CHAPTER V
Visit to the Forum and the Colosseum: Crossing the Tiber: Castle of St. Angelo: Palace of Justice: Trajan’s Column: Garibaldi’s Monument: The Appian Way: St. Peter’s: Its magnitude and magnificence: Michael Angelo’s work.
Our first visit was to the Colosseum. Among the many sights of Rome none give us a better idea of its ancient civilisation than the Forum and the Colosseum. The heart of the great Roman Empire throbbed in the Forum. Here was, at one time, the Senate, the market, the courts, indeed, it was the very centre of the life of Rome. As we gazed upon the ruins, the vast marble columns, still standing, its broken arches, and gables in ruins, it needed no great stretch of the imagination to fancy we were back to the palmy days of Rome, and the Forum is ringing with the cheers of the vast populace who have sat under Cicero’s eloquence; or, we fancy we can hear the tramp of Roman legions as they return from some nightly conquest, passing the gates of this remarkable building. The ground it covered would be about 250,000 square feet. These, of course, embraced the market place, the rostrum, several temples, and the triumphal arch. The whole building was of marble, and with its marvellous architecture, it must, in its glory, have presented a striking appearance. The Palace of Cæsar stands just behind. We had a chance of seeing a little of the gardens, once belonging to this palace. Enough of the remains serve to show something of the wealth and luxury of those ancient Emperors. I took two snap-shots of a part of the ruins of this wonderful place. In my photograph the marble columns are seen to be standing, and they are where they have stood for the last fifteen hundred years at least. From here to the Colosseum, no less wonderful than the Forum, we then made our way. The first view of it filled us with awe. In its ruins it is awfully grand. It must surely be the most imposing ruin in Rome, and it is the most historically interesting relic of ruin in the world. Vespasian began to build it in the year 72 A.D., and the Emperor Titus completed it in the year 80 A.D. Historians tell us it was built by the forced labour of Jews and Christians. Its architect, they tell us, was one “Gaudentius,” who afterwards became a Christian, and died a martyr within the walls he himself had planned and helped to build. Originally it would hold in all 100,000 people, and 90,000 could be seated in its vast galleries and rooms. It would cover, apparently, about six acres of land. Down to the sixth century it remained in its beauty undiminished, and little decayed. Inside the vast building was a fine statue of Nero. The extreme length of the walls outside are about six hundred feet, and the width nearly five hundred feet. There was originally a portico carried round the whole building, adorned with gilded columns, while statues of the finest marble filled the arcades, and there were rich awnings of silk for a protection from the sun’s heat. It is stated the carnival lasted for several weeks, and no less than five thousand wild beasts, some from the Indian Jungles, and some from the African morasses took part. These terrible gladiator fights were the amusements for the aristocracy of Italy, and were attended by stately courtiers and the nobles of the land. We saw the bars still standing in the ruins, behind which the wild beasts lurked, waiting to be turned into the arena to fight with gladiators, i.e., men trained, who with their lives in their hands were prepared for this terrible ordeal. If they came out with the trophy they were applauded, and with honours escorted through the streets of Rome.
Sometimes, at the bidding of the wicked Emperor Nero, one hundred Christians would be brought into the arena, when a vast crowd would be present to watch four or five lions and as many tigers turned in, wild with fury, and mad with hunger, the Christian martyrs were soon delivered from their fleshly tenement and went up to their reward. It is said that St. Ignatius was brought from Antioch to be devoured by these wild beasts. Church traditions record many martyrs within these now ruins. Byron says:
“I see before me the Gladiator lie;
He leans upon his hand, his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony.
The arena swims around him, he is gone
E’er ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
He heard it, but he heeded not; his eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away.
There were his young barbarians all at play.
There was their Dacian mother—he their sire
Butchered to make a Roman holiday.”
Or Keble:
“And now the gratings ope, with hideous roar
Leap forth those hungry brutes, while kneel in prayer,
Those heaps of Christians, how their spirits soar
Above or wounds or death.”
I stood and gazed, and thought, by those terrible ruins. I think I was as much affected as when I stood and gazed upon those marvellous structures, the Pyramids of Egypt. I took a snap-shot of my dear little wife within the ruins of the Colosseum, and we left it to ponder over its history and its ruin. We thought of the prophecy in prose of an Anglo-Saxon Pilgrim. He said: “While stands the Colosseum, Rome shall stand; when falls the Colosseum, Rome shall fall. And when Rome falls—the world.”
