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Mag. Dejcriptien of tht Cburcb
conveys the following lines to Clclia.
"My charming Clelia, "Though I yet love you to distraction, I cannot but suspect that you have granted favours to your confessor, which you might, with greater innocence, have granted to Leander. All I have to add is this, that amorous intercourses of this nature, which you have enjoyed with friar Laurence, put you under the like necessity with him of seeking a remedy in the ocean.
Adieu! Leander 1"
Imagine Clelia guilty, and then imagine her confusion. To rail was insignificant, and to blame her physician was absurd, when site found
of St. Peter'/ at Rome. 26}
herself under a necessity of pursuing his advice. The whole society was made acquainted with the journey she was undertaking, and the causes of it. It were uncharitable to suppose the whole community under the same constraint with the unhappy Clelia. However, the greater part thought it decent to attend her. Some went as her companions, some for exercise, some for amusement, and the abbess herself as nuardian of her train, and concerned in her society's misfortunes.
What use Leander made of his discovery is not known. Perhaps when he had been successful in banishing the hypocrite, he di .1 not shew himself very follkitotu in his endeavours to reform the sinner.
Description os the Churc
THIS noble and magnificent structure, which for the harmony of its architecture, fineness and great variety of carved and giiwsirtrlt; pictures, statues, &c. may justly claim the pre-eminence over all other buildings of the fame kind in the world, stands on the site of Caligula's Circus, and was first dedicared by Constantine the Great, to the Twelve Apostles; but in 15^0 it was entirely rebuilt : for pope Julius II. began it on Bramante Lazari's plan; hit successor Paul 111.' continued it on that ot Michael Angclo, and it i>a«'finished under the papacy of Julius V. so that it was the work of one hundred years, and cost forty millions of croons in building, besides the daily repairs and decorations that are making to it.
Eramante made the first design j May 17 64.
a of St. Peter'/ at Rome.
his model is now in the Vatican palace: it is so large, that a person may enter into several parts of it. After his death, the design was altered by Raphael Uibin, Sangallo, and others; it was brought to the form of the Greek cross by Michael Angelo, prolonged afterwards to the form of the Latin cross by she Chevalier Fontana, Carlo Maderna, and others,who still continued theorder of M. Angelo.The church itself is72 2feet long, and 86 broad; the breadth of the front is 400 feet, and the whole height troni the floor to the top of the cross that stands over the ball is 432 feet. By the print we have annexed, it is easy to be seen after what manner it is built; and thar, for its general form, our St. Paul's agrees pretty much with it. Indeed., it were to be wished, that Oui's had M in sue!* 264 Dtfiriptita cf tie Church
-such an approach as that has, than which nothing can be more grand or magnificent.
Before the church is a magnificent and spacious Piazza, in the middle of which stands an-obelisk of granate or black marble, brought from Egypt, and reared at an immense expence in the papacy of Sixtus V. by Domenico Fontana. It is 80 feet high, and stands on a pedestal of thirty more, and on the top is a brass gilt cross.
The upper end of the church stands to the west. There is no separation of that part for a choir, as is in St. Paul's, and other Cathedrals among us. A side chapel is appropriated to that purpose there; so that at frrst entrance there is a spacious open view, continued quite to the further end of the church; where, aloft, against the wall, is placed the chair of St. Peter, supported by the four doctors of the Latin church, St. Jeroro, St. Augustin, St. Ambrose, and St. Gregory; and a glory above, with Angels, &c. all of copper, a most costly and noble ornament. But the real chair of St. Peter is pretended ta be within that exposed to public view. The ornaments of this chair alone are said to have cost 107,551 Roman crowns, at 5s. and 6d. value each, v
The pavilion of the great altar, which stands under the cupola, is accounted the finest ornament in the whole work: there is something in it very uncommon and very magnificent. It is supported by sour wreathed pillars of Corinthian brass, which, was taken by pope Urban VIII. from off the Portico.of the Pantheon; they are adorned with festoons and foliage of the fame me5
es St. Peter'/ at Rome. British
tal, disposed in a very agreeable 'manner. They say that under this altar are deposited half the bodies of St. Peter and St. Paul, and that the other half of them is elsewhere; either dt the old church of St. Paul without the city, or that of Sr.John Lateran. Upwards of a hundred lamps are continually burning before this depositum, which is encompassed with a marble balustrade.
