, — all brought 
 from Greece." And there is scarcely a large town in Italy that does 
 not possess one, at least, of these black Byzantine Madonnas. 
 
 t Gregory of Touts, x. 1; Nibby, Boma Antica, ii. 499; Mima Mo- 
 denia, i. 401. 
 
IP 
 
 260 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Not long after the marvellous vision, a little church 
 was built on the high top of the castle where the Pope 
 had. beheld the angel. Being dedicated to the Arch- 
 angel Michael, it was called by the fanciful name of Sant' 
 Angela inter Nvhes, the Church of the Holy Angel in the 
 Clouds, and by degrees its name was in part transferred 
 to the great foundation upon which it stood. 
 
 But the church did not interfere with the use of the 
 building as a fortress and a prison. Here, in the ninth 
 century, the notorious and beautiful Marozia, whose 
 lover, whose son, and whose grandson were Popes, held 
 her seat, and tempted successive husbands with the lure 
 of her charms, and of the hope of supremacy over 
 Rome. Here Pope John X. was stifled to death, and 
 John XIV. was starved, — "famis crudelitate necatus 
 est." Here Crescentius, whose character it is difficult to 
 read through the darkness of the times, was besieged and 
 betrayed, — and dying, left his name to his stronghold, 
 known as the Tower of Crescentius. Here, in the 
 twelfth century, the brave reformer, Arnaldo da Brescia, 
 was imprisoned, and from his dungeon was led out early 
 in the morning, before the city which had so often an- 
 swered to his earnest and eloquent appeals was astir, 
 to be burnt on the Piazza del Popolo. During succes- 
 sive troubled centuries, the castle was held sometimes by 
 the enemies and sometimes by the friends of the people 
 and the Popes, sometimes by the Popes themselves. 
 Not long after the great Jubilee, it fell into the hands of 
 the Orsini, who occupied it for many years, during the 
 contentions between them and the other quurrelsome and 
 
ROME. 261 
 
 noble houses of Eome. In those days of brutal violence, 
 the thick-walled tombs of the old Romans were often 
 turned into dens by their savage successors. 
 
 But let us return to the illustrations which Dante's 
 poem affords of the condition of Rome. The ninth canto 
 of the " Paradiso " closes with a denunciation of the 
 greed and avarice of the Pope and the Cardinals. Their 
 thoughts are fixed upon their privileges and their gains, 
 " and no longer go to Nazareth, where Gabriel unfolded 
 his wings. But the Vatican, and the other chosen parts 
 of Rome which were the burial-places of the soldiery 
 that followed Peter, shall soon be free from this adultery." 
 
 " Ma Vaticano, e 1' altre parti elette 
 Di Roma che son state cimitero 
 Alia milizia ohe Pietro seguette, 
 Tosto libere fien dell' adultero." 
 
 On the Vatican, where the followers of Peter had 
 been murdered in the circus of Nero, — " ferarum tergis 
 contecti laniatu canum interirent, aut crucibus adfixi, aut 
 flammandi, atque ubi defecisset dies, in usum nocturni 
 luminis urerentur," — stood the church erected in honor, 
 and believed to possess the relics, of the chief of the 
 Apostles, but now profaned and violated by him who pro- 
 fessed to be the successor of Peter. All around, within 
 the city, and in the fields without its walls, were the 
 chosen places where lay the soldiery that followed Peter, 
 — the places where St. John and St. Paul had suffered 
 martyrdom, and where they were buried, — the cata- 
 combs and churches full of the relics and the traditions of 
 
262 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 the faithful and persecuted disciples at Rome, now turned 
 by licentious or infidel churchmen to the uses of worldly 
 profit, or given over to desolation and decay. St. Peter 
 in Paradise is filled with holy wrath at him who, claiming 
 to be his successor, had thus forgotten the example and 
 dishonored the memory of the founders of the church. 
 " He who on earth usurps my place, my place, my place, 
 which is empty before the Son of God, he has made of 
 my tomb a sewer of blood and of filth." 
 
 " QuegU ch' usurpa in terra il luogo mio, 
 II luogo mio, il luogo mio, ohe vaoa 
 Nella presenza del Figliuol di Dio, 
 Fatto ha del oimiterio mio cloaca 
 Del sangue e della puzza." 
 
 Paradiso, xxviii. 22-26. 
 
 If the " Divina Commedia " could be expurgated, this 
 passage would not appear in the Roman editions of the 
 poem. But Dante is the unsilenced justiciary of Popes, 
 princes, and people. 
 
 Nor is it only in Paradise that the evil deeds of Boni- 
 face are denounced. They are remembered against him 
 in Hell. In the circle of the Simonists a place is re- 
 served for him. In the very depths of Hell, where lying 
 counsellers are punished, Guido da Montefeltro curses 
 him from within the fire, and tells Dante the story of 
 the evil counsel which Boniface had solicited, profited 
 by, 'and undertaken to absolve. A line in his story 
 recalls us to Rome, — where " the Prince of the new 
 Pharisees, having a war near the Lateran, and not 
 with Saracens or Jews, for every enemy of his was 
 
EOME. 263 
 
 Christian," followed the advice of deceit, and gained 
 a triumph by "promising much and fulfilling little." 
 
 " Lo Principe de' nuovi Farisei, 
 
 Avendo guerra presso a Laterano, 
 E non con Saracin nfe con Guidei, 
 Ch^ ciascun suo nemico era Cristiano." 
 
 " Lunga promessa con 1' attender corto 
 Ti fark trionfar nell' alto seggio." 
 
 This " war near the Lateran " was a war with the 
 great family of Colonna. Two of the- house were Cardi- 
 nals. They had been deceived in the election,* and 
 were rebellious under the rule of Boniface. The Cardi- 
 nals of the great Ghibelline house took no pains to con- 
 ceal their ill-will toward the Guelf Pope. Boniface, in- 
 deed, accused them of plotting with his enemies for his 
 overthrow. The Colonnas, finding Rome unsafe, had 
 withdrawn to their strong town of Palestrina, whence 
 they could issue forth at will for plunder, and where 
 they could give shelter to those who shared in their 
 hostility toward the Pope. On the other hand, Boniface, 
 not trusting himself in Rome, withdrew to the secure 
 height of Orvieto, and thence, on the 14th of December, 
 1297, issued a terrible bull for a crusade against them, 
 granting plenary indulgence to all, (such was the Chris- 
 tian temper of the times, and so literally were the violent 
 
 * Dante refers to the deceit practised by Boniface : — 
 
 *' Se' tu si tosto di quell' aver sazio, 
 
 Per lo qual non tetnesti torre a inganno 
 
 La bella Donna, e di poi fame strazio ? -' 
 
 • la/erno. xijc. fiS. 
 
264 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 seizing upon the kingdom of Heaven,) granting plenary 
 indulgence to all who would take up arras against these 
 rebellious sons of the Church and march against their 
 chief stronghold, their " ako seggio " of Palestrina. They 
 and their adherents had already been excommunicated 
 and put under the ban of the Church ; they had been 
 stripped of all dignities and privileges ; their property 
 had been confiscated ; and they were now by this bull 
 placed in the position of enemies, not of the Pope alone, 
 but of the Church Universal. Troops gathered against 
 them from all quarters of Papal Italy.* Their lands 
 were ravaged, and they themselves shut up within their 
 stronghold ; but for a long time they held out in their 
 ancient high-walled mountain-town. It was to gain Pal- 
 estrina that Boniface " had war near the Lateran.'' The 
 great church and palace of the Lateran, standing on the 
 summit of the Coelian Hill, close to the city wall, over- 
 looks the Campagna, which, in broken levels of brown 
 and green and purple fields, reaches to the base of the 
 encircling mountains. Twenty miles away, crowning the 
 top and clinging to the side of one of the last heights of 
 the Sabine range, are the gray walls and roofs of Pales- 
 
 * The Cardinal Matteo d' Aoquasparta went, as Legate of the 
 Pope, through Italy, scattering the Papal indulgences, and stimulat- 
 ing the people to take up the cross and fight against the Colonnas. 
 His laxity as General of the Franciscan Order is refen-ed to by Dante, 
 Paradiao, xii. 124^6 : — 
 
 " Ma non fia da Casal, nk d' Acquaaparta." 
 
 His tomb is to be seen in the church of S. Maria di Aracoeli, at 
 Borne. 
 
KOME. 265 
 
 trina. It was a far more conspicuous place at the close 
 of the thirteenth century than it is now; for the great 
 columns of the famous temple of Fortune still rose above 
 the town, and the ancient citadel kept watch over it from 
 its high rock. At length, in September, 1298, the Colon- 
 nas, reduced to the hardest extremities, became ready for 
 peace. Boniface promised largely. The two Cardinals 
 presented themselves before him at Rieti, in coarse brown 
 dresses, and with ropes around their necks, in token of 
 their repentance and submission. The Pope gave them 
 not only pardon and absolution, but hope of being re- 
 stored to their titles and possessions. This was the 
 " lunga promessa con V atUnder corio " ; for, while the 
 Colonnas were retained near him, and these deceptive 
 hopes held out to them, Boniface sent the Bishop of Or- 
 vieto to take possession of Palestrina, and to destroy it 
 utterly, leaving only the church to stand as a monument 
 above its ruins. The work was done thoroughly ; — a 
 plough was drawn across the site of the unhappy town 
 and salt scattered in the furrow, that the land might 
 thenceforth be desolate. The inhabitants were removed 
 from the mountain to the plain, and there forced to build 
 new homes for themselves, which, in their turn, two years 
 afterwards, were thrown down and burned by order of 
 the implacable Pope. This last piece of malignity was 
 accomplished in 1300, the year of the Jubilee, the year 
 in which Dante was in Rome, and in which he saw 
 Guy of Montefeltro, the counsellor of Boniface in deceit, 
 burning in Hell. 
 
 The Pope himself died in 1303, and the Colonnas, 
 
266 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 freed from his vindictive hostility,* pressed a claim for 
 reparation for the losses they had suffered, before the 
 conclave of Cardinals. Their petition has been pre- 
 served, and is an interesting document, as proving the 
 completeness of the destruction of Palestrina, and ex- 
 hibiting some of the curious fancies of the age. After 
 suing for the restoration to them of their titles as Car- 
 dinals, they claim compensation for the ruin of their city, 
 " quce totaliter supposita fuit exterminio et ruince" with 
 its very noble and ancient palaces, " and with its great 
 and solemn temple, which was dedicated to the honor of 
 the Blessed Virgin, and built by Julius Caesar the Em- 
 peror, with wide and ample steps of noblest marble, by 
 which one might go up to the palace and temple even 
 on horseback, and which steps were more than a hun- 
 dred in number." f AH these, they declare, including the 
 palace built by Caesar in the form of a C, on account of 
 its being the first letter of his name, were destroyed by 
 the tyranny of Boniface, with incalculable loss, — for great 
 sums of money would not rebuild them, and no reckon- 
 
 * The Colonnas, after the destruction of Palestrina, had fled in 
 various directions. Those who might receive or afford them aid 
 had been deprived, by a special bull, of all the privileges of the Jubi- 
 lee. The words afford a striking instance of Christian temper: "Et 
 
 qui receptabunt Columnenses eosdera et qui dabunt scieutes 
 
 Bupradiotis, eorum alicui vel aliquibus, auxilium, consilium, vel 
 
 favorem, indulgentiarum hujusmodi cum non sint capaoes, 
 
 nolumus esse participes, ipsosque penitus excludimus ab eisdem," 
 (Tosti. ii. 283.) This was the Papal translation of "If thine enemy 
 thirst, give him drink." What are the present pretensions of the 
 Church in regard to her Popes? 
 
 1 Petrini, Mcmorie PrenesUne. p. 429. 
 
ROME. 267 
 
 ing of money could restore their nobleness and an- 
 tiquity. 
 
 These words in regard to the preciousness of the 
 old buildings, from the associations which belonged to 
 them, may be accepted as not a mere piece of rhetoric 
 on the part of the Colonnas, to enhance their loss, but 
 as an expression of genuine feehng. During a long 
 period, fatal to many ancient buildings and to many 
 monuments of past times, the Colonnas were honorably 
 distinguished by their care and reverence for what was 
 left of the works of the elder Romans, — and in the next 
 generation Petrarch speaks of it as one of the glories of 
 his friends, the Colonnas of that time, that they held their 
 country's ruins dear. 
 