“The Pantheon” was one of the places we were delighted with. This dated from before Christ’s time, and is now in a wonderful state of preservation. It was originally dedicated by Agrippa to “All the gods.” It was consecrated as a church in the year 610 A.D. by Pope Boniface IV., under the name of St. Maria. The portico consists of sixteen granite corinthian columns nearly forty feet high, eight in the front and the others in three colonnades. Inside, we were struck with its beauty, especially by the arrangement for light which comes from a vast dome over our heads. We walked reverently as we knew we were walking on the very same pavement as Augustus and Agrippa, and others whose dust has long centuries ago, gone to its mother earth. Here rest the remains of one of the world’s greatest painters—Raphael. He was buried in 1620. In recent years a doubt was raised as to whether he really was buried here, and a search was allowed and made in 1833, it was then ascertained beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was buried here, as his remains were intact. On leaving the Pantheon, and before crossing the Tiber, we were reminded of the poet’s words referring to this church: “Simple, erect, austere, sublime—Shrine of all saints and temple of all gods from Jove to Jesus—Spared and blest by time, looking tranquilly while falls or nods arch, empire, each thing round thee, and man plods his way through thorns and ashes—glorious dome! shalt thou not last? Times’ scythe and tyrant’s rods shiver upon thee—Sanctuary and home of art and piety—Pantheon! Pride of Rome.”
After crossing the Tiber on one of its many wonderful bridges, adorned on each side by statues in stone of the celebrities of all ages, we found that just opposite this bridge is what is called the Castle of St. Angelo. An immense pile, circular in form, on its summit a large monument, and in front a clock of very large dimensions. It was erected by the Emperor Adrian, and intended to be for his own tomb and those of succeeding kings or emperors. We did not go inside, but we learned it was fitted and filled with the finest works of art, specially that in marble finished by the sculptor’s chisel. From here we started to drive to our hotel, for we were satiated with the wonderful sights of Rome. We passed the Palace of Justice, a modern building, indeed, only just having the finishing touches put upon it. It is of granite, the size is immense and the appearance noble. As we passed, churches and theatres seemed to be numerous. Gay and grave, sad and happy, new and old. There “Beeston Humber Motor Cycle” advertised. There the ruins of a building that had stood for a thousand years.
The Column of Trajan calls for a passing note. It is a fine specimen of the Doric order, and very fortunately it is in a good state of preservation. On three sides of the pedestal there are bas-reliefs, on the fourth side is an inscription to Trajan’s tomb. On the column are over 20 very fine carvings, representing the various wars in which he had taken part. On the top is a fine statue of the Apostle St. Peter. As we stood and looked upon this ancient monument and thought of the fact that it had stood there for well nigh on 2,000 years, we re-called the words of a poet who represents fairly the condition of things in Trajan’s day.
B. E. H. Plumbtree says:
“Through haughty Rome’s imperial street
The mighty Trajan rode,
And myrrh and balm and spices sweet
In silver censers glowed;
In car of state erect he stood,
And round him rushing like a flood
The people poured with shout and song,
And every eye through all that throng
Turned to him with delight.
For he had triumphed far and wide,
Had sated Rome’s high-soaring pride,
And, laying captive nations low,
Now dragged the pale and trembling foe
Bent down in sore affright.
And still before him spread afar
New pathways for his conquering car,
More crowns of world-wide fame to win
’Mid shouts of warriors battle din:
One triumph being o’er he spurned
And still his fevered spirit burned
New realms, new worlds to gain.
And still his legions on he led,
Legions that ne’er from foe had fled,
The glory of his reign.”
We left the mighty column standing in its solitary grandeur, a memorial of man’s achievement, while yet other things around us testified to the instability of all earthly things. “Change and decay in all around I see.”
