In one compartment of the tribune is the figure of the Emperor Justinian, holding a vase with consecrated offerings, and surrounded by courtiers and soldiers.Opposite is the figure of the Empress Theodora, holding a similar vase, and attended by ladies of her court.There is a refinement and an elegance about the empress, a grace and sweet dignity, that is fascinating.This is royalty,--stately and cold perhaps: even the mouth may be a little cruel, Ibegin to perceive, as I think of her; but she wears the purple by divine right.I have not seen on any walls any figure walking out of history so captivating as this lady, who would seem to have been worthy of apotheosis in a Christian edifice.Can there be any doubt that this lovely woman was orthodox? She, also, has a story, which you doubtless have been recalling as you read.Is it worth while to repeat even its outlines? This charming regal woman was the daughter of the keeper of the bears in the circus at Constantinople; and she early went upon the stage as a pantomimist and buffoon.She was beautiful, with regular features, a little pale, but with a tinge of natural color, vivacious eyes, and an easy motion that displayed to advantage the graces of her small but elegant figure.I can see all that in the mosaic.But she sold her charms to whoever cared to buy them in Constantinople; she led a life of dissipation that cannot be even hinted at in these days; she went off to Egypt as the concubine of a general; was deserted, and destitute even to misery in Cairo;wandered about a vagabond in many Eastern cities, and won the reputation everywhere of the most beautiful courtesan of her time;reappeared in Constantinople; and, having, it is said, a vision of her future, suddenly took to a pretension of virtue and plain sewing;contrived to gain the notice of Justinian, to inflame his passions as she did those of all the world besides, to captivate him into first an alliance, and at length a marriage.The emperor raised her to an equal seat with himself on his throne; and she was worshiped as empress in that city where she had been admired as harlot.And on the throne she was a wise woman, courageous and chaste; and had her palaces on the Bosphorus; and took good care of her beauty, and indulged in the pleasures of a good table; had ministers who kissed her feet; a crowd of women and eunuchs in her secret chambers, whose passions she indulged; was avaricious and sometimes cruel; and founded a convent for the irreclaimably bad of her own ***, some of whom liked it, and some of whom threw themselves into the sea in despair; and when she died was an irreparable loss to her emperor.
So that it seems to me it is a pity that the historian should say that she was devout, but a little heretic.
A HIGH DAY IN ROME
PALM SUNDAY IN ST.PETER'S
The splendid and tiresome ceremonies of Holy Week set in; also the rain, which held up for two days.Rome without the sun, and with rain and the bone-penetrating damp cold of the season, is a wretched place.Squalor and ruins and cheap splendor need the sun; the galleries need it; the black old masters in the dark corners of the gaudy churches need it; I think scarcely anything of a cardinal's big, blazing footman, unless the sun shines on him, and radiates from his broad back and his splendid calves; the models, who get up in theatrical costumes, and get put into pictures, and pass the world over for Roman peasants (and beautiful many of them are), can't sit on the Spanish Stairs in indolent pose when it rains; the streets are slimy and horrible; the carriages try to run over you, and stand a very good chance of succeeding, where there are no sidewalks, and you are limping along on the slippery round cobble-stones; you can't get into the country, which is the best part of Rome: but when the sun shines all this is changed; the dear old dirty town exercises, its fascinations on you then, and you speedily forget your recent misery.
Holy Week is a vexation to most people.All the world crowds here to see its exhibitions and theatrical shows, and works hard to catch a glimpse of them, and is tired out, if not disgusted, at the end.The things to see and hear are Palm Sunday in St.Peter's; singing of the Miserere by the pope's choir on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday in the Sistine Chapel; washing of the pilgrims' feet in a chapel of St.
Peter's, and serving the apostles at table by the pope on Thursday, with a papal benediction from the balcony afterwards; Easter Sunday, with the illumination of St.Peter's in the evening; and fireworks (this year in front of St.Peter's in Montorio) Monday evening.
Raised seats are built up about the high altar under the dome in St.
Peter's, which will accommodate a thousand, and perhaps more, ladies;and for these tickets are issued without numbers, and for twice as many as they will seat.Gentlemen who are in evening dress are admitted to stand in the reserved places inside the lines of soldiers.For the Miserere in the Sistine Chapel tickets are also issued.As there is only room for about four hundred ladies, and a thousand and more tickets are given out, you may imagine the scramble.Ladies go for hours before the singing begins, and make a grand rush when the doors are open.I do not know any sight so unseemly and cruel as a crowd of women intent on getting in to such a ceremony: they are perfectly rude and unmerciful to each other.They push and trample one another under foot; veils and dresses are torn;ladies faint away in the scrimmage, and only the strongest and most unscrupulous get in.I have heard some say, who have been in the pellmell, that, not content with elbowing and pushing and pounding, some women even stick pins into those who are in the way.I hope this latter is not true; but it is certain that the conduct of most of the women is brutal.A weak or modest or timid woman stands no more chance than she would in a herd of infuriated Campagna cattle.