 From such a Rome as this, a Rome of wrong, violence, 
 and bitterness, it is no wonder that Dante turned in dis- 
 gust. From the real Rome he turned to the Rome of 
 his imagination. The vision of that Rome which should 
 bring the world into peaceful subjection, fulfilling the 
 decrees of Heaven, and uniting divine with human 
 authority, was a vision which consoled his exile and his 
 solitary age, and was illuminated by his poetry and his 
 patriotism. But there was for him also a heavenly 
 Rome, — and to this heavenly Rome his life was but 
 a long pilgrimage. The first, gracious words that 
 Beatrice addresses to him, at their meeting near the 
 entrance of Paradise, are, " Thou shalt be with me 
 forever a citizen of that Rome of which Christ is a 
 Roman," — 
 
 " Di quello Roma onde Cristo k Romano." 
 
268 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 BoME, March, 1867. 
 " From my infancy I burned with desire of seeing 
 Rome," says Petrarch; but he was already past tliii-ty 
 years old, before this desire was fulfilled. In 1335, he 
 set out from Avignon to go to Eome, not merely for the 
 sake of seeing the city, but also to see again some of 
 the members of the great Colonna family, whom he had 
 known at the French Papal Court, and especially the 
 now old, but still vigorous Stephen Colonna, the father 
 of the chief friends of the poet. Just before his depar- 
 ture, he writes to James Colonna, Bishop of Lombez, 
 then at Eome, telling him of his proposed journey, and 
 saying, — '' It passes belief how. much I desire to see that 
 city, though she be deserted, and the mere image of 
 ancient Rome ; and that I have never seen it I blame 
 ray sloth, — if it be sloth, and not necessity. Seneca, 
 writing to Lucilius from the villa of Scipio Africanus, 
 seems to me to exult ; nor does he esteem it a little thing 
 to have seen the place where that great man passed hk 
 exile, and where he left the bones that he refused to his 
 country. If a Spaniard was thus moved, what do you 
 think that I, a man of Italy, feel, not in regard to the 
 villa of Liternum or the burial-place of Scipio, but in 
 regard to the city of Rome, where Scipio was born and 
 brought up, and where, victor or accused, he triumphed 
 with equal glory ; where not only he, but innumerable 
 men of whom Fame will never be silent, have lived ; — 
 about that city, I say, one like to which there never 
 was and never will be, and which even by its enemy 
 was called the City of Kings ? Or suppose that I were 
 
EOME. 269 
 
 in no wise touched by these things, how sweet is it to 
 a Christian soul to behold the city like to heaven on 
 earth, full of the sacred bodies and bones of the Martyrs, 
 and sprinkled with the precious blood of the witnesses 
 to the truth ! to see the image of the Saviour vener- 
 ated by the people, and his footprints in tlie hardest 
 rock, to be adored forever by the nations ! to walk 
 round the tombs of the Saints ; to wander through the 
 halls of the Apostles ; with better cares now for com- 
 panions, — the restless solicitudes of the present life 
 being left behind on the shore of Marseilles ! " * 
 
 This passage is characteristic of Petrarch. It exhib- 
 its his somewhat stiff and rhetorical style, his love for 
 the past, and his reverence for the great men of an- 
 cient Rome. He had studied with enthusiasm all that 
 could be found written concerning them ; and by his 
 almost unaided efforts he excited a wide interest among 
 his contemporaries in the learning of earlier times. He 
 had taken Scipio Africanus as the hero of his Latin epic 
 of "Africa," the poem which won the admiration of his 
 own age, and upon which he fancied his fame would rest. 
 With a scholarship really profound and liberal for the 
 period, he united a belief in Christianity as sincere, if 
 not as fervent, as his regard for heathenism, and Rome 
 was dear to him from its Christian associations no less 
 than from its pagan glories. 
 
 In a letter to the Cardinal John Colonna at the Court 
 of Avignon, Petrarch describes his approach to Rome. 
 The letter is written from Capranica, between twenty 
 * De Beb. Fain. Epist. ii. 9. 
 
270 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 and thirty miles from Rome, the seat of Orso, Count 
 of Anguillara, the brother-in-law of the Cardinal. Here 
 he had been detained for sixteen days, owing to the dan- 
 gers of the road to Rome. The enemies of the Colon- 
 nas were besieging all the approaches to their house, 
 and Petrarch's letter gives a lively picture of the peril- 
 ous condition of the Campagna. After speaking of the 
 fertility and salubrity of the country,* he says, " Peace 
 alone is wanting to it, — peace, exiled by I know not 
 what crime of the people, what decree of Heaven, what 
 fate, or what force of the stars. The shepherd armed 
 keeps watch in the woods, not fearing wolves so much 
 as plunderers ; the ploughman wears a cuirass, and uses 
 a lance as a goad for his oxen ; the fowler covers his 
 nets with a shield; the fisherman hangs his bait from 
 a sword ; and you may laugh, but even one going to 
 draw water from a well ties a rusty helmet to the 
 dirty rope. Nothing is safe, peaceable, or humane, 
 among the inhabitants of these regions ; but here are 
 war and hatred, and everything like the works of dev- 
 ils." t The Count of Anguillara was, however, a man 
 with whom Peti-arch, if we may trust the description 
 that he gives of him, might have been well contented 
 to pass a fortnight ; ' — "a lover of peace, but without 
 fear of war, second to no one in hospitality, rigidly kind 
 to his own people, well acquainted with the Muses, and " 
 
 * " Aer hie, quantum breve iempus ostencUt, saluierriTrms." This 
 district is now wasted by malaria. The retribution has followed the 
 wrong-doing. 
 
 t -De Sei. Fam. Epist. ii. 12. 
 
EOME. 271 
 
 (this last point may have touched the young poet) " a 
 most elegant admirer and praiser of excellent geniuses." 
 His wife, Agnes, the daughter of Stephen Colonna, was 
 a woman worthy, it seems, of such a husband. "It is 
 better to be silent about her than to say too little," says 
 their guest; "for she is of those who are best praised 
 by wonder and silence." 
 
 Less than two years before the date of this visit, one 
 of the Colonnas had laid an ambush for his enemies, 
 the then Count of Anguillara and Bertoldo of the Or- 
 sini, as they were coming into Rome to treat for peace, 
 after long contention, with Stephen Colonna and others 
 of his family. Their attendants were few ; both the 
 Count and Bertoldo were slain ; and thia was the begin- 
 ning of much evil; — for before that time, in all their 
 wars, the Orsini and the Colonnas had never slain nor 
 wounded each other.* The memory of this treachery 
 was still fresh in the minds not only of those who had 
 suffered from it, but of those who feared revenge for it. 
 Petrarch, finding how dangerous the attempt to reach 
 the Colonnas in Rome would be, sent a letter announc- 
 ing his arrival at Capranica, to his friend James Colonna, 
 asking him how he should get into the city. The Bishop 
 speedily returned him an answer, congratulating him on 
 his coming to Italy, and bidding him wait still a short 
 time longer. After a day or two, — it was now the end 
 of January, — the Bishop appeared at Capranica, accom- 
 panied by his brother Stephen. Each of them was 
 attended by about a hundred armed horsemen, a very 
 * Giovanni Villani, Istorie Florentine, x. 220. 
 
272 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 small number, it was thought, — for their enemies were 
 known to have more than five hundred horse under their 
 banners ; but with this escort, and in coutpany with these 
 friends, Petrarch safely entered the city he had so long 
 desired to behold.* 
 
 His next letter to the Cardinal is a very natural one. 
 " You thought that I should write something great 
 when I had come to Rome," he says ; " and perhaps 
 by-and-by I may ; but I can write nothing now. One 
 thing only I wiU say, — for it has fallen out contrary 
 to what you supposed. You used to advise me not to 
 come, chiefly on this pretext, — lest the aspect of the 
 ruinous city not answering to its fame, or to my precon- 
 ceived opinion got from books, my ardor would grow 
 slack. And I, too, though burning with desire, not un- 
 willingly put oflf coming, fearing lest my eyes, and the 
 actual presence, which is hostile to great names, should 
 reduce the idea I had formed for myself. But this pres- 
 ence, strange to say, diminishes nothing, but increases 
 everything; and Rome, in truth, was greater, and her 
 remains are greater, than I had thought." f 
 
 This is all that Petrarch tells of his first impres- 
 sions of the city, and he has left no further letters con- 
 cerning his first stay there. Nearly seven years passed 
 before he visited it a second time. He was now at 
 (he height of his reputation. On the 23d of August, 
 1340, by a curious coincidence, two invitations reached 
 him at Vaucluse, one .from the University of Paris, the 
 
 * Be Reb. Fam. Spist. ii. 12, 13. 
 t U. ii. 14. 
 
ROME. 273 
 
 other from the Senate of Rome, to proceed to the respec- 
 tive cities to receive the laurel crown as poet. He had 
 for a long time been desirous of this honor, and both he 
 and his friends had used many efforts to obtain it. His 
 fondness for the customs of antiquity, and the affectation 
 and false taste which marked his character, had led him 
 to set a factitious value on the ceremony, and to dwell 
 with pleasure on the thought of reviving splendidly in 
 himself this long extinct usage. With a blindness not 
 uncommon to Italians in his and in our days, he did not 
 see, that, though the old form of the ceremony might be 
 revived, the old spirit which had given worth to it could 
 not be called back, and that the leaves of the laurel 
 wreath would now be but dry leaves at the best.* 
 
 * The fancies of other poets beside Petrarch liad turned back with 
 desire to the old poetic coronation. Now and then, during the century, 
 one of the smaller cities of Italy had bestowed the laurel upon some 
 now long-forgotten rhymer. In the first of the curious Latin eclogues 
 addressed to Dante by Giovanni del Virgiho of Bologna, with the 
 object of persuading him to write his poems in Latin and not in the 
 vulgar tongue, he suggests to him that by so doing he would deserve 
 the laurel crown, which Giovanni promises to obtain for him at Bo- 
 logna. Dante, in the eclogue written in reply to that of the presump- 
 tuous Virgilio, answers, that the glory and almost the name of poet 
 have vanished; and that, if he be crowned, it must be in his own city 
 on the Arno, where he may cover with the leafy wreath the gray 
 hairs once golden. 
 
 " Nonne triumphales melius pexare capillos, 
 Et patrio redeam si quando, abscondere canoa 
 Fronde sub inserta soUtum flavescere Samo ? " 
 
 And again, as all the readers of his Paradiso remember, near the 
 close of the poem, to which both heaven and earth had set their 
 hands, he says, " If ever this sacred poem may conquer that cruelty 
 18 
 
27t TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Consulting his own inclination, and following the ad- 
 vice of his friends, Petrarch determined to accept the 
 Roman invitation, — and in February, 1341, set out anew 
 toward Rome, going first, however, to Naples, where he 
 desired to submit himself to an examination before King 
 Robert the Good, who was distinguished by his love 
 and patronage of letters, and whose testimony to his 
 fitness to receive the laurel the poet wished to obtain. 
 After an examination that lasted for three days, — " tri- 
 duo excussa ignorantia mea" — Petrarch was adjudged 
 worthy of the laurel, which the King urged him to accept 
 from his hands at Naples ; but love of Rome prevailed, 
 and, without exciting the royal displeasure, Petrarch re- 
 fused the proffered honor. King Robert dismissed him 
 with letters and messages to the Roman Senate filled 
 with the warmest commendation. " The royal judgment," 
 wrote Petrarch, many years afterwards, " was then espe- 
 cially in accordance with my own ; but now I do not 
 approve it ; — love was stronger in it than zeal for the 
 truth." 
 
 Since the period of Petrarch's former visit, the quar- 
 rels between the Colonnas and the Orsini had been stifled 
 for the time by the intervention and exertions of a Papal 
 legate. The poor Romans had made desperate and pa- 
 thetic efforts to secure peace. " In the year 1338," says 
 Giovanni Villani,* " the Romans, as if by divine inspira- 
 
 which bars me out from the beautiful sheepfold, I will come back to 
 it a poet, and will take the garland upon the font of my baptism." 
 Paradiso, xxv. 1-10. See also i. 25-33. 
 * Istofie Fiorentine, xi. 95. 
 