We reached our hotel tired and hungry. We, however, soon found the value of a good wash, then a good table-de-hote meal, and then to write up our diaries and think of the day’s experiences, then to go to rest. After a good night’s sleep we rose refreshed. Had a good wash, then breakfast. After letters, postcards, etc., we prepared for further investigations of the great city. We went out, but no sooner did we appear in the great square facing our hotel, when, I should think, at least a dozen cabmen turned their horses heads towards us, asking for our patronage. We could only hire one, so we had choice and it fell upon a decent looking man—the very picture of a son of Italy—with a very good looking horse. This time we drove to the mound upon which stands the noble monument to General Garibaldi, the statue of one of Italy’s noblest heroes and patriots. Garibaldi was born at Nice in 1807. His family were quite obscure, and without name or fame. His father had a small coasting vessel, and to this, probably, is due something of the adventurous spirit of his son. When he had attained his manhood, he went to Genoa and then to Rome. Here he joined a band called “Young Italy,” and as a member of this band he was indicted for treason and sentenced to death.
By some means he escaped this sentence and fled to Marseilles in France. From here to South America, and here he joined the army and fought against Brazil. He became a most adventurous and daring leader. In 1848 he returned to Italy with a view to give himself to the army of Italy. They, however, did not receive him with the cordiality he deserved. He, however, raised an army of 1,500 brave men, like-minded with himself, and went against the Austrians, who were threatening Italy severely and dangerously. He showed skill and bravery on the field of battle, and so attracted the notice of Victor Immanuel, who with his own hand fastened on the hero’s breast the gold medal for military bravery. He became the idol of the nation of Italy, as General Gordon might be called the hero of the Soudan. So Garibaldi may be called the hero of Italy, and as in Gordon’s case, riches, titles, conventional distinctions were as nothing, so in the case of this illustrious soldier and hero. He had the honour of a seat in the Parliament of Italy in 1875. The latter part of his life was spent in retirement, and he died suddenly in the year 1882. And here to his memory is erected, in the very heart of the Eternal City, a splendid monument. His life-sized figure in bronze on a fine charger, while around the monument are bas-reliefs of great interest. From this high elevation we had a good view of the city and of the river Tiber, which is about equal to our river Trent for width, it is spanned in several places by bridges. Here we could look down the Appian Way. It would not be difficult, standing here, to imagine just away at yonder port, some ten or twelve miles away, a shipwrecked crew has landed its cargo of grain; also some soldiers with three prisoners, amongst them is Paul, the great apostle to the Gentiles. He is chained to a soldier; they come along the Appian Way, where we are just looking—a road that had often rung with the plaudits to the victors in many a hard fought fight. A strange sight to see this poor man, without money, friends, or influence. Yet he was the true conqueror of Rome. He said truly “God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things that are mighty.” Cor., chapter I, verse 27. St. Paul says again: “And so we went towards Rome, and from thence, when the brethren heard of us, they came to meet us as far as Appii forum, and the three taverns: whom when Paul saw, he thanked God, and took courage.” Acts, chapter 28, verses 14 & 15. Paul is allowed to speak for himself, having appealed to Cæsar. “And Paul dwelt two whole years in his own hired house, and received all that came to him, preaching the Kingdom of God, and teaching those things which concern the Lord Jesus Christ.”
Up this Way, it is likely, Titus brought up the spoils he had taken in his overthrow of the City of Jerusalem. The spoils consisted of the “Ark of the Covenant,” overlaid round about with gold, the golden pot that had manna, “and Aaron’s rod that budded.” Heb., chapter 9, verse 4. From this vantage ground we could see Rome, regal Rome, republican Rome, and in the distance St. Peter’s and the Vatican, and many hundreds of other churches and prominent buildings which hold the records of ecclesiastical Rome.
We visited, of course, the grand church or cathedral of St. Peter. This is the one thing we must see. This is the goal of millions of pious pilgrims from all lands, and at all seasons. I noticed in our illustrated papers of about November, 1908, the Pope had been celebrating his fifty years of priesthood, there was a great procession of thirty-six Cardinals, four hundred Bishops, fifty thousand spectators, and St. Peter’s offerings were asked for by His Holiness for chalices for the poorer churches. The Duchess of Norfolk presented £500 as a response. The Pope was carried shoulder high in the Sedia Gestoria, over the heads of the vast masses, and as he was borne aloft, he bestowed his blessings on all sides, and amongst all classes of people. Passing over or through the vast throng he was placed on his golden throne, whence he grants his indulgences and extends to his flock sympathy and prayers.
