necessary articles, mostly his own handiwork; it has a window high up in the chancel, whence he could assist at the Offices in the church. The Empress Maria Theresa visited it in 1765, and seating herself in the stiff wooden chair, exclaimed, 'What men our forefathers were!' Another illustrious pilgrim, whose visit is treasured in the memories of the house, was S. Lorenzo of Brindisi, when on his way to found a house of the Order in Austria. The monks begged of him his Hebrew Bible, his walking-stick, and breviary, which are still treasured as relics. All the churches of Innsbruck and many throughout Tirol felt the benefit of his devotion to the Church. His spirit was emulated by the townspeople, and when the fatal epidemic of 1611 ceased its ravages, the burghers of Innsbruck built the Dreiheiligkeitskirche for the Jesuits as a thankoffering that the plague was stayed.

The temporal affairs of Tirol received no less attention from Archduke Maximilian than the spiritual; with the foresight of a true statesman, he discovered the coming troubles of the Thirty Years War, and resolved that the defences of his country should be in a state to keep the danger at a distance from her borders. The fortified towers, especially those commanding the passes into the country, were all overlooked, and plans of them carefully prepared, all the fortifications being carefully put in repair. The living bulwarks, the ready defenders of their beloved mountain Vaterland, attracted his still more special attention, and he furnished them with a regulation suited to the needs of the times. He settled also several outstanding disputes with the Venetians, with Count Arco, and with neighbours over the north and west frontiers; and an internal boundary quarrel between the Bishops of Brixen and Trent. The death of Rudolf II., in 1612, had invested him with supreme authority over the country, and simplified his action in all these matters for the benefit of the commonwealth.

Another outburst of pestilence occurred in 1611; the old Siechen-haus was not big enough for all the sick, and had no church attached to it. Two Jesuits, the professor of theology at their university, and Kaspar von Köstlan, a native of Brixen, assisted by a lay-brother, devoted themselves to the service of the sick; their example so edified the Innsbruckers, that in their admiration they readily provided the means at their exhortation to build a church. Hanns Zimmermann, Dean of the Burghermasters, bound himself by a vow to see to the erection of the building, and from that time it was observed the fury of the pestilence began to diminish. Maximilian bought the neighbouring house and appointed it for the residence of the chaplain of the Siechen-haus and the doctors. He gave also the altar-piece by Stötzl, representing the three Pestschutzheiligen,† and another quaint and curious picture of the plaguegenius.

Maximilian died in 1618, and a religious vow having kept him * Holy Trinity Church.

Patron saints against pestilence.

unmarried, the government was transferred to Leopold V., Archduke of Styria, again a most exemplary man. His father was Charles II., son of the Emperor Ferdinand I.; he had originally been devoted to the ecclesiastical state, and nominated Bishop of Strasburg and Passau; but out of regard for the exigences of the country, a dispensation, of which I think history only affords two other examples, was granted him from Rome. He married the celebrated Claudia de' Medici, Duchess of Urbino. Though also Governor of the Low Countries, he by no means neglected the affairs of Tirol. Some fresh attempts of Lutherans to interfere with its religious unity, as well as to foment political dissensions, were put down with a resolute hand; Friedrich von Tiefenbach, sometime notorious as a politico-religious leader in Moravia, was discovered in a hiding-place he had selected, in the wild caves at Pfäffers below Chur, and tried and beheaded at Innsbruck in 1621. The selection of Innsbruck for the marriage of the Emperor Ferdinand II. with his second wife Eleonora, daughter of the Duke of Mantua in 1622, revived the splendours of Maximilian's reign, for the Emperor stayed there some weeks with all his court; the Landeswehr turned out three thousand strong to form his guard of honour. It was the depth of winter, but the bride braved the snow; the Count of Harrach was sent out to meet her on the Brenner Pass with six gilt sledges, and a vast concourse of people. It is recorded that the Emperor wore on the occasion an entirely white suit embroidered in gold and pearls, on his shoulders a short sky-blue cloak lined with cloth of gold, and a diamond chain round his neek. Eleonora, more in accordance with the season, wore a tight-fitting dress of carnation satin embroidered in gold, over it a sable jacket, and a hat with a plume of eagles' feathers. The banquet was entirely served by young Tirolean nobles. The Emperor's present to his bride was a pearl parure, costing thirty thousand ducats; and that of the town of Innsbruck a purse of eighteen thousand ducats. Leopold was confirmed by his imperial brother in the government on this occasion. His own marriage was celebrated with scarcely less state than the Emperor's in April, 1626, an array of handsome tents being pitched in the meadows of Wilten, where the Landesschützen performed many marksmen's feats for the diversion of the company assembled for the ceremonial; this included the Archbishop of Salzburg, who officiated in the Church function, one hundred and fifty counts and barons, and three hundred of noble blood. The visit of the Grand-duke of Tuscany, in 1628, and of Ferdinand, King of Hungary and Bohemia, in 1629, were other notable occasions of rejoicing for Innsbruck.