ROME. 275 
 
 tion, turned themselves to a general peace, both the nobles 
 and the people laying aside for the love of God every 
 offence one against the other, which was a marvellous 
 thing." He then goes on to relate how the Eomans sent 
 ambassadors to Florence to ask for the ordinances of 
 justice, which were made against the great and the pow- 
 erful, in defence of the poor and less powerful, and for 
 " the other good ordinances that we have, all of which 
 were sent to Rome. And it is to be noted how con- 
 ditions change ; for in ancient times the Romans estab- 
 lished the city of Florence and gave it laws, and now in 
 our times they send for laws to the Florentines." The 
 Romans were indeed reduced to sad straits, that they 
 should be forced to send for laws to the city which had 
 not lost her old character of making 
 
 " taato sottili 
 Provvedimeuti ohe a mezzo novembre 
 Nod giunge quel ohe tu d' ottobre fili." 
 
 During this period of comparative quiet in Rome, the 
 two Senators were Orso, the Count of Anguillara, the 
 former host of Petrarch, and Giordano Orsini. The 
 latter, however, was absent from the city at the time of 
 Petrarch's arrival, and the duty of crowning the poet 
 devolved upon the Count. Easter Day, the 8th of April, 
 was appointed for the ceremony. It was a holiday 
 for all Rome, — but it was a special festival for the 
 Colonnas; for it was the coronation not only of their 
 friend, but of the poet who had celebrated the glo- 
 ries of their family. Petrarch has left a poetical de- 
 scription of the day. "The Capitol," he says, "was 
 
276 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 filled with a joyful murmui', and you would have 
 thought that the very walls and the old roof joined in 
 the rejoicing." Twelve youths, chosen from the hest 
 families of Rome, dressed in scarlet rohes, opened the 
 procession, reciting passages from the poems of Petrarch 
 that had reference to Rome. They were followed by the 
 poet himself, attended by six nobles in green dresses and 
 with garlands of flowers on their heads. Then came the 
 Senator. When they reached the Capitol, and the trum- 
 pets of the heralds were silent, and the people were still, 
 the poet, looking down upon the throng and over the 
 ruins of old Rome, recited a sonnet in praise of the city, 
 and then, crying aloud, " Long live the people, long live 
 the Senators of Rome ! May God preserve their hber- 
 ty ! " — he knelt before the Count of Anguillara, who, 
 with the words, " I crown virtue before all," placed a 
 laurel wreath upon his head, amidst the acclamations of 
 the people. Then Stephen Colonna, " than whom in our 
 time Rome has not borne a greater man," pronounced 
 a speech in honor of the poet, and the Senator presented 
 Petrarch with a formal diploma, drawn out in a pedan- 
 tic and elaborate style, setting forth the motives that had 
 led to the bestowal of this honor, lamenting the decline 
 of poetic glory, which had gone so far " that even what 
 is meant by the name of poet is almost unknown to 
 men, many believing the office of the poet nothing else 
 than to make false inventions and tell lies,'' — and finally 
 giving authority to him in the arts of poetry and history, 
 " in this most holy city, which is the chief of all cities 
 and lands, or elsewhere, to read, discuss, and interpret 
 
EOME. 277 
 
 the writings of the ancients, and to compose new books 
 of his own, to last, with the aid of God, through all 
 ages." The ceremony being thus concluded, the proces- 
 sion was formed anew, and went through the city to St. 
 Peter's, where Petrarch hung up his laurel wreath as a 
 votive offering. Then returning to the residence of the 
 Colonnas, a banquet was served, at which the Bishop 
 of Lombez recited a sonnet, in honor of the laureate.* 
 
 The next day Petrarch left Kome, on his return. 
 " Scarcely had I got outside the walls of the city,'' he 
 writes, " with those who had accompanied me, ere we 
 fell into the hands of armed robbers, from whom how we 
 were freed, and obliged to return to Kome, and what a 
 commotion there was among the people on account of it, 
 and how under the protection of an armed guard we de- 
 parted the next day, would be too long a story to tell." 
 This little sketch of what befell him is curious enough, 
 however, and indicates clearly the condition of the Cam- 
 pagna in the neighborhood of Eome.t 
 
 Rome was now dearer than ever to Petrarch. In the 
 autumn of the next year he was again there, on his way 
 to Naples, and we find him writing as usual to his friend 
 the Cardinal. " Although late at night when I arrived, 
 yet, before resting, I went to see your magnanimous 
 father. Good God ! what majesty in the man ! what a 
 
 * This sonnet affords an eai-ly instance of the excessive hyperbole 
 of modem Italian eulogy. It is not strange that the people of Italy 
 gained the idea that " the office of the poet was to lie." Giacomo 
 Colonna's sonnet begins, " Se hparti del corpo mio distnitte." 
 
 t See EjAst. de sumenda Laurea ; Primlegium Laurecs ; Epist. Poet. 
 ii. 1. Epist. ad Post. 
 
278 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 forehead ! what a countenance ! what a voice ! what a 
 manner ! what vigor of mind at his age ! what strength 
 of body ! He was altogether the same in appearance as 
 when, seven years ago, I left him at Kome, or twelve 
 years ago, when I saw him for the first time at Avignon. 
 It is wonderful, and almost incredible, that this one man, 
 while Rome grows old, does not grow old. I found 
 him already half-undressed, and just going to his bed- 
 chamber ; so that, after he had made a few affectionate 
 inquiries about you, we put off the rest till the next day. 
 That day I passed with him, and not a single hour was 
 spent in silence." 
 
 Stephen Colonna, the elder, was the most remarkable 
 Roman of his time. His long life had been full of vari- 
 ety of fortune, and the few years that remained to him 
 were to be more changeful than any that had preceded. 
 Born not long after the middle of the thirteenth centurj', 
 he had early entered into public life. In 1289 he was 
 made governor of Bologna by Nicholas IV., and in 1292 
 was Senator of Rome. At the accession of Boniface 
 VIII., in 1294, he was involved, with the other mem- 
 bers of his house, in the persecution with which the Pope 
 relentlessly pursued them. After Boniface had treacher- 
 ously gained possession of Palestrina, Stephen, no longer 
 secure vrithin his reach, secretly fled away from Tivoli, 
 where a dwelling had been assigned to him. He is 
 heard of now in Sicily, now in England, now in France 
 at the Court of Philippe le Bel, the redoubtable adver- 
 sary of Boniface, — but followed always by the implaca- 
 ble hatred and the hostile wiles of the Pope. Sometimes 
 
ROME. 279 
 
 forced to conceal himself, sometimes reduced to extremi- 
 ties of want, he never lost heart, or let his intrepid spirit 
 sink. One day, at Aries, he fell by chance into the 
 hands of his pursuers. '' Who are you ? " they asked 
 him, not recognizing the man. He, scorning falsehood, 
 replied, " Stephen Colonna, citizen of Rome " ; and his 
 enemies, overcome hy his magnanimity and courage, did 
 not offer to' detain him. On another day, in a hard bat- 
 tle, when the fight was doubtful, and a great crowd of 
 enemies was pressing round him, a stranger, who, attracfr 
 ed by his fame, had come to fight at his side, said to him, 
 " Stephen, where now is your fortress ? " " Here,'' an- 
 swered he, smiling, and laying his hand on his heart. 
 Many times, in foreign lands, he took part in the bat- 
 tles of his friends, unknown to either side tiU the battle 
 was over. Victory seemed always to attend him, — for 
 Nature had given him a strength of body that corre- 
 sponded to his strength of soul. Often his death was 
 reported at Home, and then all hope for the fortunes 
 of the Colonnas fell, for they rested on him alone.* At 
 length, after many years of exile and wandering, Boni- 
 face being dead, he returned to his native city. From 
 that time forward, for almost half a century, he held 
 the place of the first citizen of Rome. He supported 
 the cause of the Emperor Henry YII., the " cdto Ar- 
 rigo," and was his chief protector at the time of his 
 coronation in 1312, when Rome was divided into two 
 
 * " Gloriosa Colonna, in cui s' appoggia 
 
 Nostra speranj^ e '1 gran nome Latino," 
 says Petraroi, in his tenth Sonnet. 
 
280 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 camps, of the Emperor's enemies and friends. Some 
 years later, during a time of famine and distress, when 
 the people rose against the existing Senator, he was 
 made Senator hy acclamation, with Poncello Orsini as 
 his colleague. And then he and Orsini, bringing out the 
 grain from their own storehouses into the public square, 
 and compelling the other nobles to do the same, distrib- 
 uted it to the exacting and violent people. 
 
 A family of seven sons and six daughters added to 
 the strength of Colonna. All the sons were men of 
 more than common fortune. The eldest, named after his 
 father, Stephen, was distinguished as a man of arms ; * 
 John, the second son, was a Cardinal ; and the four next 
 brothers were also dignitaries in the Church ; while 
 Henry, the youngest, was a soldier. 
 
 In his old age Stefano Colonna retained the vigor of 
 his youth. On one occasion, when he was nearly eighty 
 years old, he, with other spectators, among whom was 
 Petrarch, was looking on at the games and trials of 
 strength on horseback of his sons and other young men, 
 — and there was a certain " infamous " lance that no 
 one of them could bend, much less break. The old man 
 laughingly rebuked their want of vigor, when his son 
 Stephen said to him, " It is very easy, father, sitting still 
 
 * Petrarch addressed a sonnet to the younger Stephen, on occasion 
 of one of his victories over the Orsini. (Sonnet 82.) The poet associ- 
 ates his friendship for the Colonnas with his love for Laura. " A 
 green laurel, a noble column, have I borne in my breast, — the one for 
 fifteen, the other for eighteen years, — and never have 1 parted from 
 them." He calls his love for his mistress and his friends his double 
 treasure. (Sonnets 227 and 229.) 
 
EOME. 281 
 
 at a window, to judge those who are working, and to run 
 down the present with praise of the past." The ardent 
 old soldier got up, went down to the play-ground, calling 
 out, " Do you believe that I am not a man ? " mounted 
 the first horse he found, put spurs to him, and, having 
 seized the lance, broke it to splinters.* Petrarch dwells 
 often on his kindness, declaring that the old man treat- 
 ed him as though he had been his own son. Once, in 
 Eome, when there had been a quarrel between him and 
 one of his sons, the poet relates, that, as he was walking 
 in the afternoon with the old Colonna, he succeeded in 
 reconciling him to his son, but that, as they were talking 
 over the fortunes of the family, and had stopped, " lean- 
 ing against that beautiful ancient marble tomb which is 
 on the corner of the street," the old man, weeping, said, 
 " I had hoped to leave some inheritance to my sons, but 
 I shall be the heir of them all." t The prophetic inti- 
 mation was fulfilled : one after another, all his sons died ; 
 the glory of the house was crushed in Kienzi's short, un- 
 fruitful despotism ; and when the news of the death of his 
 eldest son and of his grandson, fighting against Rienzi, 
 was brought to the old man, he fixed his eyes a little 
 while upon the ground, and then said, without a tear, 
 " The will of God be done ! It is truly better to die than 
 to bear the yoke of a rustic." J The lonely. surviv\)r of 
 his children and his children's children died, at length, 
 not long before the middle of the fourteenth century. 
 
 * £^st. Rerum Senil. xii. 1. t Be Reb. Fam. Episl. viii. 1. 
 t Rerum Senll. x. 4. 
 
282 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Ilis grand figure looms up in noble and stately propor- 
 tions in thp dusk of that dim age. In the "Triumph of 
 Fame" Petrarch introduces two characters of his own 
 time ; — one was " the good Sicilian King," Robert of 
 Naples ; the other was Stefano Colonna, — 
 
 " il mio gran Colonnese, 
 Magnanimo, gentil, costante, e largo. " 
 
 The friendship for the poet extended to all the mem- 
 bers of the great family. " Whoever springs from that 
 stock will be my master, and will also be my son," said 
 Petrarch. He recalls with constant pleasure his inter- 
 course with them. He lingers on the memory of it, and 
 repeats his expressions of affection. Even the cold 
 rhetoric of his Latin style does not conceal the warmth 
 of his grateful feeling. " As often as I go to Rome, I 
 am received more like an angel than a man," One day, 
 a strife having arisen in the household of John Colon- 
 na, and his people having come to blows, he became 
 very angry, and called before him all who were in the 
 house, that he might examine into the origin of the 
 quarrel. Each man was sworn in turn to tell what he 
 knew of it ; the oath was administered even to his broth- 
 er, the Bishop of Luni ; but when Petrarch came to take 
 the o&th, and had already put out his hand, the Cardinal 
 drew back the volume of the Gospels, saying, " Your 
 simple word is enough." * In a letter to the Cardinal, 
 the poet brings to mind the long walks and conversations 
 he had had with him in Rome, and his recollections have 
 
 * De Reb. Fam. Epiit. v. 2. 
 
