Imágenes de páginas

God-dam,' long after the solemn ser- repulsed by the sentinels; and, in provice of the church has begun. The portion as they are beaten back, the Vicegerent of God on earth in vain crowd from below increases. Some represents, the cross of peace in vain one hints that an opposite door leads shines above the high altar : tranquilli- to the foot tubs, or to the scaliolding ty is only restored when suffocation be- erected for seeing the Benediction. gins.

Instantly the torrent directs its course “The rites which all come to wit- in that channel, and is met by another ness, but to which none attend, are at crowd returning disappointed from the last finished. The procession of the same direction, where cross doors have sacrament to the Paoline Chapel, suc- been shut in their faces, and guards ceeds; and then comes the tug of have driven them back likewise. Then war.' Some rush forward, to get in the efforts to get up, and get down, to time to the adjoining chapel; others get in, and get out, produce consestay to witness the procession (d'ail- quences the most unsuitable to the solieurs, the same as that already de- lemnity of the season, and of the place, scribed at the Quirinal.) The Swiss Shoes are lost, veils are torn, ancles are sweep all before them to clear the pas- strained, shoulders dislocated, and ribs sages for the ceremony, without con- bruised; and those who escape uninsulting the wishes of any. Then the jured to the silent solitary nave of St. long file of priests, carrying lighted Peter's, and neither see the Pope wash torches, moves forward, followed by the feet, now the cardinals serve maccarocardinals, with their hands meekly ni to bungry beggars, are by far the folded on breasts dazzling with gold, best off. Here gradually assemble, while their wondering and inquiring and patiently wait, in tedious suspense eyes seem so say, “Is it only to see for the arrival of carriages, or in fretful us that you are all here. The Pope, anxiety for more venturous friends, supported by prelates, his meek head three-fourths of the multitude, who imperially canopied, his gorgeous train come so far to see so much, and who proudly borne, totters slowly after return having very literally seen noththem, chaunting from time to time ing, consoling themselves with the resome tremulous feeble notes, to which flection that though the pageantry of the rest respond in deep-toned chorus, Holy Thursday is lost, Good Friday until the whole procession passes into and Easter Sunday are yet to come. that immense vestibule, which serves The first anxiety on this occasion is to as an anti room to both chapels. The get in, the next to get out; and, during gates of the Paoline are thrown open, the whole day, the congregation are so and its dusky walls appear illuminated Occupied in taking care of their bodies, with thousands of tapers, twinkling in that, in spite of masses and processions, the rays of the noon-day sun, through no one ever gives one thought to the an atmosphere of smoke. Few are care of his soul.. able to enter the illuminated chapel, “On Good-Friday the turmoil is or to behold the deposition of the sa- something less, because there are fewcrament; and many who are informed er sights to see. This day of gloom of the program of the day, by endeav- and sacrifice, of fasting and mortificaouring to catch at all the ceremonies, tion, begins at the Vatican by a suscarcely attain to any.

perb and sumptuous dinner, given to 6. The desire of secing the Pope the conclave and the corps diplomawash the pilgrims' feet with the cardi- tique, &c. nals waiting on them at dinner, and of “ Thus prepared for the celebration beholding the Pope give the benedic of the Miserere, which follows the destion from the balcony, divide the at- sort, as a sort of chasse caffe, the guests tention and impede the efforts of the proceed to their places in the Sistine distracted sight-seer. A prelate in Chapel. The cardinals move procespontificalibus ascends a flight of stairs, sionally from the table to the altar, to guarded by soldiers : the whole tide of mark, learn, and inwardly digest ;' spectators flows after him; they are and with lips siill.moist with lacrymäe

Christi, chaunt the responses to the courts of little courtiers, (and less than seven penitential psalms. When the these never crawled upon the robes of last light is extinguished, and the last royalty ) take their station on the right; strain of the Miserere dies away, every on his left kneel the cardinals. one gropes as he can from the Sistine, “During this singular prostration on his way to St. Peter's. The bril- the most profound silence reigned. liant lightning of the colonnades, porti. The Pope seemed unfeignedly absorbcos, and staircases, the guards, the ed in holy abstraction; and as the crowds of pretty women and well- light fell upon his venerable head and dressed men, give to the splendid av- faded face, and tinged his flowing robes, enues the air of a court theatre, and there was something mystic and ideal imitate on a more magnificent scale, in his appearance; and to a faith the Palace of the Tuilleries.