When we got within sight of the noble building we were constrained to stand still and look and let our thoughts and feelings have full play, for just then they were of a very mixed character, as we thought of Rome and its history, of this building and its surroundings, and what it meant. At the entrance we could see right through the large Piazza or Square, in the centre of which is an obelisk, I think Egyptian in character. On either side are fountains throwing their sparkling waters from almost innumerable jets. Then there are colonnades also, and 284 columns, each column is about 40-feet high, and on the column a statue about 16-feet high, these give an idea of the vastness of the building beyond. The obelisk in St. Peter’s Square weighs 3,270 tons—it is said that the ship that brought it from Egypt was so large that the Emperor Claudius had it sunk at the mouth of the Tiber to serve as part of the foundations for the outward wall of the Port of Ostia, in the year 39 A.D.
It was left until the year 1566 before orders were given by Pope Sextus to have it placed in this square. At the top of this great obelisk is a cross which is said to be a part of the real cross on which our Lord and Saviour was crucified. Passing this outward display of grandeur in the shape of statuary, columns and colonnades, we reached the steps leading up to the vestibule, these are massive marble steps, with colossal statues of St. Peter and St. Paul at the foot. It is said that this is the largest and the most costly church in the world. It was built on the site of the Emperor Nero’s circus, which was the scene of the most terrible martyrdoms, and it is also said to be the place where St. Peter was buried after his crucifixion. About the year 106 A.D., history tells us there was a monument erected here to mark the site of St. Peter’s tomb. Earlier a basilica was founded on this spot, which stood for over one thousand years, then showing signs of decay (and one cannot wonder at it). Nicholas V., in 1447, decided to erect one larger and better in its place.
CHAPTER VI
Rome continued: St. Peter’s building: St. Peter’s Statue: St. Peter’s resting place: The vast Columns, Pictures, Fonts, Confessionals, etc.: The Vatican: The Professional Letter Writer: The Arch of Titus: Statue of Nero, etc.
This decision, however, he never carried out, but in the year 1506, Julian II. laid the foundation of this vast church we are now about to enter. The first architect died while the work was in its early stages. Then Raphael, with two other architects, were appointed, and these also died during the building. Michael Angelo, who was then between seventy and eighty years of age, was selected to superintend the work. He is credited with the designing of that marvellous dome and cross, but did not live to see it completed. Indeed, not less than fifteen architects succeeded one another during the time of its building, and twenty-eight Popes reigned before it was completed (a time of 176 years). Its actual completion was not until 1784, a term of 278 years.
Carlo Fountana estimates the cost at £11,000,000. He states that it required 400,000 lbs. of bronze to form the statue of St. Peter inside the cathedral. The whole area is 240,000 square feet; when this is stated one may form some faint idea of the magnitude of the building. There are within and without the building columns in marble to the number of 756; 245 are inside. There are 46 altars and 121 lamps, most of them are kept burning night and day. One hundred and thirty-two Popes have been buried here, if you count as they do from St. Peter on to the last Pope who passed away. It is stated that the cost of keeping the place in repair is over £6,000 per year. Our first view of the Nave as we entered, created such a feeling of awe and reverence, that like the Queen of Sheba, of whom it is said, “when she saw the glory of Solomon there was no more spirit in her.” “And behold the half was not told me.” I. Kings, chapter 10, verses 5 and 7. I gazed with awe and admiration at one time on the marvellous Niagara Falls, and the sight seemed to bring me into the very presence of the great Creator, God. And now, to gaze upon works of such a colossal magnitude and of such a costly character, made us feel subdued and reverent. I may safely assume, I think, that every one will not see it just as we saw it; I mean they will interpret its meaning differently. We were some time before we came to realize the fact that it was of such extraordinary proportions. Looking at the cherubs which support the fonts that contain holy water, at first you think they are models of children, but when you come beside them you find they are much larger than ordinary grown-up people. On the floor we noticed there are stars or marks telling the length of the building as compared with other large cathedrals. St. Paul’s in London, is here given as 516-feet long, the Cathedral in Milan as 440-feet, the Cathedral in Florence is given as 495-feet, St. Peter’s, at Bologna, 440-feet, and St. Sophia, at Constantinople, 364-feet, while this St. Peter’s is 619-feet in length. On your right hand passing up the nave is the gigantic statue of St. Peter in bronze, which, with the foot held out slightly, I suppose millions of visitors from all nations and peoples and tongues have stooped to kiss the large toe, which, in consequence, is worn seriously out of shape. Some have gone so far as to say that this is the statue of Jupiter, only it has been slightly altered to suit its present purpose. I think it is Dean Swift who said (in a joke) “that the difference between the ancient and modern Rome was, that the one was the worshipper of Jupiter, and the other the worshipper of Jew Peter.” As we stood beside this image in bronze and looked to the right—the confessional to the left—the confessional. Visitors in kneeling posture before an image of the Virgin, another before a picture. Another walks up to the font and crosses his forehead with holy water, we felt that we could not but pity these poor deluded souls in bondage to a priestly intolerance, when they might have had the real liberty of the children of God.