ROME. 283 
 
 a pleasing kindliness of tone. " We often used," he 
 says, " when we were tired with walking through the 
 immense citj', to stop at the Baths of Diocletian, and 
 sometimes to mount up to the roof of that once most mag- 
 nificent building. The healthful air, the open prospect, 
 the silence, and the votive solitude, drove away all 
 thought of affairs and care. There was no talk of family 
 concerns, none of the republic, which to have wept for 
 once is enough, the fragments of whose ruins were before 
 our eyes as we sat there. Much of our talk was of his- 
 tory, in which it seemed that I was more skilled in the 
 ancient and you in the modern times ; much, also, of that 
 part of philosophy which instructs in morals ; and some- 
 times of the arts, their inventors, and their principles." 
 The view which these friends saw, as they sat together 
 on the grass that covers the ruinous vaults of Diocletian's 
 Baths, was not greatly different then from what it is to- 
 day. The yellow wall-flower lit up with its gold the 
 brown fissures of the old walls, and the cypresses threw 
 down their slow and melancholy shadows over the sunlit 
 ruin. Far off, the snow touched the gray summits of the 
 Sabine mountains ; Tivoli sparkled on its olive-covered 
 hill ; while on the other side, the gi-eat temple of the 
 Alban Jove, yet undestroyed, looked down from its top- 
 most crest of rock. Towers, which are now ruins, the 
 sheltering-places of sheep and shepherds, were then seen 
 scattered over the Campagna, little destructive strong- 
 holds, the seats of robbers who watched travellers going 
 in and out of the city, regarding them as the flocks that 
 they were to fleece. But in our days, with one part of 
 
284 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Diocletian's Baths turned into a church as bare as it is 
 inappropriate, with another portion given up to convent 
 buildings and cloisters, and with the remainder occupied 
 as a magazine of forage for the French troops, there is 
 little remaining venerableness about the mighty ruin. 
 Michel Angelo's genius was ill employed in turning the 
 halls of a luxurious bath-house into the aisles and tran- 
 septs of a Carthusian church ; and the French, who, in 
 the course of this century, have done so much to pre- 
 serve the ancient buildings of Rome, might well have 
 found some fitter place for storing their straw and grain. 
 
 In Petrarch's time, however, the Romans were even 
 more indifferent to their city than they now are, and 
 more wantonly destructive of its old remains, much as is 
 done in the way of destruction (by restorations, so called) 
 at the present day. " Who," asks Petrarch, " are more 
 ignorant of Roman things than the Roman citizens ? I 
 say it unwillingly, but nowhere is Rome less known than 
 in Rome itself, — in which I mourn not only for the igno- 
 rance, but for what is worse than ignorance, the flight 
 and exile of many of the virtues. For who can doubt 
 that Rome would instantly rise again, if she but began 
 to know herself? " * 
 
 Petrarch's interest seems to have been divided in very 
 equal measure between the remains of the heathen city 
 and those of the early Church and the first Christians. 
 In naming over the places in the city he had seen, he 
 begins with a list of those which had interested him from 
 their associations with classical times, and ends with a list 
 
 * De Jttb. Fam. Episl. vi. 2. See also Poet. Epist. ii. 5, 13. 
 
ROME. 285 
 
 of those which were sacred to him as the scenes of famous 
 events in the history of the Church. Here was the Cave 
 of Cacus ; here the way infamous as that along which the 
 wretched Tullia drove ; here was the bridge from which 
 the brave Horatius leaped into the river ; here was the 
 Tarpeian Rock ; here the Curtian Gulf; here C^sar tri- 
 umphed, and here he died; here were the Portico of 
 Pompey, the Column of Trajan, the Temple of Peace, the 
 Tomb- of Hadrian ; and here were the horses of Phidias 
 and Praxiteles, the marble bearing witness for so many 
 centuries to the genius of the artists. But here, too, was 
 the place where Christ met his flying vicar ; here Peter 
 was slain on the cross, and here Paul was beheaded ; 
 here Lawrence spoke, and made a place at his side in 
 the tomb for Stephen ; here John despised the boil- 
 ing oil ; and here Agnes, living after death, forbade her 
 friends to weep. — These were the localities which he 
 had sought out and visited in Rome. They are mostly 
 familiar to the modern traveller, but at that time there 
 was rarely a pilgrim to the holy city who cared for any 
 but its Christian associations. Petrarch was one of the 
 first to arouse the modern interest in classic characters 
 and events, — and the study of the antiquities of Rome 
 as a science may date from the time of his visit. Since 
 the period of Julius IT. and Leo X., of Michel Angelo 
 and of Raffaelle, the classical antiquities have been inves- 
 tigated, indeed, with far more zeal than the Christian, and 
 almost to the exclusion of the latter. Men have been 
 more interested in the stories of the founders of Rome 
 than in the stories of the founders of our faith. But the 
 
286 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 fables taught as doctrines or received as facts by the Ro- 
 man Church held a large place in Petrarch's imagina- 
 tion. His critical skill had never been directed to the 
 examination of their evidences. He recalls, for in- 
 stance, the old and fanciful fiction, that the body of St. 
 Lawrence in his tomb moved and made room for the 
 bones of St. Stephen, when they were brought from 
 Palestine, to be laid at his side. In a poetical epistle 
 addressed to Pope Clement VI., urging him to restore 
 the Papal seat to Rome, he presses upon the Pope the 
 sacred claims of the city, from its holy relics and its 
 holy places ; — relics, among which were the footprints 
 of Christ left in the hard rock ; the face of the Saviour 
 impressed on a woman's kerchief; the cradle in which 
 the Author of all things lay asleep, Mary gently hushing 
 him ; — 
 
 " Lao quoque vel puero optatum, vel Virginia almEB 
 Lseve puerperium ; puraque ex carne reoisam 
 Particulam infanti; preciosaque fragmina vestis, 
 Kt custoditos in secula nostra capillos." * 
 
 * Epist. Poet. ii. 6. The superstitions of the fourteenth century are 
 the superstitions of the nineteenth. Anyone who has spent Passion 
 Week at Eome will remember that one of the chief ceremonies of the 
 time is the exhibition of the relics at St. Peter's. It is repeated three 
 times during the week. One of those relics is the kerchief of St. 
 Veronica, on which the likeness of the Saviour is supposed to have 
 been miraculously impressed. The reverential kneeling of the crowd, 
 their silence, and the stillness through the usually noisy church, ren- 
 der this exhibition one of the most striking scenes of this week of 
 stage eflFects. In a little book entitled / Sette Viaggi di nostra Si- 
 gnore, of which the twelfth edition appeared in Florence in 1861, the 
 populai' story of this mai-vellous likeness is told. St. Veronica was 
 a noble woman of Jerusalem, whom our Lord healed of a flowing of 
 
ROME. 287 
 
 It was not only through her relics that Petrarch sought 
 to awaken the feeling of the Pope toward Eome ; he ap- 
 
 blood. She became the friend of the Virgin. On his way to Calvary, 
 ■the Saviour sunk, under the weight of the cross before her house. 
 She, compassionating him, took a veil of linen from her head and gave 
 it to him to wipe the sweat and dust from his face. His likeness was 
 in this act miraculously impressed upon it. " It is the established 
 opinion that St. Veronica handed this kerchief to the Saviour folded in 
 three folds, and that his likeness was impressed on each, — for there 
 are three originals venerated in our time in three places : the first in 
 St. Peter's at Rome, called the Santo Sudario ; the second in Andalusia : 
 the third in Jerusalem, " It appears that St. Veronica took the Santo 
 Sudario to Eome by order of Tiberius, to cure him of the leprosy, — 
 and that she died at Rome, and was buried in St. Peter's. I have a 
 copy of the Santo Sudario stamped upon silk, and, accompanying it, a 
 formal attest, under the seal of the authorities of the Church, that it 
 has been compared with and applied to the original. In regard to an- 
 other of the relics referred to by Petrarch, the particula recisa, there 
 was a treatise published in Rome, with the approbation of the Holy 
 Office, in 1802, of which I have a copy, entitled Narrazione Oritico- 
 Storica delta Reliquia Premosissima del Santissimo Pr^umo di N. S. 
 Gesii Oi^sto, che d mnera nella Chiesa Parrocchiale di Calcaia, Diocesi di 
 Cimia Castellana. The whole story, and the philosophical discus- 
 sions connected with it in regard to the resurrection of the body in its 
 completeness, are of a very remarkable character, and one of the most 
 curious examples which even the literature of the Roman Church af- 
 fords of the abuse of sacred thoughts and names, and the debasing of 
 a spiritual religion to a materialism as gross as that of pagan times. 
 In Petrarch's day, this relic was venerated at St. John Lateran. It 
 was stolen in the Bourbon's sack of Rome, lost for a term of years, 
 and then miraculously rediscovered near Caloata, a little town 
 twenty-seven miles from Rome, where it has ever since been the object 
 of special veneration and the agent of numerous miracles. The can- 
 ons of the Lateran long ago tried to recover it; but its will, as shown 
 by miracle, was to remain at Calcata. Five Popes have issued briefs 
 relating to it, and a list is given of thirty authors who have treated 
 of it, from St. Thomas Aquinas downwards. 
 
288 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 pealed to his sympathies for her neglected and ruinous 
 churches, churches that had once been the glories of tiie 
 sacred city. " As many as my churches were, so many 
 are now my wounds.'' " Look at the temples of God, 
 built with great labor, how they tremble, falling to ruin ; 
 the high altars, heaped with no treasure, and seldom 
 smoking with incense, are silent ; see how rarely a guest 
 enters the inner places, and in what mean raiment the 
 priest tends the shrine." * 
 
 The great church of St. John Lateran, "the mother 
 and head of all the churches of the city and the world," 
 — " mater urUs et orhis,'' — had been almost destroyed 
 by fire, with its adjoining palace, and the houses of the 
 canons, on the Eve of St. John, in 1308. The palace 
 and the canons' houses were rebuilt not long after ; but at 
 the time of Petrarch's latest visit to Eome, and for years 
 afterward, the church was without a roof, and its walls 
 were ruinous. The poet addressed three at least of the 
 Popes at Avignon with urgent appeals that this disgrace 
 should no longer be permitted, — but the Popes gave no 
 heed to his words ; for the ruin of Roman churches, or of 
 Eome itself, was a matter of little concern to these trans- 
 alpine prelates.f 
 
 For years, indeed, the burden of Petrarch's public cor- 
 respondence is mourning for the deserted city, longing 
 for its restoration, for the return of the Head of the Uni- 
 versal Church to the proper seat of universal dominion, 
 
 * I^ist Poet. ii. 5, and i. 2. 
 
 t See, beside the poetical letters already cited, to Clement VI. and 
 Benedict XII., the prose letter to Urban V. JSpist. Her. Sen. vii. 1. 
 
ROME. 289 
 
 and aspiration for an independent Italy, of which Rome 
 should be the central glory and power. 
 
 He lived long enough to see the Popes return to 
 Rome, to behold the tide of pilgrims once more turn 
 toward the no longer solitary city, the stream of tribute 
 once more flow into Italian channels. But he lived long 
 enough to see also that the return of the Popes had 
 brought back little vitality .to the shrunken veins and 
 disordered faculties of Rome. The vile impieties and 
 impurities, the violence, the cheatings, the perjuries, 
 which he had so often rebuked and denounced at the 
 Court of Avignon, continued undiminished at the Court 
 of Rome. Something more than the Papal presence was 
 needed to purify and restore the city, and more than Pa- 
 pal power was required to make Italy independent. Pe- 
 trarch died in 1374, and Rome, five centuries after he 
 last saw her, scarcely fulfils the prophetic visions of his 
 imagination. 
 
