Adjoining the church is the very picturesque Cloister of the Monastery, built in 1190, for Cistercian monks, but assigned as a residence for any Patriarchs of Jerusalem who might visit Rome. Here are preserved many ancient inscriptions, and other fragments from the neighbouring catacombs.
The basilica is now almost engulfed in the Cemetery of S. Lorenzo, the great modern burial-ground of Rome. It was opened in 1837, but has been much enlarged in the last ten years. Hither wend the numerous funerals which are seen passing through the streets after Ave-Maria, with a procession of monks bearing candles. A frightful gate, with a laudatory inscription to Pius IX., and a hideous modern chapel, have been erected. There are very few fine monuments. The best are those in imitation of the cinque-cento tombs of which there are so many in the Roman churches. That by Podesti, the painter, to his wife, in the right corridor of the cloister, is touching. The higher ground to the left, behind the church, is occupied by the tombs of the rich. Those of the poor are indiscriminately scattered over a wide plain. A range of cliffs on the left were perforated by the catacombs of Sta. Cyriaca, which, with the bad taste so constantly displayed in Rome, have been wantonly and shamefully broken up. Those who do not wish to descend into a catacomb, may here see (from without) all their arrangements—in the passages lined with sepulchres, and even some small chapels, lined with rude frescoes, laid open to the air, where the cliff has been cut away.
A Roman funeral is a most sad sight, and strikes one with an unutterable sense of desolation.
"After a death the body is entirely abandoned to the priests, who take possession of it, watch over it, and prepare it for burial; while the family, if they can find refuge anywhere else, abandon the house and remain away a week.... The body is not ordinarily allowed to remain in the house more than twelve hours, except on condition that it is sealed up in lead or zinc. At nightfall a sad procession of becchini and frati may be seen coming down the street, and stopping before the house of the dead. The becchini are taken from the lowest classes of the people, and hired to carry the corpse on the bier and to accompany it to the church and cemetery. They are dressed in shabby black cappe, covering their head and face as well as their body, and having two large holes cut in front of the eyes to enable them to see. These cappe are girdled round the waist, and the dirty trousers and worn-out shoes are miserably manifest under the skirts of their dress—showing plainly that their duty is occasional. All the frati and becchini, except the four who carry the bier, are furnished with wax candles, for no one is buried in Rome without a candle. You may know the rank of the person to be buried by the lateness of the hour and the number of the frati. If it be the funeral of a person of wealth or a noble, it takes place at a late hour, the procession of frati is long, and the bier elegant. If it be a state-funeral, as of a prince, carriages accompany it in mourning, the coachman and lackeys are bedizened in their richest liveries, and the state hammer-cloths are spread on the boxes, with the family arms embossed on them in gold. But if it be a pauper's funeral, there are only becchini enough to carry the bier to the grave, and two frati, each with a little candle; and the sunshine is yet on the streets when they come to take away the corpse.
"You will see this procession stop before the house where the corpse is lying. Some of the becchini go up-stairs, and some keep guard below. Scores of shabby men and boys are gathered round the frati; some attracted simply by curiosity, and some for the purpose of catching the wax, which gutters down from the candles as they are blown by the wind. The latter may be known by the great horns of paper which they carry in their hands. While this crowd waits for the corpse, the frati light their candles, and talk, laugh, and take snuff together. Finally comes the body, borne down by four of the becchini. It is in a common rough deal coffin, more like an ill-made packing-case than anything else. No care or expense has been laid out upon it to make it elegant, for it is only to be seen for a moment. Then it is slid upon the bier, and over it is drawn the black velvet pall with golden trimmings, on which a cross, death's head, and bones are embroidered. Four of the becchini hoist it on their shoulders, the frati break forth into their hoarse chaunt, and the procession sets out for the church. Little and big boys and shabby men follow along, holding up their paper horns against the sloping candles to catch the dripping wax. Every one takes off his hat, or makes the sign of the cross, or mutters a prayer, as the body passes; and with a dull, sad, monotonous chaunt, the candles gleaming and flaring, and casting around them a yellow flickering glow, the funeral winds along through the narrow streets, and under the sombre palaces and buildings, where the shadows of night are deepening every moment. The spectacle seen from a distance, and especially when looked down upon from a window, is very effective; but it loses much of its solemnity as you approach it; for the frati are so vulgar, dirty, and stupid, and seem so utterly indifferent and heartless, as they mechanically croak out their psalms, that all other emotions yield to a feeling of disgust."—Story's Roba di Roma.
"Ces rapprochements soudains de l'antiquité et des temps modernes, provoqués par la vue d'un monument dont la destinée se lie à l'une et aux autres, sont très-fréquents à Rome. L'histoire poétique d'Énée aurait pu m'en fournir plusieurs. Ainsi dans l'Énéide, aux funérailles de Pallas, une longue procession s'avance, portant des flambeaux funèbres, suivant l'usage antique, dit Virgile. En effet, on se souvient que l'usage des cierges remontait à l'abolition des sacrifices humains, accompli dans les temps héroïques par le dieu pélasgique Hercule. La description que fait Virgile des funérailles de Pallas pourrait convenir à un de ces enterrements romains où l'on voit de longues files de capucins marchant processionnellement en portant des cierges.
... 'Lucet via longo
Ordine flammarum.'"
Æn. xi. 143.
On the other side of the road from S. Lorenzo is the Catacomb of St. Hippolytus, interesting as described by the Christian poet Prudentius, who wrote at the end of the fourth century.
"Not far from the city walls, among the well-trimmed orchards, there lies a crypt buried in darksome pits. Into its secret recesses a steep path in the winding stairs directs one, even though the turnings shut out the light. The light of day, indeed, comes in through the doorway, as far as the surface of the opening, and illuminates the threshold of the portico; and when, as you advance further, the darkness as of night seems to get more and more obscure throughout the mazes of the cavern, there occur at intervals apertures cut in the roof which convey the bright rays of the sun upon the cave. Although the recesses, twisting at random this way and that, form narrow chambers with darksome galleries, yet a considerable quantity of light finds its way through the pierced vaulting down into the hollow bowels of the mountain. And thus throughout the subterranean crypt it is possible to perceive the brightness and enjoy the light of the absent sun. To such secret places is the body of Hippolytus conveyed, near to the spot where now stands the altar dedicated to God. That same altar-slab (mensa) gives the sacrament, and is the faithful guardian of its martyrs' bones, which it keeps laid up there in expectation of the Eternal Judge, while it feeds the dwellers by the Tiber with holy food. Wondrous is the sanctity of the place! The altar is at hand for those who pray, and it assists the hopes of men by mercifully granting what they need. Here have I, when sick with ills both of soul and body, oftentimes prostrated myself in prayer and found relief.... Early in the morning men come to salute (Hippolytus): all the youth of the place worship here: they come and go until the setting of the sun. Love of religion collects together into one dense crowd both Latins and foreigners; they imprint their kisses on the shining silver; they pour out their sweet balsams; they bedew their faces with tears."—See Roma Sotterranea, p. 98.