CHAPTER X.

Trajan's Gate--The Appian Way--The English Cemetery--Catacombs of St. Calixtus--Reflections on the Italian seat of government--Churches--S. Paolo Fuori le Mura--Santa Maria Maggiore--S. Pietro in Vincoli--"Was St. Peter ever in Rome?"--Fountains of Rome--Dell' Aqua Felice--Paulina --Trevi--Rome's famous Aqueducts--Beggars--Priests.

Trajan's Gate, near the Coliseum, is a beautiful piece of architecture. No Jew can ever be prevailed upon to pass beneath it--at which we can hardly wonder, for it is like forcing them again to walk under the "Caudine forks," reminding them all too forcibly of their conquerors, the destruction of their beloved city, and the bitter humiliation they have ever since suffered.

After passing the Arch of Trajan, we soon reach the great high-road, paved with diamond-shaped blocks of lava stone, extending a vast distance, even beyond Naples. This is the celebrated Via Appia. It takes its name from Appius Claudius the Censor. How the mind travels back into centuries long past! How the imagination recalls the glory of ancient times! Like Milton, we seem to see--

"The conflux issuing forth, or entering in: Proctors, proconsuls, to their provinces

Hasting, or on return, in robes of state; Lictors and rods, the ensigns of their power; Legions and cohorts, turms of horse and wings; Or embassies from regions far remote, In various habits, on the Appian road."

The road, apart from itself, has many interests from the numerous relics and monuments of distant ages all along its way. First, we pass the tomb of the Scipios, just inside the Gate of St. Sebastian, and the Arch of Drusus; then the tombs of Augustus and Livia, and many others, mentioned by St. Paul as belonging to Cæsar's household; then, crossing the Aqua-taccio, is the old church Domine quo Vadis, or "Whither goest thou?" where, according to tradition, St. Peter, flying from persecution, met the Saviour, who caused him to return by asking this question. Then we come to the tomb of Cæcilia Metella:

"Standing with half its battlements alone, And with two thousand years of ivy grown, The garland of eternity."

The "stern round tower" looks little like a woman's grave. Many other tombs, all possessing more or less interest, we passed, and I must not forget the English cemetery, where--

"Like an infant's smile, over the dead A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread."

Here lie the remains of our two young poets, taken from us in the flower of their manhood, ere genius had fairly ripened, and ere, alas! we had learned to appreciate them at their true value.

At length we arrived at the Catacombs of St. Calixtus, the most extensive in Rome. We first passed through the church of St. Sebastian, and then, following a monk with lighted tapers, were soon underground among dismal tunnels, with here and there an open tomb, or rather great shelves cut in the soft brownish rocks (_tufa_). In many places the sides of these tunnel passages were almost honeycombed with open graves. There were still in some of these little heaps of decaying bones: occasionally a name was roughly cut below, executed probably by one of the little flock of the faithful, and an inscription in Greek, for the early church was more Greek than Latin. These long corridors extend in every direction, and, in fact, surround the city on this side. It was a frequent custom amongst the Christians in Rome to pay visits on Sunday to the sepulchres of the martyrs, and especially to the Catacombs. When the sacred roll of martyrs had scarcely been closed, Jerome went the round with his schoolfellows, and speaks awesomely of the darkness and dread gloom of these crypts, deep in the earth, dimly lighted by broken gleams through shafts and holes. They were reached by a narrow entrance, down a long flight of steps, and through innumerable winding passages, all carefully concealed from the persecutors. How great a contrast to the glowing sunshine, and the light breezes, which whispered through the vine leaves on the hills outside! God's love and man's hatred! Our thoughts wandered away irresistibly to those times when the Christians lived here like moles underground, until they died, and were laid by the loving and devoted hands of their comrades in these dark shelves of the rock. It is said that there are some seven million bodies buried in these Catacombs. True enough that all around the Eternal City is one vast tomb, especially in the direction of the Via Appia, recalling the prophecy, "He shall fill the places with dead bodies."

I have sometimes thought it a pity that Rome rather than Milan was selected as the seat of the Italian Government. I say Milan, because I think neither Florence nor Turin are suitable from a military point of view, as, if once the heights around were seized by a hostile army, the city would be lost. Now, Milan, as far as the eye can reach, stands in the midst of fine open plains, and an enemy could find but little shelter or commanding position. Rome seems almost polluted by these vast tombs surrounding her, and will require an immense amount of labour to render it healthy as a continual residence. Yet no doubt Nature, the never-resting, ever-working, irresistible evolutionary power, will assist in the coming changes. For "Nature," says Emerson, "is nascent, infant. When we are dizzied with the arithmetic of the savant toiling to compute the length of her line, the return of her curve, we are steadied by the perception that a great deal is doing; that all seems just begun: remote aims are in active accomplishment. We can point nowhere to anything final; but tendency appears on all hands: planet, system, constellation, total Nature, is growing like a field of maize in July; is becoming somewhat else; is in rapid metamorphosis.... Says Nature 'I have not arrived at any end; I grow, I grow.'"

