He is then set down upon a magnificent stool, in front of the altar, on which he kneels, and his crown being taken off, and the cardinals taking off their little red caps, and all kneeling in a row, he assumes the attitude of praying. Having remained a few minutes, he is taken to a chair prepared for him, to the right of the throne. There he reads from a book, and is again taken to the altar, on which his tiara has been placed; and, bareheaded, he repeats—or as, by courtesy, it is called, sings—a small part of the service, throws up clouds of incense, and is removed to the crimson-canopied throne. High mass is celebrated by a cardinal and two bishops, at which he assists. During the service, the Italians seem to consider it quite as much of a pageant as foreigners, but neither a new nor an interesting one; they either walk about, and talk, or interchange pinches of snuff with each other, exactly as if it had been a place of amusement, until the tinkling of a little bell, which announces the elevation of the host, changes the scene. Every knee is now bent to the earth, and every voice hushed; the reversed arms of the military ring with an instantaneous clang on the marble pavement, as they sink on the ground, and all is still as death. This does not last above two minutes till the host is swallowed. Thus begins and ends the only part that bears even the smallest outward aspect of religion. The military now pour out of St. Peter’s, and form an extensive ring before its spacious front, behind which the horse guards are drawn up, and an immense number of carriages, filled with splendidly dressed women, and thousands of people on foot, are assembled. Yet the multitude almost shrunk into insignificance in the vast area of the piazza; and neither piety nor curiosity collect sufficient numbers to fill it. The tops of the colonnades all round, however, are thronged with spectators; and it is a curious sight to see a mixture of all ranks and nations,—from the coronetted heads of kings, to the poor cripple who crawls along the pavement,—assembled together to await the blessing of their fellow mortal. Not the least picturesque figures among the throng are the contadini, who, in every variety of curious costume, flock 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, turn to the balcony where the pope is to appear. At length the two white ostrich-feather fans, the forerunners of his approach, are seen; and he is borne forward on his throne, above the shoulders of the cardinals and bishops, who fill the balcony. After an audible prayer he arises, and, elevating his hands to heaven, invokes a solemn benediction upon the multitude, and the people committed to his charge. Every head uncovers; the soldiers, and many of the spectators, kneel on the pavement to receive the blessing. It is given with impressive solemnity, but with little of gesture or parade. Immediately the thundering of cannon from the castle of St. Angelo, and the peal of bells from St. Peter’s, proclaim the joyful tidings to the skies. The pope is borne out, and the people rise from their knees.[111]
Greek Easter.
The “Picture of Greece in 1825,” by Messrs. Emerson and Humphreys, and count Pecchio, contains some particulars of the celebration of the Greek church. They say,
“To-day being the festival of Easter, Napoli presented a novel appearance, viz. a clean one. This feast as the most important in the Greek church, is observed with particular rejoicings and respect. Lent having ceased, the ovens were crowded with the preparations for banquetting. Yesterday every street was reeking with the blood of lambs and goats; and to-day, every house was fragrant with odours of pies and baked meats; all the inhabitants, in festival array, were hurrying along to pay their visits and receive their congratulations; every one, as he met his friend, saluted him with a kiss on each side of his face, and repeated the words Χριστος ανεστη—‘Christ is risen.’ The day was spent in rejoicings in every quarter; the guns were fired from the batteries, and every moment the echoes of the Palamede were replying to the incessant reports of the pistols and trophaics of the soldiery. On these occasions, the Greeks (whether from laziness to extract the ball, or for the purpose of making a louder report, I know not,) always discharge their arms with a bullet: frequent accidents are the consequence. To-day, one poor fellow was shot dead in his window, and a second severely wounded by one of these random shots. In the evening, a grand ceremony took place in the square: all the members of the government, after attending divine service in the church of St. George, met opposite the residence of the executive body; the legislative being the most numerous, took their places in a line, and the executive passing along them from right to left, kissing commenced with great vigour, the latter body embracing the former with all fervour and affection. Amongst such an intriguing factious senate as the Greek legislation, it requires little calculation to discern that the greater portion of these salutations were Judas’s kisses.”
Turkish Easter.
The journals of 1824, contain the following extract, from a private letter, dated Tangiers, in Africa:—“The day after my arrival I was present at the celebration of this country’s Easter, a religious ceremony which greatly resembles our Easter, and is so called.—At break of day, twenty salutes of cannon announce the festival. At this signal, the pacha proceeds to a great plain ranged outside the city, where he is received by all the troops of the garrison, ranged under arms. An unfortunate ram is laid upon an altar there; the pacha approaches it, and plunges a knife into its throat; a Jew then seizes the bleeding animal, hoists it on his shoulders, and runs off with it to the mosque. If the animal still lives at the moment he arrives there, which very seldom fails to occur, the year will be a good one: if the contrary happens, great lamentations and groanings are made—the year will be bad. As soon as the victim is dead, a great carnage begins. Every Moor sacrifices, according to his means, one or more sheep, and this in the open street; the blood streams down on all sides; men and women imbrue themselves in it as much as they please; they cry, sing, dance, and endeavour to manifest the joy that animates them in a thousand forms. As soon as night appears, the town resounds with discharges of musketry, and it is not till the end of eight days that this charming festival concludes.”