I had a great desire to ascend to the summit of St. Peter's, notwithstanding a prohibition had lately been issued against persons going up to the cross.
This was on account, it was said, of a young English midshipman having ascended late one evening and attaching privately to it an union Jack, which he had carried in his pocket, so that next morning the British flag was seen flying over the once mighty city of Rome. I should rather imagine, however, that the prohibition arose from fear of accidents.
I determined to proceed into the ball, which everyone is permitted to do.
On leaving the church we ascended a broad staircase formed of stone steps so easy of ascent that you might have rode up or down with perfect safety. They led to the upper part of the body of the church, whence its dome springs and where you are astonished by the vast extent of the roof, with ranges of small houses and workshops upon it. Stone seats are also placed for the accommodation of visitors, from whence may be seen the cupolas of the side chapels, which are invisible from below.
From this point we ascended the wonderful and stupendous dome by a succession of staircases, each terminating in a gallery from whence a noble view of the city and surrounding country is to be seen.
The staircases gradually decreased as we ascended, until, at length, they became so contracted as scarcely to be capable of admitting a man of more than ordinary size, and who, if he did succeed in reaching the copper ladder which leads immediately into the ball, must have then disencumbered himself of his dress to have made good his entry into that place.
On arriving within the ball we found it capacious enough to contain several persons and were told that no less than from sixteen to twenty had been within it at the same time. But they must have been of the same quality with Pharaoh's lean kind, or, as I have heard Scotchmen express it, “a heap of fellows."
I now felt a stronger desire than ever to mount upon the cross, and the more the difficulty and danger were represented to me, the more ardent were my wishes to accomplish it.
extract from The Narrative of a Journey through France, &c. (London, 1822) by James Holman FRS, pp.170-172, edited by Joe Rizzo Naudi.