Walks in Rome

by Augustus J. C. Hare

"During his sojourn in Rome Milton enjoyed the conversation of several learned and ingenious men, and particularly of Lucas Holsteinius, keeper of the Vatican library, who received him with the greatest humanity, and showed him all the Greek authors, whether in print or MS.—which had passed through his correction; and also presented him to Cardinal Barberini, who, at an entertainment of music, performed at his own expense, waited for him at the door, and taking him by the hand, brought him into the assembly. The next morning he waited upon the Cardinal to return him thanks for these civilities, and by the means of Holsteinius was again introduced to his Eminence, and spent some time in conversation with him."—Newton's Life of Milton.[240]

Over the entrance is a cartoon (with some differences) for the Navicella of Giotto.

From this church is entered the famous cemetery of the Cappuccini (not subterranean), consisting of four chambers, ornamented with human bones in patterns, and with mummified bodies. The earth was brought from Jerusalem. As the cemetery was too small for the convent, when any monk died, the one who had been buried longest was ejected to make room for him. The loss of a grave was supposed to be amply compensated by the short rest in the holy earth which the body had already enjoyed. It is pleasant to read on the spot the pretty sketch in the "Improvisatore."

"I was playing near the church of the Capuchins, with some other children who were all younger than myself. There was fastened on the church door a little cross of metal; it was fastened about the middle of the door, and I could just reach it with my hand. Always when our mothers had passed by with us they had lifted us up that we might kiss the holy sign. One day, when we children were playing, one of the youngest of them inquired, 'why the child Jesus did not come down and play with us?' I assumed an air of wisdom, and replied that he was really bound upon the cross. We went to the church door, and although we found no one, we wished, as our mothers had taught us, to kiss him, but we could not reach up to it; one therefore lifted up the other, but just as the lips were pointed for the kiss, that one who lifted the other lost his strength, and the kissing one fell down just when his lips were about to touch the invisible child Jesus. At that moment my mother came by, and when she saw our child's play, she folded her hands, and said, 'You are actually some of God's angels, and thou art mine own angel,' added she, and kissed me.

"The Capuchin monk, Fra Martino, was my mother's confessor. He made very much of me, and gave me a picture of the Virgin, weeping great tears, which fell, like rain-drops, down into the burning flames of hell, where the damned caught this draught of refreshment. He took me over with him into the convent, where the open colonnade, which enclosed in a square the little potato-garden, with the two cypress and orange-trees, made a very deep impression upon me. Side by side, in the open passages, hung old portraits of deceased monks, and on the door of each cell were pasted pictures from the history of the martyrs, which I contemplated with the same holy emotions as afterwards the masterpieces of Raphael and Andrea del Sarto.

"'Thou art really a bright youth,' said he; 'thou shall now see the dead.' Upon this, he opened a little door of a gallery which lay a few steps below the colonnade. We descended, and now I saw round about me skulls upon skulls, so placed one upon another, that they formed walls, and therewith several chapels. In these were regular niches, in which were seated perfect skeletons of the most distinguished of the monks, enveloped in their brown cowls, their cords round their waists, and with a breviary or withered bunch of flowers in their hands. Altars, chandeliers, bas-reliefs, of human joints, horrible and tasteless as the whole idea. I clung fast to the monk, who whispered a prayer, and then said to me, 'Here also I shall some time sleep; wilt thou thus visit me?'

"I answered not a word, but looked horrified at him, and then round about me upon the strange grizzly assembly. It was foolish to take me, a child, into this place. I was singularly impressed with the whole thing, and did not feel myself easy again until I came into his little cell, where the beautiful yellow oranges almost hung in at the window, and I saw the brightly coloured picture of the Madonna, who was borne upwards by angels into the clear sunshine, while a thousand flowers filled the grave in which she had rested.....

"On the festival of All-Saints I was down in the chapel of the dead, where Fra Martino took me when I first visited the convent. All the monks sang masses for the dead, and I, with two other boys of my own age, swung the incense-breathing censer before the great altar of skulls. They had placed lights in the chandeliers made of bones, new garlands were placed around the brows of the skeleton monks, and fresh bouquets in their hands. Many people, as usual, thronged in; they all knelt and the singers intoned the solemn Miserere. I gazed for a long time on the pale yellow skulls, and the fumes of the incense which wavered in strange shapes between me and them, and everything began to swim round before my eyes; it was as if I saw everything through a large rainbow; as if a thousand prayer-bells rung in my ear; it seemed as if I was borne along a stream; it was unspeakably delicious—more, I know not; consciousness left me,—I was in a swoon."—Hans Ch. Andersen.

The street behind the Piazza Cappuccini leads to the Church of S. Isidoro,[241] built 1622, for Irish Franciscan monks. The altar-piece, representing S. Isidore, is by Andrea Sacchi. This church contains several tombs of distinguished Irishmen who have died in Rome.

Opposite are the recently founded convent and small chapel of the Pregatrici—nuns most picturesquely attired in blue and white, and devoted to the perpetual adoration of the Sacrament, who sing during the Benediction service, like the nuns of the Trinità di Monti.