 Rome, 6th March, 1857. 
 When Augustus was at the height of' his power, he 
 consti-ucted a mausoleum for the burial-place of himself 
 and of his family. Upon a broad base of marble, inclos- 
 ing vaulted tombs, was raised a mound of earth covered 
 to its summit with everjgreens. On the top was a statue 
 of the Emperor. Five years after it was built, its doors 
 were for the first time opened to receive the ashes of the 
 young Marcellus. 
 
 " Quantos ille virftm magnam Mavortis ad urbem 
 Campus aget gemitus ! vel quae, Tiberine, videbis 
 19 
 
290 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Funero, quum tumulum praeteriabere recentem! 
 
 Manibus date lilia plenis." 
 
 Hei-e, too, was Agrippa buried ; and hither, at length, 
 the body of Augustus was borne on the shoulders of 
 Senators, and, having been burned, its ashes were placed 
 within the tomb. There was a man of prjetorian rank, 
 says Suetonius, who swore that he beheld the figure of 
 Augustus rising from the flames and ascending to heaven. 
 
 For a considerable time the Mausoleum continued to 
 be the burial-place of the imperial family. After long 
 exile, the ashes of the great Agrippina, granddaughter 
 and mother of an Emperor, were placed here by her 
 wretched son. Some time in the fourteenth century, the 
 cippus of marble which had held her cinerary urn was 
 discovered, and it is now to be seen standing in the court- 
 yard of the palace of the Conservatori on the Capitol. 
 It bears an inscription striking from its condensed sim- 
 plicity : — 
 
 OSS A 
 
 AGRIPPIN-B • M • AGRIPPJB ■ E 
 
 DIVI ■ AUG • NEPTIS • nXOKIS 
 
 GERMANIC! • C2ESARI8 
 
 MATRIS • C • C^SAKIS • AUG 
 
 GERMANIOI • PRINCIPIS 
 
 After Hadrian built his more splendid mausoleum, the 
 earlier one was no longer used. When the Goths, under 
 Alaric, sacked the city, they did not spare the habitations 
 of the dead, but scattered their ashes and rifled them of 
 whatever precious objects they might contain. " He that 
 lay in a golden urn," says Sir Thomas Browne, " was not 
 
KOME. 291 
 
 like to find the quiet of his bones.'' During the gloomy 
 centuries of the fall of Rome, the Mausoleum became 
 ruinous, and at length was seized upon by the Colonnas, 
 and held by them as a fortress during long years of 
 intestine violence and civil broils. At one time the en- 
 raged Eomans got possession of it and attempted to de- 
 stroy it utterly; but the solid masonry of the base 
 resisted their attempts, and, being retaken by the Colon- 
 nas, afforded them for a period longer a secure strong- 
 hold, from which they might issue forth at wiU on their 
 freebooting excursions. 
 
 The old walls still stand, but so surrounded by close- 
 packed houses, that but little of the ancient structure is 
 to be seen. The central area, in which were the tombs 
 of the Caasars, is now hollowed out into an open amphi- 
 theatre, round which are ranges of seats to accommodate 
 the common people of Home, drawn thither in summer- 
 time by the attractions of circus-riders or of Policinello. 
 The dirty stairway which leads to the upper benches 
 is lined with various marble slabs, bearing modern in- 
 scriptions. They are alike in character, — and one of 
 them runs as follows : — 
 
 CESSA 
 
 LA LOQUACB TKOMEA BELLA PAMA 
 
 .OVE NON GltTNGE IL NOME 
 
 DI 
 
 GIOVANNI 6UILLAUME 
 
 SUPEKEO EKENATOKE DI BESTEIEKI 
 
 CUI STKAOKDINAEIAMENTE 
 
 PLAUDIVA LA CITTA DEL TEBEO 
 
 NELL AUTUNNI MDCCCLI 
 
 E MDCCCLII. 
 
292 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 Such is the contrast between ancient and modern 
 Rome ! " Here's fine revolution, if we had the trick to 
 see't." " Why may not Imagination trace the noble dust 
 of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole ? " 
 
 Rome, lath March, 1867. 
 
 During the few months in 1848-9 in which Eome 
 called herself a Republic, an illustrated paper was issued 
 daily, except on feast-days, entitled "II Don Pirlone, 
 Giornale di Caricature Politiche." It was of the most 
 liberal stamp, and turned its ridicule against the Pope 
 and the papalini of every class. It came to an end 
 when the French occupied Rome, and since that time 
 it has become exceedingly scarce, as no citizen of Eome 
 could with safety to himself keep open possession of 
 caricatures so pointed and satire so merciless as its 
 pages exhibit. It has, however, not merely a political, 
 but also an artistic interest ; and its illustrations, beside 
 throwing light upon the popular feeling and spirit, show 
 as well the instant effect of freedom in giving life and 
 vigor to the expressions of Art. 
 
 The utter sterility and impotence of mind which have 
 long been and are still conspicuous at Rome, the deadness 
 of the Roman imagination, the absence of all intellectual 
 energy in literature and in Art, are the necessary result 
 of the political and moral servitude under which the 
 Romans exist. Where the exercise of the privileges 
 of thought is dangerous, the power of expi'ession soon 
 ceases. For a time, — as during the seventeenth cen- 
 
ROME. 293 
 
 turj in Italy, — the external semblance of originality 
 may remain, and mechanical facility of execution may 
 conceal the absence of real life ; but by degrees the very 
 semblance disappears, and facility of execution degener- 
 ates into a mere trick of the hand. The Eoman art- 
 ists of the present time have not, in general, the capaci- 
 ty even of good copyists. They can mix colors and can 
 polish marble, but they are neither painters nor sculp- 
 tors. 
 
 Living surrounded by the noblest works of classic 
 Art, constantly frequenting a school in which Eaffaelle 
 and Michel Angelo are the teachers, they have not 
 the power even to imitate correctly the great works of 
 the past, much less to create anything of their own. 
 This wretched impotence cannot be the result of national 
 or natural deficiency. The Italians are of the same race 
 as their predecessors ; the climate and soil of Italy are 
 the same now as formerly. But in the days when Italy 
 contained great men, capable of great works, the political 
 life of the people had not ceased, and the authority of 
 the Church had not penned up their minds within its 
 narrow walls of creed. Florence, which, during a period 
 of three centuries of political turbulence and activity, 
 produced a succession of the most distinguished poets, 
 historians, and artists, has not, during the last two hun- 
 dred years of political servitude, given birth to one 
 genius of the first order. A modicum of liberty is 
 essential for the development of literature and Art. 
 When pohtical and spiritual despotism combine, a vacu- 
 um is produced in which thought and imagination die 
 
294 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 out, and all the qualities of manly character dwindle and 
 decay. 
 
 But a little breath of liberty is sufficient to revive 
 them ; and these numbers of " II Don Pirlone " which 
 are lying before me are of especial interest as showing 
 how quickly imagination exhibited itself, and expression 
 became vigorous, even here, in this stagnant Rome, when 
 for a moment men felt the exhilaration of freedom. 
 There is more power in the hasty illustrations of its daily 
 issue, more truth, more genuine feeling, than in the con- 
 tents of all the modern galleries and studios of Roman 
 artists put together. 
 
 Take, for instance, the illustration in the number for 
 the 21st of May, 1849, entitled " Un Matrimonio Segre- 
 to." Within the walls of a church, above whose altar may 
 be read the legend, " Ad minorem Dei gloriam^' ave seen 
 a bride and bridegroom kneeling at a desk, before which 
 stands the Pope, pronouncing the blessing on the mar- 
 riage. The bridegroom is a figure in military uniform, 
 but his head is that of the Gallic cock, and on his crest 
 hangs the imperial crown ; the bride, with a woman's 
 fair form in flowing robes, but with the double head of 
 the Austrian eagle with rapacious beak and cruel eye, is 
 reaching out her beautiful hand to receive the wedding- 
 ring. On the desk, in place of the sacred emblems, 
 are carved a skull and cross-bones, an axe and a whip. 
 There is no classic formalism in this picture. Its mean- 
 ing and its lesson are plain. 
 
 Or look at the issue of the next day. On a wide 
 plain is spread a broad sheet, at the head of which stand 
 
ROME. 295 
 
 the words, « Trattato del '15," « Treaty of 1815," — over 
 which a comic figure of the Emperor of Austria, with a 
 headsman's axe at his side in place of a sword, and with 
 folded arms, is striding with great paces. At each edge 
 of the broadside are seen the words, " Gonfini Austriaci," 
 " Austrian boundaries," and underneath the picture is 
 read, "Facciano pure Ungheresi, Italiani, ma qui saremmo 
 sempre Noi T Imperatore" " Let the Hungarians and the 
 Italians do what they can, on this we will forever be 
 Emperor." There is no lack of fresh invention in a 
 picture like this. 
 
 On the 29th of May appeared a caricature still more 
 humorous. It is called " Effetti d' Impressione." One of 
 King Bomba's timorous soldiers, in the mask and slippers 
 of Pantaloon, is seen seated at table about to take a soli- 
 tary meal. But his attitude and face express the utmost 
 consternation ; for all around him, before his bewildered 
 eyes, appears the terrible name Garibaldi. It is on the 
 wall, on every beam of the ceiling, on the tiles of the 
 floor, on the leg of the table, on the back of the chair, 
 on an old portrait ; — it is stamped on the loaf, it is in 
 the wine, on the blade of the knife, and the wasps buzz- 
 ing round the unprotected head bear it on their wings. 
 Nothing but Garibaldi, — the name alone of the* patriotic 
 popular leader striking terror into the cowardly assailants 
 of Rome. 
 
 But on the 1st of June appeared a picture of intense 
 dramatic energy and truth. That it is a picture which 
 presents an unfair view of character and history, and con- 
 tains the essence of Mazzinian spite, detracts in no degree 
 
296 TEAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 from its force. It is called " The Wandering Jew." Fly- 
 ing to the verge of Europe, where the Atlantic washes the 
 shores of Portugal, is seen the tall figure of the unhappy 
 Carlo Alberto, driven by skeleton ghosts, over whose heads 
 shine stars with the dates 1821, 1831, 1848. In the midst 
 of the sky, before the fugitive, are the flaming words, " A 
 Carignano * Mahdizione Etema ! " " Cursed be Cari- 
 gnano forever ! " — to which a hand, issuing from the 
 clouds, points with extended forefinger. The grim and 
 threatening skeletons, the ghosts of those whom Carignano 
 had betrayed, the tormented look of the flying King, the 
 malediction in the heavens, the solitude of the earth and 
 the sea, display a concentrated power of imagination rare 
 in Art. It is a picture that avenges many wrongs, — and, 
 when read by the light of Carlo Alberto's death, and with 
 the remembrance of the misinterpretations and confusions 
 which have wrought such woe for Italy since 1849, the 
 indignation and the hate which its aim is to excite turn 
 to the deepest pathos and compassion. 
 
 But the engraving which appeared on the 13th of June 
 was the one of the whole series which excited the deepest 
 feeling at the time of its publication, and is, perhaps, un- 
 surpassed in the display of imagination and in fulness 
 of suggestion. The sale of the number containing it 
 was so large, that the first issue was speedily exhausted, 
 and a second impression scarcely satisfied the popular 
 demand. The Pope is beheld celebrating Mass. In 
 place of the attendant priest is seen Oudinot, the gen- 
 
 * Carlo Alberto bore the title of Principe di Carignano before he 
 became king. 
 