Above this great statue of St. Peter, sitting in a chair of marble, in the act of blessing the people, is a portrait in mosaic of Pope Pius IX., and an inscription which states that he is the only Pope whose years of pontificate are more than were those of St. Peter. In the niches around the pillars which support the cupola are some very fine specimens of statuary, and above these are several small galleries which contain the Holy Relics, these are shown to the public on the great festive days. There are sixteen windows round the cupola, and over these are sixteen richly gilded pillars, between each of these are beautiful mosaics representing Popes and Bishops buried in the church, also of the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ, and the Apostles. Over the High Altar under the cupola, where the Pope alone has the right to say Mass, rises a very costly canopy of bronze, supported by four spiral columns of richly gilded bronze about 60-feet high, including the cross. The Altar is placed in such a position that the Pope saying Mass, faces the people. Under the Altar is St. Peter’s tomb; a double flight of steps of Greek marble lead down to it, and at the bottom is a statue of one of the Popes kneeling; at the sides are four large columns of alabaster, and above these are two pillars of agate with the statues of St. Peter and St. Paul. The place in which St. Peter’s ashes rest, and that forms part of the oratory, is covered with the most costly marble. When Peter said “silver and gold have I none,” Acts. chapter 3, verse 6, he could not have had the least idea of the costliness of his resting place in Rome.
All things seem to be provided for the purpose of a worship meant to captivate the senses by its external splendour and beauty, until the very object of religion, the cultivation of the Christian virtues, which are meekness and humility, are forgotten in the magnificence of a priesthood of princes, combining their splendour and luxuries with their duties. On all sides we see monuments to Popes and Bishops; such as one to Pope Innocent XII., with fine bas-reliefs in marble. The Pope Gregory’s monument which has some fine sculpture on it in marble. Another wing of this huge building designed by Michael Angelo contains an altar enriched with alabaster, amethyst, and other precious stones. Over the altar is an image of the Madonna that is greatly venerated, as it is supposed to have been brought here from one of the early churches. Altars, crosses, and confessionals confront you wherever you go in this great cathedral; also, pictures adorn the walls where there is no sculpture. St. Peter raising Tabitha from the dead. See Acts, chapter 9, verse 40. “But Peter put them all forth and kneeling down prayed; and turning to the body, said, ‘Tabitha, arise,’ and she opened her eyes, and when she saw Peter she sat up.”
