there is one of the Incredulity of Thomas, which has always made one of my stopping-places, in taking the customary circuit. The eagerness of Thomas, the calm dignity of Jesus are fine; but the face of John, as he stands just behind Thomas, and looks upon his rash act, is one to remember always. It seems to me the very personification of forbearance. He submits calmly that Thomas should do it should satisfy himself but yet he is exceedingly sorrowful. There is no surprise in his countenance; he knows human frailty; he is not astonished at unbelief or hardness of heart; but it seems, at the same time, as if his own heart were broken at the spectacle. There is not the slightest rebuke in his beautiful countenance; but such a union of indulgence and sorrow, as one might well pray for, at that altar-(it is an altarpiece)—to be awakened in his mind when he stands by the evil and erring.

A walk in St. Peter's is something by itself—a thing not to be had, nor anything like it, anywhere else in the world. The immensity of the place; its immense, unequalled magnificence; the charming temperature of the air, preserved the same the year round by the vastness of the mass of masonry; the incense-breathing walls—for there is literally an odour of sanctity always here, from the daily burning of incense; the rich, beautiful, variegated marble columns; the altars, the tombs on every side, the statues, the paintings, the fine medallions in marble, of the heads of saints and fathers of the church, which are set into the sides of the columns in great numbers; then the arches on arches that present themselves to the view in every direction; and, if the walk be towards evening (the only right time), the music of the vesper hymn, now swelling in full chorus upon the ear, and then dying away, as the music changes, or the walk leads you near the chapel whence it proceeds, or farther from it; all this, with the gathering shadows of approaching evening-the shadows slowly gathering in arch and dome-makes a walk in St. Peter's like nothing else!

January 8.-I was present at the celebration of high mass in the chapel of the Propaganda, a few days since, and, for the first time in Rome, was gratified with an air of deliberation, dignity, and something like delicacy, given to the performance of this rite. The principal person officiating was the Bishop of the Sandwich Islands, lately ordained, and soon to depart for his distant home. The students of the Propaganda were all dressed in white tunics, and their singing, and their decorous behaviour, as well as that of all the officiating persons, who, instead of hurrying through the liturgy with indecent haste, repeated it slowly, and, instead of bowing and dodging about the altar, really kneeled-all this made it a very beautiful service.

In the morning of the same day, there were common masses said in the chapel, in various languages. It was very striking to see, in succession, the bearded Greek, the black Ethiop, and the swarthy Armenian, officiating as priests at the altar; and some of the persons kneeling around the altars-monks, I presume, from the East-looked like the very personifications of oriental maceration.

There is something very imposing in this gathering of all nations into one fold. Fifty languages are read in the Propaganda. One of the things at St. Peter's that makes you feel the majesty of this system is, that there are confessionals at St. Peter's for almost all nations, in their respective languages.

VATICAN LIBRARY.·

CHURCHES.

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January 10.-We went to-day with the rector and some of the students of the Propaganda, through the Vatican library. We were received by M. Mezzofanti, who has immediate charge of the library, an aged and very learned man, who speaks forty-two languages-himself, therefore, to me, the greatest wonder in the library. He showed us some very old manuscripts, a Virgil and a Terence, each of the fifth century; a most splendid manuscript of Dante on vellum, beautifully illuminated and painted; and some curious autograph letters from Henry VIII. to Anne Boleyn.

Afterward we were shown a large cabinet of curiosities taken from ancient churches, and from the catacombs, consisting of instruments of torture, antique lamps, bronze crosses, and silver chalices. They were chiefly from the catacombs. Upon these objects, the eyes of the persecuted and devoted company, in caves and dens of the earth, had rested; with what emotions, how little are we able to comprehend!