ROME. 297 
 
 eral of the French forces, kneeling on the step of 
 the altar, holding up the pontifical robe. Around are 
 standing military officers, and behind them is a file of 
 bayonets. The bell of the Mass is in the shape of an 
 imperial crown. The Pope is just raising the consecrated 
 wafer, — but the Christ of the crucifix upon the altar has 
 detached his arms from the cross and covers his face with 
 his hands, as if to shut out the sight of the impious sacri- 
 fice. Lightnings dart from the cross, and a serpent 
 raises his hissing head from the cup that should hold 
 the blood of the Lord. The candles on the altar take 
 the form of bayonets. Beneath the picture are the 
 words, " Ha incominciato il servizio colla messa ed ha 
 Jtnito coUe bombe,'' " The service began with the Mass 
 and has ended with Bombs." The minor details of the 
 design fill out its meaning, and add a cumulative force 
 to its satire.* The drawing is hasty and inaccurate, but 
 vigorous ; the draftsman has made his thought clear to 
 whoever has eyes. ^ 
 
 The French took possession of Eome on . the 2d of 
 July, 1849, and on that day " II Don Pirlone " appeared 
 for the last time. His spirit had not abated with the 
 
 * Thus, the soles of the boots of General Oudinot, seen as he kneels, 
 bear, one the words, "AHicolo V. delta CoslUuzime," — the other, "Ac- 
 comodamento-Lesseps" ; thereby representing him as trampling upon 
 the Constitution of the French Kepublio, the OmstUutim-Mmi-ast, 
 whose fifth article contained the following words: "La Bepubligue 
 frangaisen'emploie jamais ses forces conlre la liberie d'aucunpeuple," 
 — while at the same time he tramples upon the arrangement entered 
 into with the Roman Triumvirs on the 31st of May, by M. de Lesseps, 
 the French Minister, in the spirit of tlie article just cited. 
 
298 TEAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 fall of Rome. A naked female figure, with the cap of 
 liberty upon her head, is seen lying, apparently dead, 
 upon the ground. Near by stands a dunghill cock crow- 
 ing vociferously, while a man in a general's uniform is 
 engaged in throwing earth upon the corpse. The woi'ds 
 with which the design is accompanied have a sting, the 
 point of which the French may well have felt on that 
 day, and which has not lost its sharpness even yet : — 
 " Ma, caro Signor Becchino, siete poi hen sicuro che sia 
 morta ? ? " " But, dear Mr. Gravedigger, are you quite 
 sure that she is dead?" 
 
 One closes the pages of '' Don Pirlone " sadly, — for 
 they end with the end of hberty in Rome. They illus- 
 trate not merely the course of events and the popular 
 feeling of the time, but, on a small scale, they show the 
 working of eternal principles, and explain the degenera- 
 cy of modern Italy. French soldiers and Italian priests 
 have ruled Rome since the summer of 1849. The grave 
 of the Republic was the grave of much more than a form 
 of government. From such graves there is in time a 
 resurrection. 
 
 EoME, April, 1857. 
 The fourteenth century was at once the evening of the 
 Middle Ages and the dawn of the Renaissance in Italy. 
 Dante stands at its beginning, Boccaccio at its close, 
 marking the separation between the old ideas and the 
 new. Never was a book more in earnest than the " Divina 
 Commedia," — rarely one less so than the " Decameron." 
 The new era is inaugurated with a laugh, — but it is a 
 
ROME. 299 
 
 laugh at once conscious and ironical. The invisible and 
 the spiritual were losing their hold over the imaginations 
 of men, while the visible and the material were continu- 
 ally gaining a larger share in the desires and the belief 
 of the age. Faith in God and in Christ, in heaven and in 
 hell, in virtue and in retribution, faith even in the Church 
 and in the future regeneration of Italy, exists in full 
 strength at the beginning of the century ; but as the 
 century advances, faith disappears, and infidelity looks 
 out even from under the cowl of the monk. 
 
 The gloom of the Dark Ages was breaking away. 
 Those ages had been marked by the excesses of rude 
 passions, by intensity of feeling, by Sincerity of expres- 
 sion, and by capacity of hearty and permanent enthu- 
 siasm. But as they closed, passions were becoming 
 subjected to the control of manners, expression was 
 losing its force under the relaxation of refinement, en- 
 thusiasm was yielding to indiflference. The rough sin- 
 cerities, the hard fights, the hearty loves and hates, the 
 coarse life, the brilliant shows, the long romances of 
 feudalism and chivalry, were drawing to an end. Force 
 of arm and force of soul were exhausted by long effort. 
 Weakness was gaining a victory over strength.' The in- 
 dividual was becoming less absolute, less distinct, absorbed 
 more and more into the general life, — while the commu- 
 nity was increasing its resources, and developing those 
 arts and appliances of modem civilization which depend 
 on the combination of many difierent elements in one 
 compact mass. 
 
 As the fifteenth century advanced, Italy was neither 
 
300 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 quiet nor at ease ; but her disturbances were not the 
 result of the conflict of moral principles, or the clash of 
 personal passions. There was a general aimless rest- 
 lessness. A hundred years before, it had seemed as if 
 there were still a possibility of the existence of an 
 Italian nation, still a chance for community of national 
 sentiment and eifort, still a hope of union for the preser- 
 vation of Italian freedom. But the scattered fires of 
 liberty went out one by one, or were put out by those 
 who dreaded their flames. The old hopes died away. 
 Even the old hereditary party-hatreds became extinct, 
 for no men were left capable of nourishing them. Civil 
 wars, carried on by independent bands of mercenaries in 
 the interest of the prince or tyrant who could pay them 
 best, took the place of the struggles of rival states, and 
 of the battles of citizens flghting for what they them- 
 selves held dear. Indifference to the higher things of 
 life had gained possession of Italy. Even trouble and 
 misfortune failed to rouse her to energy. She had lost 
 the capacity of moral suffering,* and she sought relief 
 from harass in self-forgetfulaess among the delights of 
 sensual' enjoyment. 
 
 The Church no longer exercised its ancient authority 
 over the imaginations of men. Its thunders had become 
 empty voices. The Papacy itself was in dispute. At 
 
 * " Cette incapacity de souffrir moralement, qui deviendra de plus 
 en plus le trait de I'ltalie, et la cause permanente de son esclavage." 
 E. Quinet, Les Jievolutions d^Italie, ch. ix. 
 
 This eloquent and imaginative book contains many striking and 
 profound reflections upon Italian history and character. 
 
ROME. 301 
 
 the opening of the fifteenth century, Boniface IX. was 
 Pope in Eome, Benedict XIII. at Avignon. A few 
 years later, there were three rival Popes, each claiming 
 to be the true successor of Peter and the supreme 
 ruler of the faithful, each denouncing his opponents with 
 threatenings of divine vengeance in the bitter language 
 of human wrath. The popular reverence for the sacred 
 office, rudely shaken by such contests, was weakened 
 still further by the characters of l;he rival prelates. 
 The lives of the highest dignitaries of the Church were 
 infamous with crime. Balthasar Cossa, known as Pope 
 John XXIIL, was better known as pirate, tyrant, adul- 
 terer, and liar.* The vices and crimes of the higher 
 clergy were paralleled on a lower scale by those of the 
 inferior. " If any one is lazy, if he abhors labor, he 
 flies to the priesthood." "The priests live more after 
 the doctrine of Epicurus than of Christ." Such was the 
 contemporary testimony. But the vices of the clergy 
 excited less indignation than ridicule, and there is no 
 completer proof of the deadness of moral feeling in 
 Italy than that she made jests of the immoralities of her 
 
 * When, on the 25th of May, 1416, he was formaUy deposed by 
 the Council of Constance, one of the articles of the act of* deposition 
 charged him with being " pauperum oppressor, jnstitiae persecutor, 
 iniquitatum columna, Simoniacorum statua, carnis cultor, vitioruni 
 fex, a virtutibus peregrinus, infamise speculum, et omnium malitia- 
 rum profundus admonitor; adeo et in tantum scandalizans ecclesiam 
 Christi, quod inter Christi fideles vitam et mores cognoscentes vulga- 
 riter dicitur Diabolus incamatus." Yet in a few months Balthasar 
 was restored to the dignity of the Cardinalate. The pretensions of 
 the Church could hardly stand firm against such blows levelled at 
 them by its own high Council. 
 
302 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 priests, and turned away indifferent at the profanation 
 of her altars. 
 
 As confidence in the ministers of the Church was lost, 
 so also departed regard for what they taught. When 
 Braccio Montone, the leader of a free company of 
 troops, had reduced Martin V. to his power, he was 
 charged with having boasted that he would make the 
 Pope say six masses for a bit of silver. " Six masses," 
 replied he, " for a bit of silver ! I would not give him 
 a bit of copper for a thousand." The illusions which 
 had gathered round the Church were dispelled, — and 
 the ties which now bound the Italian people to the 
 Papacy were those of worldliness rather than of religion. 
 That ecclesiastical sway should extend from Italy over 
 the world was a matter of national ambition and pride. 
 The Italians remained attached to the Church because 
 the Pope had his seat in Rome. But the services of 
 the Church were neglected, and the examples which it 
 held up for imitation disregarded. The time was not 
 propitious for saints. So far did the indifference to mat- 
 ters of religion extend, that even heresy died away ; for 
 there was no rebellion against doctrines which were not 
 believed, but held with mere formal acquiescence. On 
 feast-days, when there were great shows, or during peri- 
 ods of calamity, the churches were frequented ; but even 
 the lingering superstitious reverence for Mass and office 
 did not succeed in filling them at common and regular 
 seasons. As the century advanced, the prevalent un- 
 belief deepened into irreverence. In 1443, that clever 
 nnd dissolute intriguer, ^neas Sylvius, who himself was 
 
ROME. 303 
 
 Pope but fifteen years afterwards, gives the character of 
 the times in a sentence in one of his letters. " We all," 
 he wrote, " have the same faith with our temporal rulers. 
 If they worshipped idols, we also should worship them. 
 If the secular power should urge it, we should deny not 
 only the Pope, but Christ himself. Charity is cold; 
 faith is dead." Faith is dead, and the future Pope sings 
 the requiem over her body. 
 
 The force of national character declined in corre- 
 sponding measure with the decay of faith. It is only 
 when men in this world are in conscious spiritual rela- 
 tion with another, that their characters acquire dignity 
 and strength, and their works possess enduring vitality. 
 The period of original creative power seemed to be at 
 an end in Italy ; for the capacity of spiritual energy and 
 of enthusiasm was almost extinct. In an age of indiffer- 
 ence and pleasure-seeking, great achievements may be 
 admired, but will not be imitated. The cathedrals of 
 Venice, of Siena, of Orvieto, the church of Assisi, the 
 chapel of the Arena at Padua, were built and adorned by 
 men whose souls were warmed into fervor by the coals 
 upon the altar of sacrifice. Cathedrals, churches, and 
 chapels such as these were henceforth to be impossible. 
 Such genius as was left — and genius lingered on in Italy 
 for nearly two centuries longer — was to occupy itself in 
 works which had their source, not in the fresh fountains 
 of the imagination, hut in currents derived through newly 
 opened channels *from the past. The fifteenth century 
 was the first of the centuries of imitation. The Renais- 
 sance, the re-birtli of the old life of the world, began. 
 
304 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 In poetry, in scholarship, in painting, sculpture, and 
 architecture, men set themselves to copy the style of 
 ancient times. The masters of the ancient world were 
 made the despots of the modern. 
 
 This spirit of dependence on the past, which had its 
 origin in deep-lying moral deficiencies, was increased and 
 fostered hy certain external and seemingly fortuitous cir- 
 cumstances. Since the middle of the twelfth century, 
 knowledge of the excellence of classic Art had been 
 slowly increasing in Italy. The sculptors of the pulpit 
 at Pisa, of the Doge's palace at Venice, of the bas-reliefs 
 of the Duomo at Orvieto, had seen and studied to good 
 purpose some remains at least of ancient work in marble. 
 The Venetian and Pisan galleys brought home, now and 
 then, rare pieces of sculpture, which quickened the per- 
 ceptions and widened the scope of native artists. Pe- 
 trarch, with the weight of his personal influence and the 
 charm of his style, had imparted his own zeal to others 
 in the study of the remains of classic literature. As the 
 fifteenth century came in, the search for the lost books of 
 the ancients was beginning to show fair results. " It was 
 a circumstance productive of the happiest consequences," 
 says the philosophic Mr. Roscoe, " that the pursuits of 
 the opulent were at this time directed rather towards the 
 recovery of the works of the ancients than to the en- 
 couragement of contemporary merit, — a fact that may 
 serve to account in some degree for the dearth of original 
 literary pi-oductions during this period." Whether this 
 was " a happy consequence " may well be questioned. 
 Many precious works, of which nothing had been known 
 
ROME. 305 
 
 for centuries, were, indeed, recovered. There were no 
 bounds to tlie extravagance of the esteem in which the 
 ancient authors were held. Little judgment was exer- 
 cised in regard to their essential merits. Their claim to 
 reverence was regarded as unquestionable. The labors 
 of commentators and translators were prized above all 
 other literary work. Those authors of the time weie 
 most admired who best succeeded in imitating the ancient 
 writers ; but the critical skill and taste of scholars were 
 imperfect and debased, so that the faults no less than the 
 excellences of the classics were praised and reproduced 
 ill modern writings. Original thought was discouraged, 
 and the knowledge of the classics served to stifle fresh 
 and independent works of mind. From about the mid- 
 dle of the fifteenth century may be dated the rise of that 
 spirit of pseudo-classicism which has blighted Italian 
 literature from that day to this. Then began the Acad- 
 emies, whose members hid their own names under high- 
 sounding Latin appellations, — asses dressing themselves 
 in lions' skins, and exhibiting their own feebleness by 
 their very disguises. Then was established that code of 
 false taste, vphose laws, gaining gradually more and more 
 authority, brought by slow degrees every department of 
 literature and Art under their despotic and degrading 
 control, and have not yet ceased to exercise a most inju- 
 rious influence upon the national mind. 
 
