 | THE VATICAN. The Italian sketch book |  |
THE VATICAN.
We crossed the Tiber in a broad barge, and during
the few moments which intervened ere our walk
re-commenced, we were naturally led to contrast
the turbid waters and the dim earth around us, with
the same scene, in its transcendent aspect, as existing
in the familiar picture of our fancy. The one was
the plain appearance of neglected and perhaps degenerate
nature; the other impressions derived from
nature's glowing commentator, the poet. Passing
by a retired path through the fields, we soon came
in view of a circular fortress, (the Castle of St. Angelo,)
now chiefly used as a prison, but originally
the tomb of Hadrian. And certainly, when its solid
proportions were decked with the numerous statuary
ornaments which once adorned them, it must have
formed a glorious final resting-place for a Roman.
There is a striking and melancholy inconsistency
observable in this, as in many instances, in the modern
appropriation of ancient monuments. So much
more honourable is it to the general, or at least to
the better sentiment of mankind, to leave unmarred
one of her children exists. There is surely a kind
of sacrilege in disturbing works consecrated to
the dead, for purposes of selfish pride or narrow
utility. The beauty, the interest, the blessed inspiration
which so often hallow these ruins, are thus
invaded, while no commensurate advantage is obtained.
Have not as many smiles of ridicule or
sneers of reproach, as pious feelings, been awakened,
by the view of the apostle's figures surmounting the
triumphal pillars of Aurelius and Trajan? And
who can behold, without regret, the mausoleum of
the mighty dead transformed into a tomb for the
most wretched of the living?
We ascended a long flight of steps, entered a
square and corridor, and were soon in the Museum
of the Vatican. It were vain to endeavour to describe
what an impression of the richness of art is
inspired by the first general inspection of this vast
collection of her redeemed trophies; and far more
to paint the vivid and elevating conception of her
power which dawns, brightens, and finally glows in
the bosom, as face after face of thrilling interest,
figure after figure of embodied nature, and gem after
gem of exquisite material or workmanship attracts
the admiring eye; all unanimated by one spiritual
principal, and yet so legitimately the offspring of
the highest, and so perfectly significant, as to awaken
wonder, enkindle delight, and finally win love. We
devoted a season to the inspection and admiration of
the Camere of Raphael. Constantine's victory is,
indeed, a splendid battle-piece. But of all the
figures, none struck me as grander than the group
representing the miraculous defeat of the ravager of
the temple, struck down by a cavalier, and two angels,
at the prayer of the priest. Most of the countenances
here depicted are separate and noble studies.
All the frescos were partially designed and executed
by Raphael. They present a worthy but melancholy
monument to his genius, impaired as they are
by age, and marred by his untimely death. Yet
artists of the present day are continually studying
these dim, though most admirable remains, and find
in their contemplation the happiest aids and incitements.
Notwithstanding this speaking testimony
to departed excellence, as well as that which beamed
in the admiring looks of the gazers around, there
was something of sadness in the very air of rooms
that bore the name, and shone with the embodied
talent of the beloved and early dead, which forced
itself irresistibly upon the mind, and tinged with
mournfulness the gratified thoughts.
But it is when we stand for the first time in the
presence of that being, if aught destitute of sensation
deserve the name, it is when the eye first rests, and
the heart first fastens with instinctive eagerness upon
the Apollo Belvidere, that we feel the triumph of
human art. And there springs up a rich sentiment
of satisfaction, not only that the poetical in native
are conscious of unwonted gratification, but because
we rejoice in the spiritual nobility of our common
nature; we glory in the thought that the senseless
marble radiates the beautiful and deep expressiveness
of intellectual life at the call of human genius,
and we are soothed by the testimony thus afforded
to the immortality of what we most love in ourselves
and kind, for we feel that such followers of nature
are allied to its author, and may humbly, but legitimately
aspire to yet higher teachings than are
evolved from the physical universe.
| THE VATICAN. The Italian sketch book | |