its covert treason, its gloomy discontent, its deep licentiousness, and, except for the form, its heartless irreligion, answer the question. The Christianity of Rome may have some features of truth and beauty, but it is secularized, say rather paganized, by superstition. The Pope represents the old Pontifex Maximus; the churches, with their innumerable altars sacrifices and incense reproduce, or at least resemble, the temples of pagan worship; the nuns, with their vows of celibacy, the old vestal virgins; the sprinkling of holy water, the lustration of the Roman priests; and St. Peter, adored by the devout, the Jupiter of the Capitol. These, it may be said, are merely forms; to which, we simply suggest, that forms are the symbols and expressions of thought; and if this be Christianity, it is Christianity mingled and debased with an element of idolatry.

But enough of this. To refresh ourselves, let us take a turn towards the Vatican, and some other parts of Rome, where we may be free from noise and bustle. Our time, however, will not admit of our giving more than a passing glance at this immense building, or rather series of buildings, dedicated partly to ecclesiastical and political, and partly to artistic and literary uses; with its wilderness of saloons, corridors and chambers, where "beauty in everlasting repose is dreaming of herself;" the sacristy of St. Peter's, and the Sistine Chapel, made famous by Michael Angelo's fresco of the Last Judgment; the Capitol with its galleries of paintings and statuary, and many other buildings and places of interest. Escaping from modern Rome, we pass along the edge of the Capitoline hill, into the deep and solemn quiet of those beautiful but melancholy ruins beyond, among which the sombre olive, the deep green Ilex and the gadding vine cast pleasant shadows. Why, it is as still here as if we were in the country! Not a human being is seen. Not a sound is heard, except the hollow murmur of the neighboring city, or the mellow tones of the vesper bells at a dis

tance. Let us take a turn towards the Coliseum; we may find some life there. We enter the huge but majestic structure. A few solitary monks are offering their devotions before the tombs of the martyrs; for even the Coliseum is a sort of church. Altars here and there, around the walls, invite the homage of the faithful. How mournfully, but sweetly, floats their dirge-like chant through the still air of the time-worn structure! What a change from the time when, in the presence of myriads bending from the vast galleries above, the mighty roar of the Numidian lion startled the echoes of the amphitheatre, and paled the cheek of the patient Christian, placed there to encounter the famishing monster!

But let us return to the city. Going round by the other side of the Coliseum, in the direction of Monte Cavallo, we shall find a nearer road to the Corso, our home for the night. We are now in the dimly lighted streets of modern Rome. It is the time of vespers. Yonder is a church, the Capella della Humilta, the Chapel of Humility, as it is styled, in which some service is performing. The blaze of light issuing from the windows near the. grand altar, 'shows it to be one of some consequence. A cardinal, after alighting from his purple carriage, with four black horses, and outriders, has just entered the building. Behind him are several handsomely dressed ladies, who turn to the door on the left, and lose themselves in the crowd. Let us enter. But instead of a plain and humble edifice, as we, in our simplicity supposed the Chapel of Humility must be, this is absolutely glittering with splendor and show. Quite a number of people are here, some standing, and others, especially females, kneeling. One, in particular, attracts our attention. Tall and gorgeously dressed, a ady, leaning upon the arm of a genteel-looking young man, glides into the principal aisle, kneels a few moments, crosses herself once or twice, and then, attended by the same gentleman, hastily

leaves, as if anxious to meet some important engagement at the theatre, opera, or some other place. Before the altar, covered with a blaze of wax lights, and blushing with gems and gold, kneel two ecclesiastics in gorgeous habiliments. Soon after they . rise, and, bowing to the altar, pass to one side; when a third enters the rostrum or pulpit, and gives utterance to an extravagant eulogy on the Virgin Mother, whom he styles the Mother of God, the Queen of Heaven, the centre of hearts, the beauty and glory of the universe; exhorting all to cling to her, for aid and solace, and adore her as the unstained Virgin, the all-prevalent Mediatrix with Christ and God! He must be one of the preaching abbes or friars, who at certain seasons of the year, particularly during Lent, make the churches of Italy resound with their impassioned eloquence. At the close, an earnest and solemn prayer is offered to the Holy Virgin, as if she were omniscient and divine. Incense is offered before the grand altar, and a priestly benediction pronounced upon the people.

CHAPTER XVI.

Pope Pius Ninth-The strongest and weakest of the Popes-Contrasts— Pope Hildebrand and Pope Pius-Flight from Rome-Pontificate of Gregory Sixteenth-Pontificate of Pius Ninth-Changes--Revolution-Real position of Pius Ninth-Prospects of Italy.

We have dwelt long enough upon externalities, though these are sufficiently significant and worthy of study. But we must look a little more into the interior life of Rome, of which these are the expressive symbols, ascertain its political condition, and make acquaintance with its distinguished men, especially with Pius Ninth, who thus far has been one of the strongest and yet one of the weakest of the popes. Indeed, his strength has constituted his weakness! At the commencement of the pontificate, he seemed to understand the age, and discovered a noble desire to promote political reform and amelioration; there has lain his strength. This has given him what little hold he possesses on the affections of the people. This has secured his popularity, such as it is, both at home and abroad. But change and reform after all have proved his greatest weakness. These already have shorn him of half his power, and, if permanently successful, will snatch from him his entire temporal sovereignty. Indeed, it is virtually gone now! Subjected to the caprice of the giddy populace, tossed upon the topmost wave of revolution, which he can neither control nor resist, he has been driven further than he dreamed. The wave, gathering fury by the wind of popular violence, rushes on

in spite of his protestations, and whither it will finally dash him, who can tell?

The support of Austria, the most powerful Catholic kingdom, except France, on the continent of Europe, has been lost. At least, it cannot be regained, except by the most abject submission, and a total wreck of all that has hitherto constituted his glory. Till within a short time, the Pope has been personally popular; yet all the while the priesthood, as a body, have been just the reverse. If they are endured in their spiritual, they are detested in their secular capacity. Forming one twenty-eighth part of the entire population, and constituting, in the persons of the cardinals and other high-church dignitaries, the lords temporal as well as spiritual of the Roman States, they are regarded by the great body of the people as a curse, rather than a blessing. And now, Pope Pius the Ninth, by his retrograde and temporizing policy, has been "cast down from his excellency;" and if not as a priest, yet as a prince, is receiving the anathemas of the Roman populace! The citizens, indeed, have no idea at present of abjuring the Catholic faith; far from it. That is a thing of which they have scarcely thought, and to which, thus far, they have made no practical approach. But the one thing, which above all others they desire, is freedom from priestly domination. Already have they thrown it off in part; everywhere, and at all points, the people demand their rights. So long as the Pope aided them in this, they extolled him to the skies; but the instant he interposed to prevent its accomplishment, his influence as a ruler was lost forever. No one acquainted with Italian affairs believes that the Pope has been popular simply as a pope. No, it was only as a man and a reformer that he possessed any hold of their affections. Already they regard him with jealousy and aversion; and have compelled him to acts which he dreaded and abjured.