A Year in Europe

by Walter W. Moore

A Dazzling Scene.

But not all the splendors of the building, nor all the fascination of its "miracles" and legends, nor all the spell of its other relics, can equal the interest attaching to the "Santa Culla," the holy cradle. On the afternoon of Christmas Day, we walked through the wet streets to the front of the church, pushed back the heavy, dirty screen of padded canvas, such as hangs at the door of every great church in Italy, however fine, and, stepping within, found ourselves in the midst of a scene of the most dazzling splendor. The building was brilliantly illuminated with hundreds of electric lights and huge candles, which were sharply reflected by the glistening marbles on every hand; the air was heavy with clouds of incense, through the blue smoke of which the lofty ceiling looked higher than ever, and the organ and choir were pouring forth the richest music, while a dense crowd of people, many thousands, all standing, watched with eager interest a small, crate-like object, made of slats of dark wood, which rested on the high altar, enclosed in a glass case, with a gold baby on top and gold ornaments round about.

The Holy Cradle.

We pushed our way through the crowd, so as to get a satisfactory view of it while the service was in progress—the genuflections, the robing and disrobing of the archbishop, the chanting, and the rest—after which six men, dressed in pure white from head to foot (white gloves included), except for a red circle and cross on the breast, knelt before the cradle, then lifted it from the altar, with its gold and glass setting, and placing it on a kind of litter on their shoulders, under a gilt and white canopy borne by other attendants, marched with it thus, in procession around the church, along with a large crucifix under another canopy, and followed by a long line of cardinals, bishops, priests and acolytes, carrying it back finally to its place in the sacristy, where it will remain till next Christmas Day.

The Christ of Rome a Babe or a Corpse.

We squeezed our way through the great crowd at the door, and walked back to our hotel, wondering to what extent the usual Roman Catholic conception of Christ had deprived that organization of real spiritual energy; for, almost invariably, Roman Catholic art represents him either as a dead Christ on the cross, or a babe in his mother's arms, and hardly ever as the risen and glorified Lord, the Conqueror of death, the Leader of his people, to whom all power is given in heaven and on earth—the more usual Protestant conception. And we asked ourselves whether this difference did not help to explain the greater hopefulness, vigor and growth of Protestant Christianity in these strenuous latter days.

The Little Doll that Owns a Large Carriage.

But we were soon to learn that the Roman Catholics did not think of the infant Christ as lacking in power of a certain sort; on the contrary they ascribe miraculous agency even to an image of the divine babe. On the afternoon of December 29th, as two of our party were returning to our hotel, they passed at the foot of the Capitoline Hill a carriage, out of the window of which hung a ribbon or sash of cloth of gold, and they were not a little astonished to observe that, as this carriage rolled along, people knelt reverently before it on the street. Inside they saw two bareheaded men holding a child on a pillow with a wealth of lace about it. They thought perhaps it was the royal carriage with the baby princess, but they could not imagine why men should be nursing the baby, as that is usually the employment of women, nor why the people should kneel so reverently before the young princess, a thing which they never did even for the king himself. The fact is that, as they learned on the following afternoon when visiting the Church of Ara Coeli, on the Capitoline Hill, the carriage in question belonged to a far more important personage in Rome than any princess, though that personage was not even a living baby, but only a doll. It was the coach of the famous Bambino—Il Santissimo Bambino—which with its dress of gold and silver tissue and its magnificent diamonds, emeralds and rubies, is the chief attraction of this church.