“⸺such a sacred and home-felt delight
Such sober certainty of waking bliss,
I never heard till now⸺”
On Good Friday, after the last miserere, we went to St. Peter’s, where a most brilliantly illuminated cross was suspended; we did not however, continue there long, being almost satiated with these raree-shows. I then had the pleasure of spending a quiet evening with my friends Mr. and Mrs. H⸺, to whose interest I had been indebted for securing my places at each of the misereres, as well as for many other kind attentions during my stay in Rome.
Easter Sunday at length arrived, which in every respect, and particularly in point of pageantry, is the greatest festival observed by the Roman church throughout the year. The two first grand ceremonies of the procession, and the pope’s benediction, I did not attend. I was present, however, at the illumination of St. Peter’s, and the exhibition of fire-works at the castle of St. Angelo; but, alas! denied the gratification of seeing the brilliant spectacles. I cannot, however, resist the inclination to transcribe the following animated description of these enchanting scenes, as well as the preceding ceremonies, extracted from a late publication, entitled “Rome in the Nineteenth Century.”
“On this day the church puts forth all her pomp and splendour. The pope assists at high mass, and there is a procession, which, seen to the highest advantage in that noble church, is as grand as any such procession can be. A pen was erected for the ladies on the left of the high altar, for wherever the pope comes, they are always cooped up for fear of accidents. Luckily, however, it was unprovided with a grate, so they could see more to perfection. It was, in all respects, a happy liberation from the gloomy imprisonment they had been sustaining, day after day, behind the grate, in the sistine chapel. The sable robes that they wore during the last week, were now universally thrown aside, and the gayer—the more catholicly orthodox—were they.
“The church was lined with the Guarda Nobili, in their splendid uniforms of gold and scarlet, and nodding plumes of white ostrich feathers; and the Swiss guards, with their polished cuirasses and steel helmets. The great centre aisle was kept clear by a double wall of armed men, for the grand procession, the approach of which, after much expectation, was proclaimed by the sound of a trumpet, from the farther end of the church. A long band of priests advanced, loaded with still augmenting magnificence, as they ascended to the higher orders. Cloth of gold and embroidery of gold and silver, and crimson velvet, and mantles of spotted ermine, and flowing trains, and attendant train-bearers, and mitres, and crucifixes glittering with jewels, and priests, and patriarchs, and bishops, and cardinals, dazzled our astonished eyes, and filled the long length of St. Peter’s. Lastly came the pope in his crimson chair of state, borne on the shoulders of twenty Palefrenieri, arrayed in robes of white, and wearing the tiara, or triple crown of the conjoined Trinity, with a canopy of cloth of silver, floating over his head, and preceded by two men, carrying enormous fans, composed of large plumes of ostrich feathers, mounted on long gilded wands. He stopped to pay his adorations to the miraculous Madonna, in her chapel, about half way up; and this duty, which he never omits, being performed, he was slowly borne past the high altar, liberally giving his benediction with the twirl of his fingers as he passed. They sat him down upon a magnificent stool, in front of the altar, on which he knelt, and the crown being taken off, and the cardinals taking off their little red scull-caps, and all kneeling in a row, he was supposed to pray. Having remained in this attitude a few minutes, they took him to the chair prepared for him, on the right of the throne. There he read, or seemed to read, something out of a book, for it was impossible, that without his spectacles, he could really make it out; and then he was again taken to the altar, on which his tiara was placed; and bareheaded, he repeated, or as by courtesy they call it, sang a small part of the service, threw up clouds of incense, and was removed to the crimson canopied throne, and high mass was celebrated by a cardinal and two bishops, at which he assisted, that is, he got up and sat down, in particular parts.
