universe by the promulgation of the sacred volume, and of that true light that enlighteneth every man that cometh into this world*. The latter had been expressly commanded in the Old Law, and was considered in the New as a fit accompaniment to be offered with the prayers of the saints upon the golden altar before the throne. The most solemn part of the service is recited in a low tone, audible only to those who surround the altar, a circumstance which surprizes protestants, and has frequently been censured with severity. However, this custom is almost coeval with the liturgy itself, and seems to have commenced almost immediately after the apostolic age. It was in all probability a measure of precaution. One of the most sacred rites of christianity, that of Baptism, had been exposed to public ridicule on the stage, and to prevent the recurrence of a similar profanation, in a more awful institution, it was thought prudent to confine the knowledge of the Eucharistic prayer to the clerical order. When a custom is once established reasons are never wanting to justify its continuance, and the secrecy which the fear of profanation rendered necessary in times of persecution was continued from motives of respect in the days of Christian prosperity. Every person acquainted with ecclesiastical antiquity knows with what extreme delicacy the Fathers of the fourth century speak of the mysteries, and of course will not wonder that the Roman church, which glories in its adherence to antiquity, should continue the same practice. Besides, it is considered as more conformable to the nature of the mysterious institution, and more favorable to the indulgence of devotion, both in the priest and congregation, than the most emphatic and solemn recitation. Impressed with this idea, the Greeks have from time immemorial drawn curtains, and in later ages raised a screen before the altar, that conceals the priest from public view, and environs him as the High Priest of old when he entered the Holy of Holies, with the awful solitude of the sanctuary*. To conclude-The rites which I have described are pure and holy; they inspire sentiments of order and decency; they detach the mind from the ordinary pursuits of life, and by raising it above its ordinary level, qualify it to appear with due humility and recollection before the Throne of the Lamb,-the Mercy Seat of Jehovah! * The laity at present lose nothing by this silence, as they have the form of consecration, and indeed the whole service translated in their prayer-books. CHAP. XVII. VILLAS--THE TIBER---THE MAUSOLEUM OF CECILIA METELLA--EGERIAN GROTTO AND FOUNTAIN----CHURCH OF ST. CONSTANTIA---MONS SACER. THE various villas that encircle Modern Rome form one of its characteristic beauties, as well as one of the principal features of its resemblance to the ancient city, which seems to have been environed with gardens, and almost studded with groves and shady retirements. Thus, Julius Cæsar had a spacious garden on the banks of the Tiber, at the foot of the Janiculum, which he bequeathed to the Roman people: Mæcenas enclosed and converted into a pleasure ground, a considerable part of the Esquiline Hill, which before had been the common burial place of the lower classes, and the resort of thieves and vagabonds; an alteration which Horace mentions with complacency in his eighth satire. To these we may add the Horti Luculliani and Serviliani, incidentally mentioned by Tacitus, and particularly the celebrated retreat of the historian Sallust, adorned with so much magnificence and luxury that it became the favorite resort of successive Emperors. This garden occupied, it seems, the extre mities of the Viminal and Pincian Hill, and enclosed in its vast precincts, a palace, a temple and a circus. The palace was consumed by fire on the fatal night when Alaric entered the city; the temple of singular beauty, sacred to Venus (Veneri Felici Sacrum) was discovered about the middle of the sixteenth century, and destroyed for the sale of the materials: of the circus little remains but masses of walls that merely indicate its site, while statues and marbles found occasionally continue to furnish proofs of its magnificence. The gardens of Lucullus are supposed to have bordered on those of Sallust, and with several other delicious retreats, which covered the summit and brow of the Pincian Mount, gave it its ancient appellation of Collis Hortulorum. To the intermingled graces of town and country that adorned these fashionable mansions of the rich and luxurious Romans, Horace alludes when, addressing Fuseus Aristus, he says, Nempe inter varias nutritur sylva columnas— as, in the verse immediately following, Laudaturque domus longos quæ prospicit agros. Hor. Ep. 1. 10. he evidently hints at the extensive views which might be enjoyed from the lofty apartments, erected expressly for the purpose of commanding a wide range of country. The villas of Modern Rome often occupy the same ground, share some portion of the splendor, and enjoy all the picturesque advantages of the gardens of the ancient city. In point of perspective beauty Rome has, indeed, at all times possessed peculiar felicities. It covers a considerable extent of country, encloses several hills within its ramparts, and affords a great va riety of views, sometimes confined to its interior and sometimes extending to the surrounding country and the distant mountains. It is true that the ancient Roman might contemplate from his garden, towering in near or distant perspective, one or more of those stupendous edifices which adorned the city, and attracted the admiration of the universe; but I know not whether in the melancholy spectacle of the same majestic edifices now scattered on the ground overgrown with cypresses, the modern villa does not exhibit a sight more awful and more affecting. If the traveller wishes to be convinced of the truth of this remark, let him from the terrace of the Villa Borghese fix his eyes on the dome of St. Peter's expanded in all its splendor and all its perfection before him, and then let him ascend the Palatine Mount, and from the cypress groves of the Villa Farnesiana look down upon the shattered mass of the Coliseum spread beneath him in broken pomp, half covered with weeds and brambles. VOL. I. O champs de l'Italie, O campagnes de Rome ages Ou dans tout son orgueil git le neant de l'homme! Abbe de Lille, Jardin. Chant. IV. |