 The Councils of Ferrara and Florence, at which many 
 of the learned prelates of the Greek Church were pres- 
 ent, and still more the fall of Constantinople in 1453, 
 by which the scholars of the East were driven to Italy, 
 
306 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY, 
 
 promoted, in extraordinary measure, the prevalent admi- 
 ration for antiquity, not only by giving to Italian scholars 
 a knowledge of many works of the Greek authors, of 
 which they had been ignorant, but also by supplying 
 them with masters who could make that knowledge 
 available. Men of letters learned to have faith only in 
 what was dead. 
 
 Nor was this the worst result of the rehabilitation of 
 antiquity. With pagan literature came an influx of pa- 
 gan sentiment. The practical disbelief of Christianity, 
 as taught by Rome, led the way to the easy reception of 
 heathen philosophy and principles of life. It was no 
 mere scholarly impulse that led to the foundation of Pla- 
 tonic academies, to the setting of Plato side by side with 
 Christ as a teacher of the truth, to the professed admira- 
 tion of the doctrines of Epicurus. The Church had 
 nothing to ofiFer -to counterbalance the attractions of the 
 new-found doctrines. The systems of her schoolmen and 
 divines appeared narrow, dry, and hard, when brought 
 face to face with those of the great masters from which 
 they professed to be remotely derived. The philosophy 
 which she taught was of no better quality than the re- 
 ligion. She had succeeded in making both the one and 
 the other despised. Nor was this all. The immorality 
 of the period found not only a stimulus, but an excuse, 
 in the old literature now extolled as divine. The author- 
 ity of antiquity was invoked in favor of a looser code of 
 morals, and of a more accommodating philosophy, than 
 those which had Heaven and Hell for their final terms. 
 
 It is true tliat many of the fathers of the Church — 
 
ROME. 307 
 
 Basil and Chrysostom among them — were now brought, 
 for the first time, to common knowledge in the West. 
 But they could avail little against the powerful fascina- 
 tions of the heathens, their old enemies, whom they had 
 long ago left for beaten and routed. 
 
 While heathen antiquity was thus promoting the cor- 
 ruption of taste and of morals, and making the literature 
 of the day stamp itself as counterfeit, its influence ex- 
 tended by force of natural relations over the domain of 
 Art. The beauty and the artistic perfection of the works 
 of ancient Art were brought into open comparison with 
 the imperfect execution of modern productions. The 
 spell of unidealized beauty was thrown over the imag- 
 inations of painters and sculptors. In estimating the 
 influence of antiquity upon this period of Italian his- 
 tory, the charm of classic beauty must be considered as 
 one of its chief elements. It satisfied a deep-felt want ; 
 it afforded a relief from the obscurity of symbolism, and 
 from the intense moral consciousness of the works of the 
 Middle Ages. It gratified the love of external life, did 
 something to redeem sensuality from grossness, and cor- 
 responded with the general tendency to find the things 
 of this world all-sufficient for content. Venus revealed 
 herself to Italy as she had once done to Paris, and Italy 
 made the choice of the shepherd on Mount Ida, while 
 Minerva stood by and approved. 
 
 In the first half of the fifteenth century, the earth, the 
 great treasury of sculpture, began to yield up the ancient 
 statues and carved sarcophagi which it had long pro- 
 tected. Poo-'^io Bracciolini, the Florentine, who died in 
 
308 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 1459, seems, indeed, to have known not more than five 
 statues in Rome ; but there were many scattered works of 
 ancient sculpture throughout Italy ; and shortly after the 
 middle of the century the collection of such works was 
 set about in earnest. Blondo Flavio published, previous- 
 ly to 1447, the first regular treatise on the topography 
 and antiquities of Eome. Even early in the century, it 
 was the habit of the sculptors and architects of the north- 
 ern cities of Italy to study the Roman remains. Vasari 
 says of Ghiberti, that " he was the first who began to imi- 
 tate the things of the ancient Romans." The good use to 
 which his own fine genius and his patient labor enabled 
 him to turn his study of classic Art appears in the unsur- 
 passed beauties of his Gates of Paradise. But genius 
 is not given to many men in one age in such measure as 
 to enable them to overcome the unmanning effects of a 
 professed system of imitation ; and to one who looks 
 behind the marvellous excellence of the external and 
 purely artistic qualities of Ghiberti's work, there appears 
 some lack of the depth of meaning, of the simple and 
 serene piety, the pure and concentrated expression of the 
 works of the earlier masters. He had gained by his 
 study of ancient models, or by the study of living ex- 
 amples to which he was led through them, variety and 
 animation of composition, mastery of form, attitude, and 
 motion, — he had gained command over the body, but he 
 had lost something of sympathy with the soul of his work. 
 A still nobler genius than Ghiberti, his contemporary, 
 Brunelleschi, exhibits in a still more positive manner, in 
 his grandest work, the effcc^t of a return to ancient mod- 
 
ROME. . 309 
 
 els. It was about the year U03, that he, still a very 
 young man, sold a little estate which he owned near Flor- 
 ence, in order to obtain money for a visit to Rome, where 
 he desired to study the remains of the ancient buildings. 
 " And there," says Vasari, " he gave himself up to his 
 studies, taking no care about either food or sleep, devoted 
 entirely to architecture, which at that time was extinct, — 
 that is, I mean, the good ancient orders, for the German 
 and barbarous style was still much used." Vasari, how- 
 ever, is wrong in this last assertion ; for at this time "the 
 German and barbarous style," as he calls it, was as dead 
 as " the good ancient orders." Gothic architecture never 
 took strong root in Italy. It was a style that did not cor- 
 respond to the genius of the Latin race. It was always 
 an exotic, and betrayed continually its foreign origin. 
 Though it produced, in the course of the twelfth and thir- 
 teenth centuries, some of the noblest buildings that ever 
 rose upon Italian soil, it underwent modifications in their 
 construction to fit it to Italian taste, and displayed in them 
 a luxury of polished marble and a wealth of colored adorn- 
 ment such as it never elsewhere exhibited. Even these 
 buildings were due to that period when Italy, in great 
 part settled by conquerors and emigrants from the North, 
 experienced that strong thrill of energy which ran 
 through her veins as she awoke from her prolonged 
 slumber in the Dairk Ages. 
 
 It is a coincidence worth noting, that the corner-stone 
 of Santa Maria de' Fiori at Florence, in its original design 
 the grandest of all the Gothic cathedrals of Italy, was 
 laid in the boyhood of Dante, the only Italian who has 
 
310 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 shown a capacity to sympathize to the full with the 
 Gothic genius, — and that, after advancing rapidly for a 
 few years, the work upon it ceased at about the time of 
 his death. For a century, this beginning, worthy of the 
 magnificent spirit of Florence in her best days, lay in- 
 complete, a reproach to the city. At last it was deter- 
 mined to finish the building. But who now could execute 
 what Arnolfo had designed ? Architects were summoned 
 fi'om all parts of Europe. In 1420, the master-builders 
 met in Florence. Many plans were suggested for the 
 vaulting of the Cathedral. The wildest schemes were 
 brought forward and discussed ; for the enormous span of 
 the arch to be thrown over the point of junction of the 
 nave and the transept presented a difficulty which few of 
 the builders of the time knew how to overcome with the 
 legitimate resources of their art. Brunelleschi, however, 
 profiting by his study of Roman buildings, and confident 
 in his own power, undertook to construct what was 
 needed. His proposal was at first universally derided, 
 as that of a madman ; but, after long discussion, the 
 work was committed to his charge. The result was 
 the almost unsurpassed dome which crowns Florence, 
 and which even Michel Angelo could hardly do more 
 than rival. Splendid as a work of genius, wonderful 
 as at once the first and almost the finest of modem 
 domes, as the perfect renewal of a style lost for a thou- 
 sand years, — nevertheless, this dome of Brunelleschi's 
 went far to destroy the beauty, and did ruin the sym- 
 metry of the cathedral which it surmounts. It is inap- 
 pi'opriate as a completion of- the original structure. It 
 
ROME. 311 
 
 is a Roman head set upon Gothic shoulders. Arnolfo's 
 problem was not solved by the answer which Brunel- 
 leschi gave to it. The work of the later architect bore 
 the stamp of the later time. In the building, as Arnolfo 
 had left it, there was an unexampled opportunity for 
 a true Gothic dome, — grand arches leading up to a 
 grander dome within, concentric story above story with- 
 out, rising with forests of pinnacles clustered around the 
 tall central spire, to outmatch the snowy peaks of Milan, 
 to surpass the aspiring beauty of Strasburg or Cologne. 
 The sense of the preeminent value of a completion that 
 should be harmonious with the beginning of the Cathe- 
 dral seems never to have been felt by Brunelleschi. No 
 conception of the sentiment peculiar to Gothic architec- 
 ture held back his hand from his bold and great under- 
 taking. Henceforth the Gothic was banished from Italy, 
 as a " German and barbarous style." The last stone of 
 the lantern of Brunelleschi's dome was laid in 1461, fif- 
 teen years after his death, and from this may be dated 
 the rise of that imitative architecture which reached its 
 highest glory in St. Peter's, and which then rapidly ran 
 down into the deformities of the Jesuit churches of the 
 following centuries. 
 
 The same influences which affected the character of 
 sculpture and of architecture with continually growing 
 force impressed themselves upon the painting of the 
 time. It would be a false supposition, indeed, to imagine 
 that all the artists of the fifteenth century exhibited in 
 their works the prevailing characteristics of the period. 
 In the infinite diversity of the natural qualities and of 
 
31-2 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 the circumstances of men, there will always be found ex 
 ceptions to prevailing rules. In every age, there are 
 many individuals who stand in opposition to its most 
 marked direction. Moreover, a course of national de- 
 cline or progress is not established or confirmed at once 
 and at a definite epoch. It often exhibits itself at first 
 only in slight under-currents. The decay of the vital 
 forces of a people may be altogether concealed for a time 
 from the eyes of outside observers by shows of splendor, 
 by lustre of genius, brilliant, though perverted, and, in- 
 deed, by actual advance in material development, cor- 
 responding in some measure to the loss of spiritual 
 energy. Such was the case in Italy during a great 
 part of this time. The luxury of habits had vastly in- 
 creased. Living was both easier and more civilized than 
 before. But living is not life. 
 
 No works of Art were ever created with a purer 
 spirit, with a sweeter piety, than those of Pra Angelico, 
 who died in 1455. The air of heaven is fanned by 
 the bright wings of his angels ; the peace of heaven is 
 in their countenances. No spot of earth dims the shin- 
 ing colors of their robes. Such pictures as those of 
 the monk of Fiesole prove that in some retired cor- 
 ners of the earth Faith still had her abiding-place. 
 But Fra Angelico had preserved his piety only by 
 withdrawal from the world. " Although he might well 
 have remained in the world," says his biographer, 
 "yet, for his own satisfaction and quiet, being of a 
 tranquil and good disposition, and especially in order 
 to save his soul, he chose rather to make himself a 
 
ROME. 313 
 
 monk o£ the order of the Preaching Friars." The 
 convent-gate shut out from him the knowledge of man- 
 kind. His hfe was solitary and exceptional, his charac- 
 ter more refined than strong. 
 