“During the whole service, I could not help observing, that the only part of the congregation who where in the least attentive, were the small body of English, whom curiosity, and perhaps sense of decorum, rendered so. All the Italians seemed to consider it quite as much of a pageant as ourselves, but neither a new, nor an interesting one; and they were walking about, and talking, and interchanging pinches of snuff with each other, exactly as if it had been a place of amusement, till the tinkling of a little bell, which announced the elevation of the Host, changed the scene. Every knee was now bent to the earth; every voice was hushed; the reversed arms of the military rung with an instantaneous clang on the marble pavement, as they sunk on the ground, and all was still as death. This did not last above two minutes. The Host was swallowed; and so begun and ended the only thing that bore even the smallest outward aspect of religion. They brought the pope, however, again to the footstool to pray. Two cardinals always support him, some priestly attendants bear up his train, and others busy themselves about his drapery, while two or three others put on and off his tiara and mitre; and so conduct him to and fro, between the altar and the throne, where he sits at the top of his magnificent temple, exactly like an idol dressed up to be worshipped. The long silver robes, the pale, dead, inanimate countenance, and helpless appearance of the good old man, tend still more to give him the air of a thing without any will of its own, but which is carried about, and set in motion, and managed by the priests, and taught by them to make certain movements.
“At last they put him again into the chair, set the crown upon his head, and, preceded by the great ostrich feather fans, he was borne out of the church. We made all possible expedition up to the loggia,—a temporary sort of gallery, erected on the top of the colonnade, opposite to that occupied by the royal families,—and secured places in the front row. An expecting crowd had long covered the broad expanded steps, and platform of the church, and spread itself over the piazza. The military now poured out of St. Peter’s and formed an immense ring, before its spacious front, behind which the horse guards were drawn up, and an immense number of carriages, filled with splendidly dressed women, and thousands of people on foot, were assembled. But the multitude almost shrunk into insignificance in the vast area of the piazza; and neither piety, curiosity, nor even that all universal gregarious passion, that makes people crowd wherever there is a crowd, had collected together sufficient numbers to fill it. The tops of the colonnades all round, were, however thronged with spectators; and it was a curious sight to see such a mixture of all ranks and nations,—from the coronetted heads of kings, to the poor cripple who crawled along the pavement,—assembled together to await the blessing of an old man, their fellow-mortal, now tottering on the brink of the grave. Not the least picturesque figures among the throng, were the Contadini, who, in every variety of curious costume, had flocked in from their distant mountain villages, to receive the blessing of the holy father, and whose bright and eager countenances, shaded by their long dark hair, were turned to the balcony where the pope was to appear. At length the two white ostrich feather fans, the forerunners of his approach, were seen, and he was borne forward on his throne above the shoulders of the cardinals and bishops, who filled the balcony. After an audible prayer, he arose, and elevating his hands to heaven, invoked a solemn benediction upon the assembled multitude, and all the people committed to his charge. Every head was uncovered, the soldiers, and many of the spectators, sunk on their knees on the pavement to receive the blessing. That blessing was given with impressive solemnity, but with little gesture and parade. Immediately the thundering of cannon from the castle of St. Angelo, and the peal of bells from St. Peter’s, proclaimed the joyful tidings to the skies. The pope was borne out, and the people rose from their knees; but at least one half of them had never knelt at all, which greatly diminished the impressive effect of the whole. I forgot to say, that, after the benediction, several papers were thrown down by one of the cardinals, which contained, I understand, the indulgence granted to the different churches, and a most pious scuffle ensued among the people to catch them. The pope’s benediction this day, the Italians say, extends all over the world, but on Thursday, it only goes to the gates of Rome. On Thursday too, previous to the benediction, one of the cardinals curses all Jews, Turks, and heretics, ‘by bell, book, and candle.’ The little bell is rung, the curse is sung from the book, and the lighted taper thrown down amongst the people. The pope’s benediction immediately follows upon all true believers. At Ave Maria we took our station on the right of the farther extremity of the piazza of St. Peter’s, so as to lose the deformity of the dark dingy Vatican Palace. The gathering shades of night, rendered the illumination every moment more brilliant.
“The whole of this immense church,—its columns, capitals, cornices, and pediments,—the beautiful swell of the lofty dome, towering into heaven, the ribs converging into one point at top, surmounted by the lantern of the church, and crowned by the cross,—all were designed in lines of fire; and the vast sweep of the circling colonnades, in every rib, line, mould, cornice, and column, were resplendent in the same beautiful light.