Leopold benefited and adorned the town by the enclosure and planting of the Hofgarten, and the bronze equestrian statue of himself, still one of its chief ornaments; but his memory has been more deeply endeared to the people by the present of Kranach's Madonna, which they have copied in almost every church, household, and highway, of the country.

It is a little picture on panel, very like many of its date, in which the tenderness of devotion beams through and redeems all the stiffness of mannerism, but which we are apt to pass, I had almost said, by the dozen, in the various galleries of Europe, with no more than a casual glance. With the Tirolese it was otherwise; their faith-inspired eyes saw in it a whole revelation of Divine mercy and love; they gazed on the outpouring of maternal fondness and filial confidence in the unutterable communion of the Mother and the Son there portrayed; and deeming that where so much love reigned no petition could be rejected; they believed that answers to the frequent prayers of faith sent up before it were reaped an hundredfold,* and the fame of the benefits so derived was symbolized in the title universally given to the picture of Mariähülfsbild. Leopold being in the early part of his reign on a visit to the Elector of Saxony, on occasion of one of his journeys between Tirol and the Low Countries, and being lost in admiration of his collection of pictures at Dresden, received from him the offer of any painting he liked to select. There were many choice specimens, but the devotional conception of this picture carried him away from all the rest, and it became his selection. He never parted from it afterwards, and it accompanied him in all his journeyings. When in Innsbruck, it formed the altar-piece of the Hofkapelle, whither the people crowded to kindle their devotion at its focus. After the withdrawal of the allied French, Swedish, and Hessian troops, in 1647, the Innsbruckers, in thanksgiving for the success of their prayers before it, built the elegant little circular temple on the left bank of the Inn, still called the Mariähülfskirche, thinking to enshrine it there; but Ferdinand Karl, who had then succeeded to his father Leopold, could not bear to part with it, and gave them a copy instead, by Paul Schor, inserted in a larger picture representing it borne by angels, and the notabilities of Innsbruck kneeling beneath it; the Mariähülfskirche is introduced into the background landscape. However, the number of people who pressed to approach it were so great, that he was in a manner constrained to bestow it on the Pfarrkirche only two or three years later, where it now remains; it was translated thither during Queen Christina's visit, as I have mentioned above. It was borne on a car by six white horses, the crowded streets being strewn with flowers. It is a small picture, and has been let into a large canvas painted in Schöpf's best manner, with angels which appear to support it, and beneath, S. James, patron of the church, and S. Alexius. A centenary festival was observed in memory of the translation by Maria Theresa in 1750, when all the precious ex votos, the thank-offerings for many granted prayers, were

Thirteen volumes were filled with the narrations of such answers received between 1662 and 1665.

6

† Picture of Mary Help of Christians,'-' Auxilium Christianorum.' Inglis says that Schor was the architect of this church, and that he had assisted in building the Vatican.

exposed to view under the light streaming from a hundred silver candelabra, the air around perfumed by the flowers of a hundred silver vases. The procession was a splendid pageant, in which no expense seems to have been spared, the great empress herself, accompanied by her son, afterwards Joseph II., heading it. This was repeated-in a manner corresponding with the diminished magnificence of the age-in 1850, the Emperor Ferdinand I., the Empress Anna, and other members of the Imperial family, taking their part in it.*

The only remaining act of Leopold's reign which calls for mention in connection with Innsbruck, was the erection of the monument to Maximilian the Deutschmeister, in the Pfarrkirche, almost the only one that was spared when the church was rebuilt after the earthquake of 1667 and 1689, the others having been ruthlessly used-the head-stones in building up the walls, the bronze ones in the bell-castings.