which fancy had warmed, or fanati“ The Illuminated Cross of St. Pe- cism deranged, his translation from a ter's, and the adoration of the Pope mortal coil at that moment might have and cardinals, are the attractions of the appeared possible. evening. On this occasion, thousands In the centre of the church crowdof all ranks and countries pour into ed the beau monde of London, Paris, the church, where no tickets of admis- Vienna, and St. Petersburgh, laughing, sion are required; yet the mighty tem- flirting, chattering, and love-making, ple, made for the universe, still seems through all the philological varieties half empty. Many of the dim aisles which might be supposed to make a afford safe asylum for retiring piety, or conversazione in the tower of Babel. clandestine love; and the vastness of There vows were received that did the whole, contemplated through a not all belong to heaven, and oaths well-managed obscurity, seems to ex. were taken at the statue of St. Peter, tend beyond its usual limits, and to be at which Jove laughs, if Peter does lost in immeasurable distance. The not. hundred lamps, which in their bright “ There, too, Roman beauties, who brazen sockets burn day and night disdained the flaunting rites of noonround the sepulchre of St. Peter's are day ceremonial, moved in their long this day extinguished. A cross of black veils, to meet at the appointed flame suspended from the cupola, be- shrine some male devotee; and there, fore the baldachin of the high altar, in true sincerity of heart and faith, alone lights the immediate space over knelt within view of that cross, to which it hangs, and leaves all else in which alone her eyes are directed, one the majesty of darkness, here and there alike the world forgetting, by the faintly dispersed by a twinkling lamp. world forgot. Whole families of the That illuminated spot seemed like a middle classes were seated on the steps magic circle. It is hermetically closed of altars, or at the feet of monuments, by three files of armed men, and the gazing on the varied spectacle; and beams shed from the cross fall only on bands of peasantry breathing garlic and spears and bayonets. This space is aves, strutted every where about, pikept clear, and untouched by vulgar ously amused, and adding much to and unblessed fiet, that pontiffs, princes, the strangeness of the scene, whose and cardinals may, unmolested by ple- grotesque groupings they aptly filled up. beian penitence, offer up the “sacri. “As night thickens,' and St. Pefices of their contrite hearts. At ter's thins, the slow return of the vari. last, these “powers and principalities' ed multitude, and above all of the pilappear, accompanied by a guard, who grim bands and confraternities, afford clear a passage through the gathering a picturesque and curious addition to multitude. The troops that await the Good-Friday sights. These pilthem open their files, and close again grims are wretched ragged creatures. upon their precious charge. The Pope led on by some Roman lady of condifalls prostrate before the Cross, on tion, who, with the cross of her Recushions of down and velvet. The deemer in one hand and her French princes and princesses, with their little ridicule in the other, gives out the penitential stave as she moves along, and deck the pageant and to flaunt above is answered by the yell of her follow- the gaudy little colours of the Swiss ers. As their dark bands sweep along corps. the banks of the Tiber, and their red - In the centre of all, forming the torches flash on the walls of the castle inner circle, and crowding the steps of of St. Angelo, they raise the deep-ton- the church, are a multitude of common ed, and, when softened by distance, oc- people. The loggie above the portico casionally melodious psalmody, that are filled with the cardinals; and in with exquisite skill they suffer to die the centre, raised upon men's shoulders away along those waters over which high above all, like some dimly-seen Pagan priests have raised their "Io deity, and reduced almost to a speck Pæans,' or chaunted the funeral obse- by his elevation, appears the Pontiff. quies to the death of Adonis.

He is said to pray, but prays unheard; “ Saturday, unmarked by any impo- and when he rises to give the benedicsing ceremony, is passed in silence and tion, the act, scarce visible, is lawfully gloom. It images the descent of Christ announced by the tolling of the great into hell. But the eve of Easter Sun- bell of St. Peter's, and the firing of the day portends, by various festive exhi- cannon of St. Angelo. The military bitions, the joys and the triumphs of ground their arms, and drop on their the following day, and the termination knees; the cardinals fling down the of that long penance and privation church's indulgences among the people, which precede it. The shops of Rome who scarcely stooped to pick them up, are then gaily lighted; and the pizzi- though each was the remission of years caroli, the faithful allies of the church, of frailty. Drums beat, trumpets now offer food for meditation to the sound, the music plays, the troops file humgry devotees, whose long fasts are off, and the ceremony finishes at night about to be recompensed by repletion. with the illumination of the Vatican. In one shop we saw St. Paul irradiated « On Easter Monday a general rout by a glory of sausages; and in another ensues: “Give me a horse, my kingthe ill-boding bird of St. Peter, hung dom for a horse,' is the cry. Postup with the apostle it had warned in horses and vetturino-stands are on that vain; Madonnas curiously carved in day all that the Vatican and St. Peter's butter, and Bambinos in lard, warmed were the day before. Some fly for the devotion of the inward man; and amusement to the crater of Mount every eatable of plastic consistence, or Vesuvius, others to the abyss of Herof malleable form, was pressed into the culaneum; rendezvous are given among service of architectural decoration and the ruins of Palmyra, and parties are symbolic piety.

