The Church of the Jesuits was built from a design of Vignola, and is worthy of his talents. Here the columns are doubled on the piers of the nave, and as in Sant Andrea there are three arches on each side, and then next to the dome, one smaller division without an arch. This interruption of the design disappoints the eye, and it is more objectionable here than in the former instance, because the piers of the centre are of themselves considerably larger than the others, and it is therefore impossible to consider this division for a moment, as a large perforated pier. The side arches do not occupy the height of the order, but leave space for a gallery between them and the architrave. Above the order is a continued but broken pedestal on a high plinth, and a noble, richly ornamented rib; the whole width of the pier seems to form the solid of the vaulting. It is a pity that this fine feature should be interrupted to make room for the painting. The upper windows are badly ornamented, but they are rich, and in this part mere richness is of great value. Wherever the eye fixes, the architecture ought to be pure and correct, but the vaulting is seldom examined in detail, or at least the beauty of detail is there of less importance to the general impression produced by the building, than in parts more subject to inspection; and on the other hand, it is that part where richness of ornament produces the greatest effect in communicating to the building the appearance of magnificence. The chapels of the transept are very splendidly decorated, and on the whole, it is a most noble and magnificent church, and one of those which best satisfies the eye. It neither wants height, nor length, nor breadth; all is as it should be, and the defects are only in the distribution of the smaller parts. The width of the nave between the pilasters in this church, is about 55 feet, in Sant Ignazio, 57; in Sant Andrea, 51. Compare these with our St. Paul’s, which is 41, and you will easily understand that the Roman buildings, wider and shorter, and more richly decorated, must possess a character quite different from any thing to be seen in England. The Church of the Santi Apostoli is a fine edifice of this sort, with some of the chapels of rich and beautiful marbles well disposed, and in other respects highly decorated, and others of striped stucco; a contrast not at all pleasing. The parts in elevation, on the sides of the nave, are well proportioned, but the building does not end well, and is perhaps rather too short; the vaulting springs from a pedestal above the cornice. The lines of the architrave are interrupted to make room for an enormous picture, which represents not the fallen, but the falling angels; and in order to figure them in a more lively manner, the artist has made use of projecting portions of surface brought over the frame of the picture, on which he has painted parts of the figures, as if they were then actually tumbling into the church. It is rather a misfortune, that so bad an idea should be so well executed.
To carry you in detail through all the churches in Rome, would only offer a repetition of the same criticisms, without equal beauties to redeem their defects. Passing over therefore, a number of others of somewhat similar arrangement, and which all follow the disposition of the Latin cross, there are some very beautiful ones, in which that of the Greek cross is observed. The best of these, and the master-piece of Rainaldi, is the church of St. Agnes in the Piazza Navona; and a very delightful little building it is. The four equal arms are all very shallow, occupying four sides of an octagon, and it is an admirable lesson on the advantage of shallow recesses; although the little niches introduced at the extremities of the transept have a bad effect. Such a form might be very well lighted from the dome alone; but in the present instance this is too high, both for internal and external effect. The front is by Borromini, and though not free from his extravagancies, and his idly crooked lines, is the finest thing he has done. He had always some feeling among his wildest dreams, and it is this that at one time made him popular, and his example dangerous; had he not, he would neither have been admired nor imitated. Even in the church of San Carlo alle quattro fontane, where he seems to have given full reins to his imagination, we feel that there is something to be admired, though it is difficult to point out where it is; for on the inside as well as on the out, he has exerted himself to disappoint in every respect, both the eye and the judgment. His followers lost his beauties and preserved only his absurdities, thinking apparently, that the grace which still appeared, was owing to deformity, instead of, as was actually the case, feebly appearing through it.
Bernini has built the Church of Sant Andrea del Noviziato, on the Quirinal, in an elliptical form, to which, I suppose, he was determined by the shape of the ground; and in interrupting the lines of the entablature for the great altar, and making that opening, and that of the doorway, greater than the rest, he was probably guided by the prejudices of his employers. He has shown great judgment in avoiding anything of a transept, which must probably have given rise to another interruption, by making four chapels on each side, instead of an uneven number. The oval dome has something of a crooked appearance, and the details are not good, yet in spite of its defects, it is internally a beautiful little building. Of the outside, I will say nothing, for there is nothing good to be said.