(To be continued.)

R. H. B.

RECOLLECTIONS OF GEORGE PEABODY.

It was on Loch Katrine that we saw him first. Our little steamer was puffing on its way northwards from the Trossachs, and we were vainly peering after Ellen's Isle through a curtain of dense Scotch mist. Some of us were sitting in the cabin, with our faces glued to the little round windows, now hopelessly opaque from the streams running down them. But Annie, despite all injunctions, insisted on remaining on deck, to lose no possible glimpse of those poetic shores. At last, our boat stopped at the head of the lake; and here we remember a tall old man with white hair, a strongly made man, whom one could not overlook, making his way from the farther end of the cabin, attended by a gentleman considerably younger. We lost them here, for they went on by the coach; but, following later, we found them again at Inversnaid, where the tall old gentleman sat contentedly napping after the 'tea and eating,' as the waiters call it. He had no good cause for content: the chairs were wretchedly straight and stiff; and people were talking all around him. But he was evidently accustomed to take things as they came, and to make the best of them.

The morrow was a Sunday, very wet; not hopelessly wet, but gusty

It is painted on panel, thirty inches by twenty-one; the figure of our Lady is three quarter-length, but appears to be sitting, as the foot of the Divine Infant seems to rest upon her knee; and the tradition concerning it is, that it represents an episode of the Flight into Egypt, when, as the Holy Family rested under a palm-grove, they were overtaken by a band of robbers, headed by S. Demas, the (subsequently) penitent thief. The Holy Child is indeed represented clinging to His Mother-not as in fear, or even as if need were to suggest courage to her, but simply as if an attack sustained in common impelled a closer union of affection.

and wild, with dark clouds hanging about the hills, and on the opposite shore, and dyeing the central conical one of a dull strange purple. There was no church; only a little cottage meeting of Presbyterians at some distance. So we contented ourselves with reading the Psalms for the day, and then started for that long climb which will always remain so vividly in our memory: the thundering winds coming dashing and whirling upon us, with such sharp arrows of Highland rain, as made us cower under the lee side of the big stones, our only bit of shelter. It didn't matter that the grass was wet; our boots had long been no better than soaked sponges; and for the rest, we women were well wrapped in waterproofs. At the top we found a cairn, under which we rested. There are no words to recall the magnificence of those deep valleys, which fell on either hand, with the opposite hills all dashed with sudden gleams or sudden shadows. The gentlemen struck up Gounod's 'Nazareth;' the colour of the song was exactly the colour of the scene. And here we first realized to the full the charm of

Keble's hymn for the Twentieth Sunday after Trinity:

'Where is Thy favoured haunt, Eternal Voice ?'

and so on. We all know it.

Then we came down again, Annie running on before us; and on the turn above the inn, she saw a gentleman approaching, the younger of the twain whom we had noticed. He stopped, and spoke to Annie in a pleasant way, with the liberty which seems allowable on one's travels.

'I thought you were Lady Harriet S,' he said.

Annie wore a little red hood, and was walking with a sort of alpenstock, and altogether looked very outlandish. She did not think the mistake could be complimentary to Lady Harriet.

The gentleman went on talking about an odd stone he had seen by the road-side, and pointed it out, and communicated a little easy geology, and presently asked, 'Do you know the gentleman I am with?'

The tall old gentleman? No.'

'He is a man who has been talked about as much as anyone in this generation,' said the stranger.

'Oh, do tell me who he is!' begged Annie.

After heightening her curiosity a little, he answered with a name which Annie at first could make nothing of, mistaking it for 'Pibdy.' But light soon darted in upon her; and she found this was the American pronunciation for the name of the well-known benefactor. She was very glad, for there was no man living for whom she had a greater admiration. She began to think how she would like a word from him, and how improbable it was that she should have it, and whether she might venture to ask his friend to intercede for a shake of the hand, so that she might say, 'Sir, as an Englishwoman, I must