January 11.-Really, the Roman marionettes, alias puppets, which we have been to see this evening, are worth a description. They are of the size of grown men and women, and they are made to perform an entire play and ballet. The dialogue is read by persons out of sight at the sides of the stage, while the puppets "suit the action to the word" with such propriety and grace as are perfectly surprising. There are few speakers who might not take lessons from their gestures. Then the ballet was performed almost with the skill and accuracy of opera dancers. But that the strings by which they are suspended and moved are too much in sight, one might scarcely suspect, in looking at these curious and amusing performers, that they were not real persons. January 12.-To-day (Sunday) I have been wandering among the churches. First, to the Church of S. Maria di Vittoria, opposite the Fontana di Termine. In this church is the celebrated statue of St. Cecilia about to be pierced by the dart of the angel of death, by Bernini; but I have nothing special to say about it. Next, to the neighbouring churches, built on the Baths of Diocletian. One of these, the S. Maria degli Angeli, is in the form of a Greek cross,* and, in its proportions, pleases me more than any church in Rome, and is, besides, a splendid structure. I have visited it many times since I have been here, and it was with quite a sadness of spirit that I took my last look at it to-day. In the Church of St. Bernardo, at the other end, and on the foundation of the Baths of Diocletian, there was a celebration of the mass this morning; and to think, that on this very building, once devoted to the pleasures of a pagan emperor-on this very spot, where were martyred, in cold and wanton cruelty, the forty thousand Christian slaves who had built this immense edifice t—that here a Christian service was chanted, by many voices, and the pealing organ, and every solemn ceremonial, was enough to make the service interesting and touching, even if it had not been well performed-which, for once, it Afterward I passed through S. Maria Maggiore, to bid it adieu, with its splendid chapels and its beautiful ranges of Ionic pillars.

was.

* That is, where both naves are of equal length, and not like the Latin cross, where they are unequal.

The Baths of Diocletian, the largest in ancient Rome, were more than one thousand feet square; that is, they covered about twenty-five acres.

This afternoon I attended a singular exhibition at the Propaganda. It is a sort of Epiphany celebration, and consists in recitations in a great number of languages. On this occasion, the languages spoken were thirty-seven in number. Our own language had a very good representative, especially as to the manner of speaking (which was the best on the boards), in a young American from Philadelphia, and we gave him a good round clap for it. It was amusing to see how the spectators from different countries clapped, as their various languages were pronounced; but it was especially striking to observe how the feelings of the whole audience took part with a black Ethiop boy, and gave him, evidently on that account alone, a far heartier reception than to any other. January 13.-I have been to-day to visit the tomb of Tasso, at the Church of St. Onofrio, on the west side of the Tiber. The church has a beautiful and commanding situation on the brow of Mount Janiculus, a range of hill that runs along the west side of the city. In the convent which joins the church, Tasso spent his last days, and there died. There is a pleasant piazza or corridor in front of the convent, and the spot itself is retired and delightful. Tasso had come to Rome to receive the highest honour which was left in the hands of the former mistress of the world to confer the poet's coronation in the Capitol. The ceremony was deferred till spring, in order to give it the greater splendour. But he grew more ill in the winter; caused himself to be carried to St. Onofrio; and died the very day on which he was to have been crowned!

January 15.-The great business of to-day has been to visit the gallery of paintings at the palace of Cardinal Fesch, and it is very rich.

There are a number of

Rembrants-portraits, with that wonderfully natural countenance, and especially that living eye, in which, I am tempted to say, he surpasses all other painters. Also

A Correggio: A Descent from the Cross; with the soft golden light -light rather than colouring which, I believe, characterizes his pictures. The descent here is effected by the ministry of angels; and the conception appears to me to be beautiful. But the best piece of

all is

A Raphael Mengs: Semiramis at her Toilet-an exquisitely delicate and lovely countenance. I have seen nothing of Mengs that was not very fine.

Teniers: a great many of his small, graphic, almost unequalled paintings, in humble and grotesque life.

Some exquisite small pieces on copper; churches, chapels, with admirable perspective.

Some capital landscapes by Wouvermans.

January 16.-The Academy of St. Luke, where I have been to-day, is worth a visit. Raphael's St. Luke painting the Virgin, is considered the principal object, and it is not unworthy of Raphael. The difference between inspiration in a revery, and inspiration engaged in a fixed effort, is finely marked in the countenance of Luke. There is a sort of fixed compression about the lips, such as I have seen in an artist in the act of painting; and yet the eye is full of inspiration. There are in this academy a number of beautiful small premium casts, and some delightful portraits.

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145

After this I went through the Forum, along the ruins of the Palatine, and to the top of the Coliseum, and took my last melancholy look at these melancholy objects.

