 | CHURCH CEREMONIES. The Italian sketch book |  |
CHURCH CEREMONIES.
A bright Sabbath morning found me seated in the
little chapel of a monastery, the dark and riveted
walls of which denoted its antiquity. A few individuals
were seated upon the wicker chairs around,
and between the lattice-work of the partition, several
nuns might be seen quietly engaged in their
devotions. I had come thither to witness the ceremony
by which two females entered upon their
noviciate. When the chapels on either side of the
lattice were well-nigh filled, and a priest, robed for
the occasion, had placed himself near the grate, an
elderly preacher approached, and seating himself,
addressed impassionately the kneeling females. His
discourse, couched in the symphonic accents of the
Italian, and delivered with singular energy, was not
without impressiveness. He painted in glowing
colours the temptations to which humanity is exposed
upon the arena of the world, the moral safety
and satisfaction of religious seclusion, the beauty
and acceptableness in the sight of Heaven of the
consecration of the young and the warm-hearted—
even such as they who knelt silently by—to the
his assistants then chanted from the ritual for some
time, the silvery voices of the nuns blending melodiously
with the choruses. At length the clear yet
hesitating voices of the noviciates might be heard as
they read their vows. Their interesting appearance
and the associations of the moment were not inoperative
upon those of us to whom the scene was new;
there was a kind of sad and thrilling poetry in their
very tones.
The first Sunday in Advent is one of those days
when services are attended by the Pope in the Sistine
Chapel. I willingly embraced the opportunity
to obtain a view of his Holiness. The comparatively
small room, one of the halls of the Vatican,
was surrounded at an early hour by a large concourse
of strangers. We passed through the whole
band of Swiss guards, drawn up in the colonnade.
These, although somewhat picturesque in their appearance,
always reminded me of the soldiers of the
opera-house or the stage, as the ruff they wear, and
something in their tout ensemble, seems more scenic
than actual—more designed for effect than action.
Upon entering, I looked intently upon a work of
art of which I had heard much—said to be, in fact,
the most meritorious and wonderful of paintings—
the Last Judgment, by Michael Angelo, covering
the entire back wall of the chapel. With all my
gazing, however, I could but descry numerous and
apparently most muscular figures, in various positions,
Subsequent inquiry and reading, in some degree, explains
the disappointment caused by a first view of
this renowned production. Its chief merit consists
in the bold yet natural development of the forms,
and the mathematical precision of the execution. It
is, in a word, a grand study for the artist, and would
more immediately affect the merely curious, had
not time defaced, and did not a bad position obscure
its merits. The living pageant, however, soon
attracted attention. Many cardinals, bishops, and
other dignitaries, with their purple robes and ermine
decorations, occupied the innermost division. But
the Pope entering, riveted the eyes of most of the
audience. Nothing remarkable in his physiognomy
strikes the beholder, except an unusually prominent
nose. There was much apparent seriousness and
devotion evinced by this personage, and, indeed, by
the whole assembly; the chanting was solemn,
though not remarkable, and to one devotionally
disposed, the whole service was by no means void
of grateful influence.
| CHURCH CEREMONIES. The Italian sketch book | |