LITMIR.BIZ

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que d'ailleurs cette fête était curieuse.'

      "'Ce n'est pas une fête,' dit Guy gravement, 'c'est un simple acte de dévotion qui se répète tous les Vendredis.'

      "'En vérité,' dit Eveline, 'et pourquoi le Vendredi?'

      "'Parceque c'est le jour où Christ est mort pour nous; par cette raison, vous ne l'ignorez pas, ce jour est demeuré consacré dans le monde chrétien … dans le monde catholique du moins,' repondit Guy.

      "'Mais à quel propos choisit-on le Colisée pour s'y réunir ce jour là?'

      "'Parceque le Colisée a été baigné du sang des martyrs et que leur souvenir se mêle là plus qu'ailleurs à celui de la croix pour laquelle ils l'ont versé.'"—Mrs. Augustus Craven in Anne Severin.

      The pulpit of the Coliseum was used for the stormy sermons of Gavazzi, who called the people to arms from thence in the revolution of March, 1848.

      It is well worth while to ascend to the upper galleries (a man who lives near the entrance from the Forum will open a locked door for the purpose), as then only is it possible to realize the vast size and grandeur of the building.

      "May, 1827.—Lastly, we ascended to the top of the Coliseum, Bunsen leaving us at the door, to go home; and I seated myself just above the main entrance, towards the Forum, and there took my farewell look over Rome. It was a delicious evening, and everything was looking to advantage:—the huge Coliseum just under me, the tufts of ilex and aliternus and other shrubs that fringe the walls everywhere in the lower part, while the outside wall, with its top of gigantic stones, lifts itself high above, and seems like a mountain barrier of bare rock, enclosing a green and varied valley. I sat and gazed upon the scene with an intense and mingled feeling. The world could show nothing grander; it was one which for years I had longed to see, and I was now looking at it for the last time. When I last see the dome of St. Peter's I shall seem to be parting from more than a mere town full of curiosities, where the eye has been amused, and the intellect gratified. I never thought to have felt thus tenderly towards Rome; but the inexplicable solemnity and beauty of her ruined condition has quite bewitched me, and to the latest hour of my life I shall remember the Forum, the surrounding hills, and the magnificent Coliseum."—Arnold's Letters.

      The upper arches frame a series of views of the Aventine, the Capitoline, the Cœlian, and the Campagna, like a succession of beautiful pictures.

      Those who visit the Coliseum by moonlight will realize the truthfulness of the following descriptions:—

      "I do remember me, that in my youth,

       When I was wandering—upon such a night,

       I stood within the Coliseum's wall,

       Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome;

       The trees which grew along the broken arches

       Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars

       Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar

       The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber; and

       More near from out the Cæsar's palace came

       The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly,

       Of distant sentinels the fitful song

       Began and died upon the gentle wind:—

       Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach

       Appeared to skirt the horizon, yet they stood

       Within a bowshot where the Cæsars dwelt,

       And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst

       A grove which springs through levell'd battlements,

       And twines its roots with the imperial hearths;

       Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth;—

       But the gladiator's bloody circus stands,

       A noble wreck in ruinous perfection!

       While Cæsar's chambers, and the Augustan halls,

       Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.

       And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon

       All this, and cast a wide and tender light,

       Which softened down the hoar austerity

       Of rugged desolation, and fill'd up,

       As 't were anew, the gaps of centuries;

       Leaving that beautiful which still was so,

       And making that which was not, till the place

       Became religion, and the heart ran o'er

       With silent worship of the great of old:—

       The dead but scepter'd sovereigns, who still rule

       Our spirits from their urns."

       Manfred.

      "Arches on arches! as it were that Rome,

       Collecting the chief trophies of her line,

       Would build up all her triumphs in one dome,

       Her Coliseum stands; the moonbeams shine

       As 't were its natural torches, for divine

       Should be the light which streams here, to illume

       The long-explored but still exhaustless mine

       Of contemplation; and the azure gloom

       Of an Italian night, where the deep skies assume

      "Hues which have words, and speak to ye of heaven,

       Floats o'er this vast and wondrous monument,

       And shadows forth its glory. There is given

       Under the things of earth, which Time hath bent,

       A spirit's feeling, and where he hath leant

       His hand, but broke his scythe, there is a power

       And magic in the ruined battlement, For which the palace of the present hour Must yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its dower." Childe Harold.

      "No one can form any idea of full moonlight in Rome who has not seen it. Every individual object is swallowed in the huge masses of light and shadow, and only the marked and principal outlines remain visible. Three days ago (Feb. 2, 1787) we made good use of a light and most beautiful night. The Coliseum presents a vision of beauty. It is closed at night; a hermit lives inside in a little church, and beggars roost amid the ruined vaults. They had lighted a fire on the bare ground, and a gentle breeze drove the smoke across the arena. The lower portion of the ruin was lost, while the enormous walls above stood forth into the darkness. We stood at the gates and gazed upon this phenomenon. The moon shone high and bright. Gradually the smoke moved through the chinks and apertures in the walls, and the moon illuminated it like a mist. It was an exquisite moment!"—Goethe.

      It is believed that the building of the Coliseum remained entire until the eighth century, and that its ruin dates from the invasion of Robert Guiscard, who destroyed it to prevent its being used as a stronghold by the Romans. During the middle ages it served as a fortress, and became the castle of the great family of Frangipani, who here gave refuge to Pope Innocent II. (Papareschi) and his family, against the anti-pope Anacletus II., and afterwards in the same way protected Innocent III. (Conti) and his brothers against the anti-pope Paschal II. Constantly at war with the Frangipani were the Annibaldi, who possessed a neighbouring fortress, and obtained from Gregory IX. a grant of half the Coliseum, which was rescinded by Innocent IV. During the absence of the popes at Avignon the Annibaldi got possession of the whole of the Coliseum, but it was taken away again in 1312, and placed in the hands of the municipality, after which it was used for bull-fights, in which (as described by Monaldeschi) nobles of high rank took part and lost their lives. In 1381 the senate made over part of the ruins to the Canons of the Lateran, to be used as a hospital, and their occupation is still commemorated by the arms of the Chapter (our Saviour's head between two candelabra) sculptured in various parts of the building. From the fourteenth century

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