On coming home through the Corso, I observed a collection of carriages about the Church of St. Marcellus, and on going in, found the church lighted up-it was just at evening-with ten or twelve chandeliers, and a great number of wax candles, creating a splendid illumination. It was dressed out with the usual decorations of a festacurtains hanging in festoons before the altars, &c.-filled with a crowd of people, and filled, too, with glorious music. This-I mean music, not always glorious music, however-is the principal part of all celebrations of saints' days, &c. The present ceremonies, I learned, were for St. Marcellus's day. The music was sustained by the organ, a band of performers on instruments playing with rare delicacy and fine execution, and an immense choir, some of them singing with that wonderful combination of high falsetto, running almost beyond the power of a woman's voice, yet without any of its shrillness, which is scarcely ever attained, unless where the physical nature is sacrificed to it. For my part, I go heartily along with these celebrations, and wish that such were introduced into our Protestant churches.

January 17.—I went to-day to the piazza before S. Maria Maggiore, to witness the singular ceremony of blessing the horses. The day is called St. Anthony's day. The ceremony is simply this: Carriage after carriage drives up before a chapel-so it was while I stood to observe it a priest comes forth dressed in his robes, and, after uttering prayers or benedictions (I know not which-nobody can know what a priest says, unless he knows it beforehand), he takes a brush, and dipping it in the vase of holy water at the door of the chapel, sprinkles it over the horses.

January 19.-We went to see the mosaic manufactory, in the basement story of the Vatican. Camuccini's painting of the Incredulity of St. Thomas is there; and it is a curious fact, that it is not equal to the mosaic of the same painting in St. Peter's. This mosaic work is quite wonderful, for it comes very near to the perfection of painting. The mode is, to have a strong frame of iron, on which is spread an amalgam, and into this amalgam are set the stones which form the mosaic. These stones, by the bye, are themselves manufactured. They are a sort of vitrified substance, made of any given colour by certain exact proportions of the necessary ingredients-the receipt for each one being recorded in a mammoth volume lying upon the table. It astonished me to find, deposited and numbered, in the immense repository of this establishment, eighteen thousand different shades of colouring.

January 20.-I do not know that I can take a more appropriate leave of Rome, than by a notice of its churches. Nothing in Rome has astonished me so much. The works of art have, if anything, fallen short of my expectations; that is, as a mass some things cannot disappoint. The ruins, with the exception of the Coliseum, certainly have. They are mostly brick ruins; and a brick ruin is the least interesting of all remains. And the churches, I acknowledge, have very little in their architecture or exterior appearance to recommend them. front is frequently nothing but a dead brick wall. However, it has one recommendation; it is a complete protection against street noises.

K

The

So that you pass at once from the bustling city into the deepest seclusion.

There are three hundred and fifty churches in Rome: and any one of an hundred of them is such a wonder and beauty, as, placed in America, would draw visiters from all parts of the country. I speak now exclusively of the interior. The entire interior walls of many of these churches are clothed with polished, antique marble. They are hung around with paintings; and filled with marble pillars, statues, tombs, and altars. These altars, built often of jasper, porphyry, and the most precious ancient marbles, are commonly placed in recesses or chapels on each side of the church, so that they offer some retirement to the votary.

I confess that I seldom enter these churches without an impulse to go and kneel at some of the altars. and both agree with me in this. We have often said, that if it were not for the air of pretension it would have to any of our acquaintances who might chance to pass, we certainly should do it. As we were walking in St. Peter's to-day, said, "It does not signify, I do wish, in serious earnest, that I could be a Catholic.' My own feeling is-and in this we agreed that if it were not for the faith, I should like many of the forms very well. These ever-open churches, these ever-ascending prayers, the deep seclusion and silence, “the dim religious light," the voices of morning mass or vesper hymn, the sacred themes depicted upon every wall and dome, and again and evermore, these holy altars, whose steps have been worn by the knees of the pilgrims of ages past all these things commend themselves, not merely to the imagination, but to the most unaffected sentiments of devotion.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE ROMAN CATHOLIC SYSTEM.

On taking leave of Rome, I shall make it a text for some thoughts on the general subject of the Catholic religion.

Of a dispensation of Christianity, embracing more countries, and numbering more adherents than any other, it cannot be at any time unimportant or uninteresting, to form a correct judgment. But in addition to this, there are circumstances at the present moment, which give the subject a considerable prominence among those that invite the public attention. The old Protestant horror against Popery has been, for some time past, gradually dying away; and although circumstances have recently kindled up a temporary excitement on the subject, I think it cannot become general or lasting. The papal see has lost all political power and importance; it is fast parting with its revenues; it is annually alienating to bankers, parcel by parcel, the very patrimony of St. Peter's; it no longer gives any countenance to those worst corruptions which brought on the Protestant Reformation; and if it has