The front of the Church of Santa Maria di Consolazione, is perhaps among the most tolerable of those in Rome, where any considerable enrichment has been attempted; but there are three little churches or chapels in the same neighbourhood, where probably the builders were not rich enough to be absurd. The composition of each presents nearly a square face, ornamented with four Doric pilasters, and crowned with a pediment. The parts are differently disposed in each, but all have a pleasing simplicity of character.
If I mention to you Santa Maria in Campitelli, it is rather because it is praised by others, than in compliance with my own taste. An effect of splendour is obtained by a multiplication of parts, without much dependence on each other. It puzzles rather than pleases.
LETTER XXVIII.
ROME.
Rome, 7th April, 1817.
We have had some rain here lately, and a good deal of snow upon the mountains; for the Apennine summits present a much greater mass of white than they did at the end of January. In the lower country the winter seems to be gone. The Anemones (Anemone hortensis) have been very plentiful and beautiful; they are now almost over, and the orchideæ are beginning to show their flowers. The weather is delightful, the sun, though bright, is not oppressive, and the night wind is no longer cold. The woods of Monte Mario are perfumed with rosemary in full flower; vegetation is everywhere vigorous and beautiful, and all nature feels the genial influence of the season. A first of April at Rome is all you can imagine of a May day in England. But enough of nature; I am about to give an account of art; of pomps, and processions, and ceremonies, where all is artificial. They began the 30th of March, which was Palm Sunday, and I went to the Sistine chapel to see the palm branches distributed. These palm branches look like reeds with the leaves still upon them, all of which, except two or three at the top, are plaited up, so that they are not very unlike slender rods covered with yellow ribbon; they are said however, to be real palm tree leaves. One of these is given to each of the cardinals, together with a branch of olive. When arrived at the Vatican, the doors of the great hall (the Sala regia) were shut, and a considerable number of people were waiting at the head of the stairs. We understood that no general admission would be given till the procession had passed, i. e. the pope and cardinals had entered the chapel. After a little time, the doors were thrown open and we entered the hall, but a circuit of soldiers placed about the door prohibited our immediate entrance into the Sistine Chapel. One by one we slipt through, the intention apparently not being to prevent us entirely from entering, but merely, by retarding our motions, to avoid bustle and confusion. It was however some time before I could work myself up into a good position, and that moment the pope, and all the cardinals were seated. The latter held in their hands the palm branches, and at the feet of each an attendant was seated who held an olive branch. A priest at the altar was saying mass, but the pope seemed quite the object of attention, and almost of adoration. We might almost at times fancy the music repeating, “We worship thee O Lord, the Pope,” so well did the action correspond with such an expression. The ceremonies were not much varied; they consisted principally in alternately getting up and sitting down, while at each change of position the attendants arranged the robes of their superiors. Two of these waited on the pope, and disposed the folds of his garments very carefully every time he moved. Sometimes the cardinals advanced from their seats, and passing through the row of attendants, knelt down to the pope and the altar, laying their palm branches on the ground. During part of the service, the pope wore a mitre, which was put on, and taken off, with great ceremony. On one occasion he rose from his seat, and walked to a cushion placed in front of the high altar, upon a sort of stool. On this he knelt down, and his attendants took off the mitre. The music suddenly ceased, and there was a dead silence, all the cardinals and attendants being at the same time on their knees. The effect of this silent prayer is very impressive. It was a pity the spectators could not kneel too, but it was impossible for want of room. The two attendants of his holiness meanwhile spread his robes carefully over the elbows of the cushion, and disposed his train symmetrically, turning out on each side a quantity of the white satin lining; a sort of parade very injurious to the solemnity of the scene, as it drew down the attention from every sublime sentiment, to a trifling, and even contemptible object. The service in general did not appear very impressive, and there was hardly any music except a monotonous recitative.
On Monday and Tuesday nothing was done. On Wednesday afternoon there was again service in the Sistine chapel. It began about five o’clock, by candle light, for even at noon day candles are used; amongst these was a row of fifteen lights, intended to represent the twelve apostles, and the three Mary’s, and these were extinguished or expired at irregular intervals, to show that they did not all abandon our Saviour at once. After fourteen of these were out, the remaining one, which we were told was to represent the Virgin Mary, was taken down, and all the other lights in the room extinguished, leaving only the faint remains of day (it was then near seven o’clock) and in this state we heard a fine piece of music, the effect of which was perhaps enhanced by the gloom.