Roman Mosaics | Page 8

of the Church. The decadence of
art has kept pace with the growing corruption of religion. Descending
from the purer spiritual conceptions of former times to grosser and
more superstitious ideas, it has given outward expression to these in
baser forms. Even St. Peter's, though extravagantly praised by so many
visitors, is but the visible embodiment of the vulgar splendour of later
Catholicism. The pillar of the Immaculate Conception is not only a
monument of religious superstition, but also of what must strike every
thoughtful observer in Rome--the decadence of art in modern times as
compared with the glorious earlier days of a purer Church. And the art
of the sculptor is only in keeping with that of the painter in connection
with this dogma. For the large frescoes of Podesti, which occupy a
conspicuous place in the great hall of the Vatican, preceding the stanze
of Raphael, and depict the persons and incidents connected with the

proclamation of the Immaculate Conception, are worthless as works of
art, and present a melancholy contrast to the works of the immortal
genius in the adjoining halls, who wrought under the inspiration of a
nobler faith. No Titian or Raphael, no Michael Angelo or Bramante,
was found in the degenerate days of Pio Nono to immortalise what he
called the greatest event of his reign.
The square in which the pillar of the Immaculate Conception is situated,
along with the surrounding streets, is called the "Ghetto Inglese," for
here the English and Americans most do congregate. At almost every
step one encounters the fresh open countenances, blue eyes, and fair
hair, which one is accustomed to associate with darker skies and ruder
buildings. The Piazza di Spagna, so called from the palace of the
Spanish ambassador situated in a corner of it, is one of the finest
squares of Rome, being paved throughout, and surrounded on every
side by lofty and picturesque buildings. In the centre is a quaint old
boat-shaped fountain, called Fontana della Barcaccia, its brown
slippery sides being tinted with mosses, confervæ, and other growths of
wet surfaces. It was designed by Bernini to commemorate the stranding
of a boat on the spot after the retiring of the great flood of 1598, which
overwhelmed most of Rome. On the site of the Piazza di Spagna, there
was, in the days of Domitian, an artificial lake, on which naval battles
took place, witnessed by immense audiences seated in a kind of
amphitheatre on the borders of the lake. As an object of taste the
boat-shaped fountain is condemned by many; but Bernini adopted the
form not only because of the associations of the spot, but also because
the head of water was not sufficient for a jet of any considerable height.
Quaint, or even ugly, as some might call it, it was to me an object of
peculiar interest. Its water is of the purest and sweetest; and in the
stillness of the hot noon its bright sparkle and dreamy murmur were
delightfully refreshing. No city in the world is so abundantly supplied
with water as Rome. You hear the lulling sound and see the bright
gleam of water in almost every square. A river falls in a series of
sparkling cascades from the Fountain of Trevi and the Fontana Paolina
into deep, immense basins; and even into the marble sarcophagi of
ancient kings, with their gracefully sculptured sides, telling some story
of Arcadian times, whose nymphs and naiads are in beautiful harmony

with the rustic murmur of the stream, is falling a gush of living water in
many a palace courtyard. This sound of many waters is, indeed, a
luxury in such a climate; and some of the pleasantest moments are
those in which the visitor lingers beside one of the fountains, when the
blaze and bustle of the day are over, and the balmy softness of the
evening produce a dreamy mood, to which the music of the waters is
irresistibly fascinating.
The most distinguishing feature of the Piazza di Spagna is the wide
staircase which leads up from one side of it to the church of the Trinita
dei Monti, with its twin towers, through whose belfry arches the blue
sky appears. This lofty staircase comprises one hundred and thirty steps,
and the ascent is so gradual, and the landing-places so broad and
commodious, that it is quite a pleasure, even for the most infirm
persons, to mount it. The travertine of which it is composed is polished
into the smoothness of marble by constant use. It is the favourite haunt
of all the painters' models; and there one meets at certain hours of the
day with beautiful peasant girls from the neighbouring mountains, in
the picturesque costumes of the contadini, and old men with grizzled
beards and locks, dressed