 "While Fra Angelieo was showing in the features and 
 the gestures of his saints and angels the religious affec- 
 tions of his soul, and exhibiting the human countenance 
 in the exalted expressions of purity and devotion, Ma- 
 saccio was carrying forward painting in another direc- 
 tion, by a mastery of light and shade, and a power of 
 representing the free action of the human figure, such 
 as had never been attained by earlier artists. The 
 pictures which he painted in the Brancacci chapel at 
 Florence are, perhaps, the first in modern Art that show 
 entire freedom in execution united with variety and 
 power in design.* They were the first truly natural 
 pictures, free from the restraints of imperfect methods 
 and incomplete knowledge of drawing. They showed 
 the result of careful study of antique Art, modifying 
 and directing study from life. In them men assume their 
 real attitudes and gestures, devoid of constraint, and 
 
 * The fame of Masaccio has been raised too high, by attributing to 
 his hand the finest of the works in this chapel. The late investiga- 
 tions of Gaye, of the editors of the Le Monnier edition of Vasari, 
 and others, leave little doubt that the St. Peter in Prison vidted by 
 St. Paul, and the St. Peter and St. Paul before the Proconsul, which 
 are not surpassed in exoeUenoe by any other pictures in the chapel, 
 and which have been popularly ascribed to Masaccio, were in fact 
 painted some forty years after his death by Filippino Lippi. There 
 can be no question, however, that Masacoio's influence is visible in 
 these later works, and that he deserves all credit for opening now 
 ways of excellence in Art. 
 
814 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 equally devoid of exaggeration. The Brancacci chapel 
 was one of the chief schools of Michel Angelo and of 
 Rafiaelle. Many of the figures which he found there 
 Rafiaelle transferred, without improving them, to his 
 own pictures. 
 
 But although Masaccio thus led the way to a rapid 
 development of the powers of Art, although its materials 
 were increased almost at the same time by the discovery 
 and use of oil-colors, and although in many ways the 
 science of painting was vastly improved, yet neither 
 Masaccio nor any of his immediate followers showed a 
 corresponding development in the more intimate and 
 spiritual parts of their art. On the contrary, while the 
 manner and method of painting were improving, the 
 thought and feeling expressed by it were losing in mean- 
 ing, in depth, and in truth. Compositions were gain- 
 ing in fulness, variety, and grace, but were declining in 
 simplicity and in dignity.* It seemed as if, while the 
 
 * A striking instance of this fact is to be observed in comparing 
 the recently uncovered fresco by Giotto in the church of Santa Crooe, 
 in Florence, representing the Incredulity of Jerome, with the same 
 pubjeet as painted by Ghirlandaio in the church of Santa Trinity. 
 Giotto's picture was painted early in the fourteenth century, Ghirlan- 
 daio's toward the end of the fifteenth. The first has lately been en- 
 graved from a drawing by Mignati. The second may be found in out- 
 line in Kugler's Bandbook of Painting in Italy, where it is called " The 
 Death of St. Francis," and is very highly praised as possessing 
 " simple arrangement," " artless, unaffected dignity," " noble and 
 raanly expression." But the fact is, that the main features of the 
 composition are taken bodily from Giotto's work, with the introduo- 
 I ion of some needless figures and injurious accessories. The terms 
 which .Kugler uses in regard to Ghirlandaio's are appropriate to 
 
BOME. 315 
 
 secret of the beauty and glory of this world had been 
 found, the more precious knowledge of the divine beauty, 
 of which earth affords but the outward image, had been 
 lost. Art was no longer the handmaid of piety, no lon- 
 ger the expression of purity. It was sinking to mere 
 decorative purposes. Chapels were now, as formerly, 
 adorned with painting; but the new pictures had often 
 little that was sacred, except their subjects, and served 
 to awaken no feelings of devotion, of religious tenderness, 
 or awe. In the Campo Santo at Pisa, where, a hundred 
 years before, Orcagna had painted his solemn pictures 
 of the Four Last Things, Benozzo Gozzoli now painted 
 on the opposite walls lovely compositions taken from the 
 stories of the Old Testament, and full of the pleasant- 
 ness, the gladness, even the mirth of life. Across the 
 narrow green strip of graveyard, the two painted walls 
 looked at each other, revealing the gulf that lay between 
 the past century and the present. 
 
 As Painting decorated herself with new and unwonted 
 charms, and as she came down from the contemplation 
 of heavenly things to delight herself in the graces and 
 accomplishments of sensual life, dilettantism, which had 
 already begun to exhibit itself in literature, and which 
 takes the place of passion in an age of indifference and 
 skepticism, added another to the many existing influences 
 
 Giotto's picture. In the later work, the simplicity, the dignity, 
 the tenderness of the earlier are greatly diminished. The one is 
 instinct with deep feeling and true piety, — the other with conven- 
 tional expression and Romanized faith. The history of the decline 
 of Italian spiritual life lies between the two. 
 
816 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 which were joined to reduce the level and aim of Art. 
 Painting, sculpture, and architecture were, indeed, stim- 
 ulated to remarkable productiveness by the growth of 
 private patronage, and by the demand which was made 
 upon them to minister with their delights to the luxuri- 
 ous spirit of the times. They answered readily to the 
 call, and lavished themselves in decorative displays, in 
 the construction and adornment of the halls and cham- 
 bers of private palaces or the chapels of private devo- 
 tion. They took their part in the open and gay world, 
 and learned easily to accommodate themselves to its 
 desires. The pencil that had designed virgins and saints 
 turned now to the depicting of Venuses and Cupids. 
 The licentious figures of heathenism were reproduced 
 in modern statues, — and painting and sculpture lent 
 themselvea to be the panders of voluptuousness. 
 
 The discovery of printing, followed by the great mari- 
 time discoveries in which Italian navigators led the way, 
 roused the already active intellectual spirit of the last 
 half of the century to still more untiring and restless 
 exertions. But the art of printing, in making books 
 more generally accessible, and diffusing a knowledge of 
 letters, seems rather to have depressed than to have 
 stimulated the development of original thought. There 
 was a strange contrast, during this period, between the 
 greatness of physical achievements, the vast increase of 
 knowledge from sources external to the mind of man, 
 the extraordinary intellectual activity, and the deficiency 
 of intellectual force. Intrinsic feebleness corresponded 
 to a hitherto unexampled rapidity of material prog- 
 
KOME. 317 
 
 ress. In the midst of discoveries of startling grandeur, 
 the Italian imagination grew cold, and rarely showed 
 itself, save in the range of science and physical inves- 
 tigation. Literature lost dignity, and seemed to lose 
 even the consciousness of morality. The poetic fancy 
 appears in the rhymed satire of Pulci, in the mock pas- 
 torals of Lorenzo, in the Latin verse of Politian. The 
 so-called golden age of Italian letters, the age of Lorenzo 
 de' Medici, upon which the flattery of historians and es- 
 sayists has been lavished, till its praise has become one 
 of the rhetorical commonplaces of literature, was in truth 
 a gilded, rather than a golden age. Lorenzo is called the 
 patron of letters and of Art ; but when letters and 
 Art need a patron, it is because they have lost their 
 own natural vigor. 
 
 Only one great genius, one whose power all the world 
 recognizes and honors, belongs to the Art or literature of 
 Italy of the last half of the fifteenth century. Leonardo 
 da Vinci stands apart from his time, unapproached, alone. 
 The illegitimate son of a country notary, he waited for 
 no patron to stamp him with the mark of vulgar appro- 
 bation. While other men were growing up in the con- 
 formities of faithless pietism, he learned to know the 
 presence of God among the blue mountains that encircle 
 Florence, and in the crowded market-place of the infidel 
 city. The eternal and silent teachers of truth taught him 
 a religion which had no place in the hearts of the men 
 around him. " Such were his caprices," says Vasari, who 
 believed in Christianity after the manner of the Popes, 
 "such were his caprices, that, philosophizing about the 
 
318 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 things of Nature, he came to understand the properties of 
 plants, and was continually observing the motions of the 
 heavens, the course of the moon, and the goings of the 
 sun ; by which there arose in his mind a conceit so 
 heretical, that he united himself to no special religion, 
 thinking, perhaps, that it was better to be a philosopher 
 than a Christian."* Little did the worthy biographer 
 know of the heart of that man, who painted a head of the 
 Saviour so tender and so sorrowful, with such depths of 
 manly sympathy and strength, that in itself it gives tes- 
 timony that the love of the Lord had entered into and 
 taken possession of the heart of the painter. There is 
 no other work of the last half of the century to be put 
 by the side of Leonardo's picture of the Last Supper. 
 While this picture stands in express opposition to the 
 temper of the times, the result to which the discipline of 
 the age had brought the ablest intellects is displayed, per- 
 haps, nowhere more clearly than in the works of Machia- 
 velli. Their freedom fr6m passion and from personal 
 feeling gives to them peculiar value as illustrations of 
 prevailing principles. They are the cool deductions of 
 an able man of the world from wide and various experi- 
 ence. They do not so much exhibit the existence of vice 
 among men as the absence of virtue. They are not im- 
 moral, but simply unmoral. They are the works of a 
 modern heathen philosopher, calm in tone, clear in state- 
 ment, recognizing neither right nor wrong as abstract 
 qualities, exhibiting the modes and system of tyranny, 
 
 * This passage occurs in the first edition of Vasari's Life of Leo- 
 nardo; — it was omitted from the second. 
 
EOME. 319 
 
 without justifying, but equally without condemning them. 
 The end justifies the means, the world is to be dealt with 
 in worldly ways, and policy does not necessarily coincide 
 with justice and with truth. 
 
 "Faith is dead" at the middle of the century; — the 
 moral sense of man had died before its end. " Iniquity 
 and sin had multiplied in Italy," writes the Florentine 
 Benivieni, of the last decade of these hundred years, 
 "because the land had lost the faith of Christ. .... 
 All Italy, and especially the city of Florence, was given 
 over to skepticism. Men and women returned to heathen 
 customs, and took delight in the study of the poets, in as- 
 trology, and in all superstitions." In the year 1490, in 
 the midst of this society, in Florence itself, the enthusiast 
 Savonarola began for the second time to preach Reform. 
 The words in which Benivieni describes the rottenness of 
 Italy are not so strong as those in which the ardent Do- 
 minican depicts the crimes and vices of his hearers. J£ 
 one would learn what Italy had become, he may learn 
 it from the passionate sermons in which the undaunted 
 monk, filled with the spirit of prophecy, denounced woe 
 upon the people, unless they turned from their evil ways. 
 There was doubtless much exaggeration, much false zeal, 
 in the heated sentences of his irresistible invective ; but 
 beneath all the extravagances of his visionary and ex- 
 alted eloquence lay a broad and deep foundation of truth. 
 For a time, the fervid spirit of Savonarola lighted up the 
 flames of repentance in the hearts of the fickle Floren- 
 tines. In the Carnival season of 1492, they built a pile 
 in the public square, heaping upon it their ornaments, 
 
320 TRAVEL AND STUDY IN ITALY. 
 
 masks, gaming-tables, licentioas books, voluptuous pic- 
 tures and carvings, and consumed them all. The next 
 year the temporary passion for sacrifice had died away, 
 — another fire was lighted, and the man who had ven- 
 tured to preach repentance and reformation to people, to 
 priests, and to Pope, was burned as the reward of his 
 audacity. The smoke rising from his funeral-pile spreads 
 in a dark cloud over Italy. Alexander V.I., Borgia, Pope 
 without a rival in infamy, was at the head of the Church. 
 Paganism was enthroned at Eome, and crowned with the 
 triple crown. 
 
 The sixteenth century was to develop the chief re- 
 sults of the principles in Art, in literature, and in relig- 
 ion, which had had their birth in the fifteenth. Over 
 the gateway through which it is entered are the words. 
 Let us eat, deink, and be mebrt, for to-mok- 
 BOW WE DIE. For two hundred years Italy has lain 
 dead. 
 
 THE END. 
 
K^/Any Books iu this list will be sent free of postage, on receipt 
 of price. 
 
 BOSIOK, 135 WASHIIfOTOK SlEEIT, 
 
 Ejsb-vuaby, 1860. 
 
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