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It was a great relief to gain the open air after the long and saddening exploration of the Catacombs. Some three or four miles on the road towards Ostia we passed some very old monuments and tombs, and also the ruins of ancient residences. All around is an uncultivated wilderness, a few fine but rusty iron gates alone remaining to show their past pomp and grandeur as suburban residences.

After passing these, we came suddenly on a splendid, newly built Cathedral. It was indeed surprising to find so large and handsome a structure far away from any town or village--completely isolated among the dead! It was the Basilica S. Paolo Fuori le Mura, which was built in 1847 in this uninhabited spot, on the site of a venerable and interesting church burnt in 1823, which had been founded by Constantine to mark the grave of St. Paul. The present edifice was rebuilt under the eye of Pius IX., who was to have been buried here. It is some four hundred feet long, and is divided into fine aisles and noble pillars of Baveno marble and granite in single blocks, two of which support an arch over the altar, dedicated to the sister of Honorius, who completed the former church, and whose design has been copied in the present one, which also contains copies of the old mosaics by Giotto's pupils. The front is likewise a copy, and when completed is to be adorned by a great mosaic costing 30,000 scudi. The timber roof is richly carved and gilt; and the frescoes in the nave are ornamented with mosaic heads of all the popes, chiefly modern, from the government studios, but there are a few ancient ones among them. It seems as though the whole civilized world had united to do honour to this noble edifice and the great Apostle in memory of whom it was erected. The alabaster pillars of the high altar were presented by the infidel Pacha of Egypt; a detached altar in the transept was a gift from the heretic Emperor of Russia; the granite pillars in the nave came from the Emperor of Austria. Among them is the one celebrated by Wordsworth when it stood on the Simplon, and which Napoleon intended for the triumphal arch of Milan. Some noble-minded and generous Jew has bequeathed a large sum for the support of the church; and the King of Holland gave 50,000 francs for the same purpose--truly a world's acknowledgment of St. Paul's large-hearted, self-sacrificing, and noble life. Among other treasures it possesses a painting of the Conversion of St. Paul by Camuccini, the choir by Carlo Maderno, and a fine St. Benedict by Ramaldi.

An adjoining cloister, belonging to the Benedictine Convent, dates from the thirteenth century. It rests on fluted and twisted columns, and contains in its library a small collection of Christian gravestones from A.D. 355. One bears the figure of an organ, with the words, "_Rustreus te vit, and Feci_." The atrium of the old church, which is the distinguishing mark of a Basilica, existed down to the seventeenth century, and is now replaced by a modern court. The plan of the former church was a duplicate of that of old St. Peter's. About twenty-four of its columns were taken from the tomb of Hadrian; and yet one other remarkable feature consists in its having been under the patronage of the English kings till the time of Henry VIII., when that fickle monarch broke allegiance with Rome altogether, for reasons of his own. Though this church always seems to have struck travellers with admiration, as combining in itself the last reminiscence of pagan Rome, and the earliest mementoes of the Christian world, it had nevertheless been so far altered by the processes of decay and whitewash, that many of its most striking peculiarities and beauties had been effaced, even before its total destruction by fire.

I admired the now existing church extremely, both for its noble proportions and the beautiful simplicity of its design and ornamentation. The stained glass windows are one of its distinguishing marks of beauty. "It is a woful thing, a sad necessity, that any Christian soul should pass from earth without once seeing an antique painted window, with the bright Italian sunshine glowing through it. There is no other such true symbol of the glories of the better world, where a celestial radiance will be inherent in all things and persons, and render each continually transparent to the sight of all." The atrium, with its marble floor of almost spotless beauty, its lofty columns and noble simplicity of architecture, represented my beau-ideal of a Christian temple. There was not a single seat or chair--which I believe is the case with all Basilicas, the congregation standing and kneeling only--and this fact greatly adds to the apparent vastness of this noble structure, which forms a beautiful and suitable monument to the great and good St. Paul.

While on the subject of churches, I may mention two other fine edifices we visited, both full of interest, though of a diverse nature.

The Church of Santa Maria Maggiore, on the Esquiline Hill, near the railway station, is one of the four chief Basilicas of Rome, and well repays a visit. It gives one more the idea of what a Basilica was really meant to be than any similar edifice in Rome. The richly painted panels, the interior colonnade with its long harmonious rows of pillars, the clerestory decorated _en suite_ with small pilasters and panels, and the beautiful panelled roof, all combine to give the building an air of lofty and noble magnificence. The high altar is very beautiful, with its decorations of marble, gilding, and precious stones: it is also interesting as possessing the crypt in which Pius IX. was interred. The tombs of Sixtus V. and Pius V. are also here; and in contrast to the S. Paolo Basilica, which has no side chapels at all, this church possesses two very fine ones, the Borghese, and the Presigio, which are as rich in ornamental work as the rest of the building. The latter contains the supposititious cradle of our Lord; and the former has _in veritas_ the beautiful tomb of a Borghese princess and high-born Englishwoman (Lady Geraldine Talbot). The altar of the Virgin is supported by four pillars of oriental jaspar, agate, and gilded bronze; the image, which is said to have been the work of St. Luke(!), is richly adorned with precious stones. The church itself abounds in beautiful pictures, statuary, and tombs. The chapel of Santa Lucia is also very interesting, possessing many beautiful tombs, bas-reliefs, etc.