Two porphry steps lead to the Tribune, about fifty yards long, where there is another altar, and over it four colossal bronze statues; on the right, the tomb of Urban VIII., on the left, that of Paul III. In one of the wings of this building there are eleven confessionals for strangers, and inscriptions indicating the nationality or language. On all sides we saw these relics of popery until we were sick of it. We could not visit the grottos, as time did not permit, we were very desirous of making a visit to the Vatican, but we could not for the same reason. We gathered from information gained in various ways, that the Vatican or Pope’s Palace is the largest palace in the world. The Pope is allowed from Italy about £130,000 per annum, and the Peter’s pence, from many lands, amounts to as much as £20,000 per annum. The Vatican contains 11,000 rooms, there are also 22 court yards. The ground it covers is the size of a town. The museums, the picture galleries, the statues in marble, are worth many millions of pounds. It is enriched with bronzes, marble columns, and the best things that can be had from all lands. Paintings of the very richest and highest class from all the old masters. Massive gold and silver goblets, the gifts of kings and of princes. Ancient relics from Assyria and from Egypt. Some Egyptian mummies in sarcophagi with hieroglyphics, indicating the locality from whence they came. In the library are 26,000 manuscripts, about 19,000 are in Latin, 4,000 in Greek, and about 2,000 in the Eastern and Oriental languages, besides about 50,000 printed volumes. In one of the halls there is a bible of the fifth century, which is a great rarity. The gifts from kings, emperors, princes, presidents of almost all lands, which have been sent to the Pope are too many to name or specify. We left St. Peter’s, pleased with some things, grieved with others. The greatness of Rome’s intellectual power; her art in sculpture and painting; proofs of this we saw on all hands. She had, at one time, over 400 temples, most of them with floors of marble, great domes with wonderful frescoes, gorgeous beyond anything we could conceive if we had not seen it. Walls of marble, porphyry, jasper, precious stones, stones polished till they shine like a mirror. Pictures, priceless and innumerable. All this, side by side with the degradation of the people, as seen in their daily visit to the confessional; or to the holy water; or to seek a mass from the priest for some friend in sickness; or a more important one for the soul of some brother, sister, or friend in the agony of purgatory, and who must remain there until certain masses are said. All this means the lowering of the poor to the enriching of the rich. Rome, I say, is to be pitied in this thing, under the heel of the Pope. Her wealth is lavished on churches, priests, cardinals, etc., but her poor abound on all hands. At the very church door you have the extremes of lavish wealth in church decoration, and extreme poverty in many worshippers. We had a view of the Vatican from without; it seems one vast area of palaces, churches, temples, galleries, colonnades, etc. I suppose we have some fine palaces in England; there are some, I believe, in France, Germany, in Egypt; but nowhere in the world is there a palace so large and costly as the Pope’s Palace in Rome. How unlike his divine Lord, “who had not where to lay His Head,” or his predecessor (allowing the expression) who said, “silver and gold have I none.” Mark Twain says of the place: “It is a perfect wilderness of statues, paintings, and curiosities of every description and every age. The old masters fairly swarm there. I shall remember the Transfiguration, by Raphael, because it was in a room by itself, and partly because it is acknowledged by all to be the first oil painting in the world. It is fine in tone and feeling, it is a beauty, it is fascinating. Acres and acres of walls and ceilings fairly papered with them. There is one thing I am certain of, with all the Michael Angelo’s, the Raphael’s, the Guido’s, and the old masters, the sublime history of Rome remains unpainted! They painted Virgins enough, Popes enough, and saintly scarecrows enough to people Paradise almost.”
Leaving the great St. Peter’s and the Vatican to return to our hotel for dinner, we noticed the mixed crowds jostling one another in the streets. The men seemed to be broad shouldered, and their rugged bronze faces and dark piercing eyes give you an idea that they look upon you with curiosity. Men dressed in home-spun blue cloth as a rule. The women dress in colours, no unusual thing to see them apparently enjoying a feed of raw onions and salad with a good square piece of black bread. Here we passed a professional letter writer, sitting in the open-air in the street with a table before him on which are pens, ink and paper. Here he is ready to read or write letters for the unlearned, and they are by no means few in the city of Rome. Many a declaration of passionate love must have been whispered into the ear of this old Italian, to be transmitted to some village maiden on the mountain heights, or in some sequestered village. A rustic approaches the old scribe as we watch him, he has received an epistle from some Italian beauty far away. As he waits his turn he looks over the precious documents with wandering eyes. Oh! if only he could himself spell out its sacred contents. His cheeks are flushed, his heart throbs as he hands the paper to the scribe; and, as the old man reads, the smile plays upon his face, his dark eyes brighten with delight. Yes! she is true to the boy who is far away, what a joy to know their hearts beat in unison and in passionate love. What a strange task! that of the Italian scribe. Sometimes his task is to read letters that tell of separations by death; the scalding tear, the heart throbs, tell of grief and anguish, a life’s hope crushed out. A dear mother, sister or lover passed away. All these experiences go through the old scribe’s hands daily. Young Italy, however, is awaking to her need as a nation, for education and for the training of the young.