Apollinaris, a disciple of St.Peter, for its bishop.There some of the later Roman emperors fixed their residences, and there they repose.In and about it revolved the adventurous life of Galla Placidia, a woman of considerable talent and no principle, the daughter of Theodosius (the great Theodosius, who subdued the Arian heresy, the first emperor baptized in the true faith of the Trinity, the last who had a spark of genius), the sister of one emperor, and the mother of another,--twice a slave, once a queen, and once an empress; and she, too, rests there in the great mausoleum builded for her.There, also, lies Dante, in his tomb "by the upbraiding shore;"rejected once of ungrateful Florence, and forever after passionately longed for.There, in one of the earliest Christian churches in existence, are the fine mosaics of the Emperor Justinian and Theodora, the handsome courtesan whom he raised to the dignity and luxury of an empress on his throne in Constantinople.There is the famous forest of pines, stretching--unbroken twenty miles down the coast to Rimini, in whose cool and breezy glades Dante and Boccaccio walked and meditated, which Dryden has commemorated, and Byron has invested with the fascination of his genius; and under the whispering boughs of which moved the glittering cavalcade which fetched the bride to Rimini,--the fair Francesca, whose sinful confession Dante heard in hell.
We went down to Ravenna from Bologna one afternoon, through a country level and rich, riding along toward hazy evening, the land getting flatter as we proceeded (you know, there is a difference between level and flat), through interminable mulberry-trees and vines, and fields with the tender green of spring, with church spires in the rosy horizon; on till the meadows became marshes, in which millions of frogs sang the overture of the opening year.Our arrival, I have reason to believe, was an event in the old town.We had a crowd of moldy loafers to witness it at the station, not one of whom had ambition enough to work to earn a sou by lifting our traveling-bags.
We had our hotel to ourselves, and wished that anybody else had it.
The rival house was quite aware of our advent, and watched us with jealous eyes; and we, in turn, looked wistfully at it, for our own food was so scarce that, as an old traveler says, we feared that we shouldn't have enough, until we saw it on the table, when its quality made it appear too much.The next morning, when I sallied out to hire a conveyance, I was an object of interest to the entire population, who seemed to think it very odd that any one should walk about and explore the quiet streets.If I were to describe Ravenna, I should say that it is as flat as Holland and as lively as New London.There are broad streets, with high houses, that once were handsome, palaces that were once the abode of luxury, gardens that still bloom, and churches by the score.It is an open gate through which one walks unchallenged into the past, with little to break the association with the early Christian ages, their monuments undimmed by time, untouched by restoration and innovation, the whole struck with ecclesiastical death.With all that we saw that day,--churches, basilicas, mosaics, statues, mausoleums,--I will not burden these pages; but I will set down is enough to give you the local color, and to recall some of the most interesting passages in Christian history in this out-of-the-way city on the Adriatic.
Our first pilgrimage was to the Church of St.Apollinare Nuova; but why it is called new I do not know, as Theodoric built it for an Arian cathedral in about the year 500.It is a noble interior, having twenty-four marble columns of gray Cippolino, brought from Constantinople, with composite capitals, on each of which is an impost with Latin crosses sculptured on it.These columns support round arches, which divide the nave from the aisles, and on the whole length of the wall of the nave so supported are superb mosaics, full-length figures, in colors as fresh as if done yesterday, though they were executed thirteen hundred years ago.The mosaic on the left side--which is, perhaps, the finest one of the period in existence--is interesting on another account.It represents the city of Classis, with sea and ships, and a long procession of twenty-two virgins presenting offerings to the Virgin and Child, seated on a throne.The Virgin is surrounded by angels, and has a glory round her head, which shows that homage is being paid to her.It has been supposed, from the early monuments of Christian art, that the worship of the Virgin is of comparatively recent origin; but this mosaic would go to show that Mariolatry was established before the end of the sixth century.Near this church is part of the front of the palace of Theodoric, in which the Exarchs and Lombard kings subsequently resided.Its treasures and marbles Charlemagne carried off to Germany.
DOWN TO THE PINETA
We drove three miles beyond the city, to the Church of St.Apollinare in Classe, a lonely edifice in a waste of marsh, a grand old basilica, a purer specimen of Christian art than Rome or any other Italian town can boast.Just outside the city gate stands a Greek cross on a small fluted column, which marks the site of the once magnificent Basilica of St.Laurentius, which was demolished in the sixteenth century, its stone built into a new church in town, and its rich marbles carried to all-absorbing Rome.It was the last relic of the old port of Caesarea, famous since the time of Augustus.Amarble column on a green meadow is all that remains of a once prosperous city.Our road lay through the marshy plain, across an elevated bridge over the sluggish united stream of the Ronco and Montone, from which there is a wide view, including the Pineta (or Pine Forest), the Church of St.Apollinare in the midst of rice-fields and marshes, and on a clear day the Alps and Apennines.