The great cupola is all wrought in Mosaic, as are the four Angels immediately under it. Within the cupola itself are the twelve Apostles in several compartiæents, which fill the first great circle that goes round the cupola: above them Angels in the fame manner; and at the top of a lantern which rises above the cupola, is represented the Deity, as an old man with his arms extended, performed in Mosaic also. In the four angles nnder, are represented the four Evangelists. The side cupolas are also wrought in Mosaic: the church itself is incrusted with marble.
It would be endless to enter into particulars of the statues, paintings, Mosaics, and basso-relievos, which every part of it abounds with, together with the noble sepulchral monuments of several popes, and that of Christina queen of Sweden; all adorned with curious sculpture. The body of that queen, however, is deposited within a plain tomb in a grotta, under the church, though her monument be above.
There is one thing very remarkable amon<? the basso relievoes on
the brazen gates, at the entrance. There are some figures of heathen story intermixed with the foliage: Ganymede and the Eagle, Jupiter and Leda, &c. Perhaps these have
been Mag. Surprising Account of the suidtn
been taken from some heathen temple; certain it is, that they would hare been more suitable there.
The illumination on the outside of this church, on the eve of St. Peter, is a glorious fight; they place the lights in suchv a manner, all along the several members of the architecture on the outside, and make them so to conform with them, that the whole has, at a distance, the appearance of a perfect temple on fire.
In the subterraneous church are several beautiful chapels, finely adorned with marble, &c. The whole is low, and has not so spacious a look as that under our St. Paul's. Here are fixed up in the walls, and several other places, several orna
EffiS of Fiar in a Defer ter. a 6 5
ments of the old church, Mosaics, baflb relievoes, old statues, Sec. the real tombs of popes, and other great persons, whose honorary ones ar« above.
To conclude: the ^ornaments in this magnificent .edifice are so many, and so cuppas, ffiey strike the mind of the spectator with such amazement at first entrance,, and the eye is so called off from one beauty to another, thatjt is sonic time before it can fix 'upon any'in particular. Every time..one-views it,}frefh beauties present themselves; and the entc11..inment -one meets with there, is so far from producing satiety, that the pleasure still increases upon every view of this noble'pile.
A surprising Account of tbt sudden EsseS of Fiar in a Deserter.
OEorge Grochantzy, a Polander, who had inlisted as a soldier in the service of the king of Prussia," deserted during the last war; a small party was sent in pursuit of him, and when he least expected it, they surprised him singing and dancing among a company of peasants, who were got together in an inn, and were making merry. This event, so sudden and unforeseen, and at the same time so dreadful in its consequences, struck him in such a manner, that, giving a great cry, he be£ame at once altogether stupid and insensible, and was seized without the least resistance.
They carried him away to Glocau, where he was brought before the council of war, and received sentence '* a deserter: he suffered himself to k had and disposed of at the will of those about him, without uttering » word, or giving the least sign that
he knew what had happened to him; he remained immoveable as a statue wherever he was placed, and was wholly passive with respect to all' that was done to him or about him; during all the time that he was in custody, he neither eat, nor drank, nor slept, nor had any evacuation; some of his comrades were sent to see him; after that he was visited by some officers of his corps, and by some priests, bnt he still continued in the fame state, without discovering the least signs of sensibility. Promises, entreaties, and threatenings, were equally ineffectual; the physicians who were consulted upon this case were of opinion, that he was in a state of hopeless idiotcy. It was at first suspected that these appearances were feigned, but these suspicions htceffarily gave way, when it was known that he took no sustenance, and that the intclunM m i taxy tS6 Mrs. Highmore'j Cmplaint
tary functions of nature were in a great measure suspended.
After some tine they knocked off" his fetters, and left him at liberty to go whither he would; he received his liberty with the fame insensibility that Jie had shewed upon other occasions; he remained fixed and immoveable, his eyes turned wildly here and there without taking cognizance of any object, and the muscles of his faefi were fallen and fixed like those of a dead body.
Being left to himself, he passed 20
of her Hujbanf s Iniiffermt. British
days in this condition, without eating, drinking, or any evacuation, and died on the 20th day; he had been sometimes heard to fetch deep sighs, and once he rushed with great violence on a soldier, who had a mug of liquor in his hand, forced the mug from him, and having drank the liquor with great eagerness, let the mug drop to the ground.
The singularity of this cafe ha? been the subject of much speculation in Germany.