The other church we visited, S. Pietro in Vincoli (St. Peter in Chains), is considered the most ancient in Rome. It is a noble hall, supported by twenty columns of Parian marble, and has many fine and interesting monuments. It is always a debatable point this--St. Peter's presence in Rome. We have no actual proof that he was ever there, and yet the great number of places associated with his name and made sacred to his memory seem to point strongly to such a supposition. Yet it may be only the religious deceit of the priesthood, who thus couple persons and things with places, and insert monstrous legends and traditions for their own mercenary ends, and, considering the immense number of extraordinary relics, it is very evident that Mr. Shapira has had many predecessors in the art of manufacturing antiquities.

One of the most pleasing features of Rome is its numerous beautiful fountains, generally to be found in the piazzas, sometimes surrounded by fine architectural and sculptural groupings. It seems as if the great men of every age in this city "have found no better way of immortalizing their memories than by the shifting, indestructible, ever-new, ever-changing upgush and downfall of water. They have written their names in that unstable element, and proved it a more durable record than brass or marble."

The Fontana dell' Aqua Felice, near the baths of Diocletian, has a fine statue of Moses striking the rock, by Prospero da Brescia, who is said to have died of mortification at the ridicule excited by the figure of the great lawgiver, in which a slight uncouthness is certainly perceptible. The figures of Aaron and Gideon have been added to the group by other artists. This fountain was celebrated by Tasso under the name of the Fontana di Termini. The Fontana Paulina on the summit of the Janiculum, near Porto S. Pancrazio, is like a triple triumphal arch. The Fontana di Trevi, situated near the Palazzo Poli, is the most famous in Rome. Its clear, sparkling water comes through the subterranean aqueducts from far beyond the city walls. The design of the fountain is by some sculptor of the Bernini school, and represents Neptune with his attendant tritons, Health and Abundance. "It is as magnificent a piece of work as ever human skill contrived. At the foot of the palatial façade is strewn, with careful art and ordered irregularity, a broad and broken heap of massive rock, looking as if it might have lain there since the deluge. Over a central precipice falls the water in a semicircular cascade, and from a hundred crevices on all sides silvery jets gush up, and streams spout out of the mouths and nostrils of stone monsters, and fall in glistening drops; while other rivulets, that have run wild, come leaping from one rude step to another, over stones that are mossy, slimy, and green with sedge, because in a century of their wild play, Nature has adopted the Fountain of Trevi, with all its elaborate devices, for her own. Finally the water, tumbling, sparkling, and dashing, with joyous haste and never-ceasing murmur, pours itself into a great marble-brimmed reservoir, and fills it with a quivering tide, on which is seen continually a snowy semicircle of momentary foam from the principal cascade, as well as a multitude of snow points from smaller jets. The basin occupies the whole breadth of the piazza, whence flights of steps ascend to its border. A boat might float and make voyages from one shore to another, in this mimic lake."

The great aqueducts, by which these fountains are supplied, are marvels of ingenuity and engineering skill, sometimes bringing the pure crystal stream from lakes and hills thirty and forty miles away. Dyer, the old eighteenth-century poet, has a graceful mention of them in his "Ruins of Rome":

"From yon blue hills Dim in the clouds, the radiant aqueducts Turn their innumerable arches o'er The spacious desert, brightening in the sun, Proud and more proud in their august approach; High o'er irriguous vales and woods and towns, Glide the soft whispering waters in the wind, And more united pour their silver streams Among the figur'd rocks in murmuring falls, Musical ever."

These noble aqueducts were the chief source of Rome's health and luxury, and were in charge of Curators or Prefects, who formed a kind of "water board." It is a system which might with great advantage be adopted by our own large cities, which are lamentably wanting in a good and liberal supply of fresh water--greedy monopolists charging what they choose, and giving us the precious fluid clean or unclean, when or how they like. The Government might do much to improve this state of things by constructing aqueducts after the ancient Roman style.

Another marked feature in Roman life we are _not_ so anxious to see imitated in our own country, is the abnormal quantity of beggars one meets everywhere. They are of every sort and description, and swarm round you wherever you go. Some of them a most pitiful and distressing sight, only half clothed and seemingly starving. Their number is only equalled by the legion of priests, who come upon you at every turn, in all grades, from cardinals to novices. Of course, this is by no means to be wondered at, Rome being the one great focus and clerical seminary of the Roman Catholic world. But the contrast between the starving squalid poor and the legions of well-fed priests is very painful.