From the Thames to the Tiber

B. E. H. Plumbtree says:

“Through haughty Rome’s imperial streetThe mighty Trajan rode,And myrrh and balm and spices sweetIn silver censers glowed;In car of state erect he stood,And round him rushing like a floodThe people poured with shout and song,And every eye through all that throngTurned 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 foeBent down in sore affright.And still before him spread afarNew 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 spurnedAnd still his fevered spirit burnedNew 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.

Our hotel is our home of rest, and we certainly enjoyed it after hours of travel and inspection.  Sights seen that we had never dreamed of.  Pictures, sculpture, arch, column, colonnades, so profuse and so attractive that we forgot we were tired until we turned away for a break and a rest.

Again, we are on the tram, and down one of the principal boulevards, past shops, bazaars, cafes, hotels and churches, to the Pont du Angelo, over the Tiber.  This is a lovely piece of workmanship, built of solid masonry, and on the pont, or bridge, there are six statues on each side on pedestals, representing the various architects, sculptors and painters of ancient Rome, and as we crossed the bridge, right in front of us we saw the castle of St. Angelo, erected by one of the Emperors for his own tomb, and for the tombs of his successors.  As most of the important buildings in Rome, it is lavishly decorated with marble sculpture, more fitted for a palace than for a mausoleum.  In the tenth century it was turned into a fortress and fell into the hands of the barons, who, during a long time, made use of it against the city itself.  It is said that Clement VII. took refuge in it in the year 1527.  To-day it is a beautiful temple.  The floor is very largely composed of Italian marble; on the staircase, on our right on entering, is a fine statue of Michael the arch-angel, in a niche.  In another room are some fine paintings by Pierin; another room still retains some of the implements of torture of the Inquisition.  On the top stands the bronze statue of the arch-angel Michael, placed there in 1770; it is said it is placed there in memory of a vision of St. Gregory the Great.  According to tradition, when Rome was severely visited by a pestilence, and while the Pope was going in procession to St. Peter’s, to obtain the cessation of the scourge, he saw, on arriving at this bridge, an angel on the top of the mausoleum, in the act of replacing his sword in its sheath, as a sign that the visitation of the scourge was at an end.  On account of this the castle was named “The Castle of the Holy Angel.”  “The Arch of Titus” is another fine specimen of the builders’ art.  Erected to him by the people in homage of his great victory in Palestine over the Hebrews, and of the destruction of the Holy City of Jerusalem, in the year 79 A.D., and consecrated to his memory by his successor in the year 81 A.D.  It has somewhat suffered by the ages that have passed over it; still, it is marvellous that it has so long withstood the ravages of the iron tooth of time.  There is a fine frieze in the inside and some fine bas-reliefs.  One, that of the Hebrew prisoners, and Titus’ triumphal march to Rome.  In Macaulay’s we find the following verses, evidently written on the subject of Titus’ victory:

“Valerius struck at Titus and lopped off half his crest,But Titus stabbed Valerius, a span deep in his breast.Like a mast snapped by the tempest, Valerius reeled and fell.Ah! woe is me for the good house that loves the people well!Then shouted loud the Latins, and with one rush they boreThe struggling Romans backward, three lances length or more:And up they took proud Tarquin, and laid him on the shield,And four strong yeomen bore him, still senseless from the field.But fiercer grew the fighting around Valerius dead,For Titus dragged him by the foot, and Anlus by the head.Twice tenfold round the body the roar of battle roseLike the roar of a burning forest, when a strong north wind blows.Now backward and now forward, rocked furiously the fray,Till none could see Valerius, and none knew where he lay.For shivered arms and ensigns were heaped there in a mound,And corpses stiff, and dying men, that writhed upon the ground,And wounded horses kicking, and snorting purple foam,Right well did such a couch befit a Consular of Rome.”

There are also, in this palace, the seven-branched candlesticks, and many other objects taken from the Temple of the Holy City.