To the Authart of the Gentlemen,
T Am a constant reader of your JL productions, and have conceived such ans opinion of your regard for the poor women, that I am resolved to trouble you with an account of my situation, especially as it is possible that several of my lex are labouring under the fame anxieties, and that this letter may be productive of some happy consequences to them, however it may fail in being any way advantageous to me.
Von must know, Gentlemen, that about three years ago, 1 was married to a m3n of distinguished understanding, as well as considerable fortune; and therefore looked upon by all my friends to be very happily
settled for life. My husband's
known good fense, and the affluence of his circumstances were considered by every body, as indubitable securities for my felicity, and there was scarcely a youne lady of my acquaintance who did not envy me so favourable a match.
I h rd not however been married above a month, before I found my■stlf treated with 3 palpable indiiler
ence, and cut off from -all those rational enjoyments which I flattered, myself with possessing in the continual society of so sensible a husband, — Instead of entertaining me as he was formerly accustomed, with instructive relations of men and things, he grew silent and reserved, and instead of the continual vivacity with which his looks had before been animated, nothing now appeared upon his brow but a fettled air of the most perfect disregard, or a supercilious smile of contempt. — F was for a long time at a loss to account for so siirpiising an alteration of temper, and you may be sure, as 1 passionately loved Mr. Highmore, such a change must have given me many an uneasy moment, particularly as I studied, with all possible care, to keep ray anxiety concealed.—'Twas a mortifying circumstance if I asked a tender question, to be answered1 with a blunt yes, or no; to be told I teized him, if I enquired after his health, and have my hand tost away with an ill-natured 'pshaw, if I presumed to take hold os his, or attempted
Mag. Mrs. Highmore'/ Complaint of her HuJbancPi Indiffertnci. 267 tempted to regulate any little article posed a walk in the park—women of his dress.—At last, Gentlemen, truly were pretty companions to the mystery was unravelled, I over- dangle with in public :—If I menheard him one day talking to an in- tioned a game at cards, fools only titrate friend of his about the follies had recourse to diversions of that of the fair sex, declaring, that the kind.—In short, let me start what I very belt were a most contemptible would, either the meanness of my pack of creatures, much below the understanding, or the greatness of notice of a man of understanding;—r his own, was sure of defeating all my "for my part (says he) I suppose views, and nothing was happy enough myself as happily married as anybody to merit his approbation but what of my acquaintance, but still a wife immediately proceeded from himself, is no more than a woman; and as —For this last twelvemonth, Mr. such, tho' a necessary animal, she is Highmore has commenced ban viconsequently below the regard of a vans, and fat till three or four o'clock man of common speculation." every morning with a select party of Having thus discovered the occa- friends, who are eminent in the world sionof Mr. Highmore's indifference, for their literary abilities. As it is a I resolved to render myself as worthy fundamental principle with these exof his attention as I could, by con- traordinarygentlemen, never to part, versing on the most important sub- while they are able to fit together,' jects I was able: for this purpose I irregularity and intemperance have would occasionally cite a passage from so impaired the constitution of my our celebrated writers, and delivermy poor Mr. Highmore, that I am teropinion on historical events, poetical rifled to death at the bare supposicomposition, and such other parts of tion of the consequences.—His emliterature as I thought would be most ployment all day is to recover from agreeabje to the temper I saw him the excesses of the preceding evenin.—But alas, instead of finding his ing, and his business all night to humour abated by this solicitude to provide an indisposition for the next please, I had the misfortune to see it day.
visibly increased: — If I quoted a For God's fake, Gentlemen, fay
passage from any author, he smiled; something about those men of sense
—If I pretended to judge, he titter- who look upon women to be idiots,
ed—But if I was insolent enough to and yet are guilty of actions that
differ from the minutest opinion of would make the meanest of us afham
his, he either flew out of the house, ed.—Is this superiority of under
Ct politely laughed in my face.:— standing, upon which the generality
Every casual impropriety of accent of your sex so highly pique them
he was sure to ridicule, and those selves, to be pleaded as an eternal
little grammatical inaccuracies which excuse for indiscretions and errors,
women cannot always avoid, were and no allowance to be made for the
an everlasting subject of contempts— little failings of the poor women, tho*
Palling in my endeavours here, I at- we are treated continually as fools f
tempted to engage him jn a va- I could fay a great deal on this
riety of amusements, but in vain.— subject, but fearing to trespass too
If I proposed the play—women only much upon your leisure, I shall take
diverted his attention from the bust- my leave, And am, your's, &c
«fc of the performance;—If I pro- A. Highmore.