arranged among the cedars of Mount * On Easter Sunday the service is Lebanon; some return to seek hearts performed at St. Peter's, and it is then left at Florence or Genoa; and others that the church exhibits all its splen- who, amidst the affectation of virtu, dour, and exhibits its forces on a site and pretended admiration of a climate worthy their display. The spacious with which few are not disappointed, Piazza of St. Peter, its porticos and pant for the comforts of a British fire colonnades, its beautiful fountains, its side, turn their heads homewards, destupendous facade, glittering in the lighted to have seen Italy, and delightnoon-day sun, become the scene of ac- ed to leave it. The Roman matron is tion Above its marble walls rise fan- left to prepare her pizza de pasqua' tastic awnings, for the accommodation undisturbed by her restless lodgers; of the spectators, who at an early hour and the Roman existence resumes its crowd their elevated seats. The space monotony, its indolence, and its quiebelow is lined with infantry. The tude; with nothing to look to but the light horse, with their showy dresses, mal-aria, until 'le passage des hironform a line within. The Roman mili- delles' shall again bring a bevy of fortary standards, once the banners of eign visitants to the Porta del Popouniversal conquest, now only serve to lo.”

It is pictures like these which give says Marforio, 6 you will get no adthe very body of the times their form mittance.” “ Pardon me,” he rejoins, and pressure, that distinguish the ob- “ I have lately turned heretick." servations of intellectual and gifted per- The eagerness with which the Italsons from those of the common herd of ians begin to imitate our social institutravellers. Formerly the English tions, and to study our literature, is a thought they shewed their loyalty, more pleasing subject of reflection. In whenever they went abroad, by insult- Naples our language is studied almost ing the host, at the hazard of finishing as much as that of France; our newstheir days in a prison, ridiculing the papers find their way into its most enmiracles pretended to be worked by lightened circles, and the Marchese favourite saints or relics, and keeping Berio, distinguished still more by his their hats as firmly on their heads, and literary acquirements than by his rank their knees as stiff, on all occasions, and opulenee, has addressed Lord Bywhere the customs of the country they ron in an ode so replete with beauty might be in required them to kneel or and enthusiasm, as sufficiently proves be uncovered, as any of the staunchest how competent a judge he is of the adherents of quakerism could do in the merits of the noble bard whom he thus days of Charles II.; and this contempt apostrophizes in a strain of poetry litwas richly repaid by the hatred of the tle inferior to his own. The sight of Catholics, who looked upon their most these stanzas, which have not before solemn ceremonies to be polluted by been submitted to any other eyes than the presence of these island heretics, those of the author's private friends, is and rejoiced in all the fervour of pious one of the benefits which Lady Morzeal when they had an opportunity of gan's introduction into the literary cirshewing their Christian regard for the cles of Italy has enabled her to confer good of their souls by purifying their on her readers; and assuredly it is onbodies in this world with the holy fires ly doing her justice to say, that, she has which were typical of what they were given us more information on the actusupposed to deserve in the next. Now al state of society in that country at the case is altered: the best places, the the present moment, the alternate inmost imposing ceremonies are reserved fluence of France and Austria on its for the English, who gaze with com- manners and feelings, and the probaplacent civility upon the mummeries ble effects of the Holy Alliance and the which have long ceased to interest the revived order of things, that can be enlightened, who profess the faith of found in any of the numerous publicawhich they form the excrescences. tions which have made their appearLady Morgan remarks, that so few ance since peace has smoothed the way Italians of condition attended the cere for idleness and folly to lead their *monies described in these extracts, countless votaries over the continent, that it awakened the muse of Pasquin. to enrich foreigners with the property When asked by Marforio “ where he which they grudge proportioning any was going in his court-dress, he re- share of to the benefit of their own plies, “To the Vatican"_" But !" country.-New Mon.


Partook the universal calın,

When Buonaparte died.

THE mighty sun had just gone down

Into the chambers of the deep; The ocean birds had upward flown,

Each in his cave to sleep. And silent was the island shore,

And breathless all the broad red sea,
And motionless beside the door

Our solitary tree.
Our only tree, our ancient palm,

Whose shadow sleeps our door beside,

An ancient man, a stately man.

Came forth beneath the spreading tree, His silent thoughts I could not scan,

His tears I needs must see.

A trembling hand had partly cover'd

The old man's weeping countenance, Yet something o'er his sorrow bover'd

That spake of War and France ;

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Something that spake of other days,

When trumpets pierced the kindling air, And the keen eye could firmly gaze

Through battle's crimson glare. Said I, perchance this faded hand, When Life beat high, and Hope was

young, By Lodi's wave-on Syria's sand

The bolt of death hath flung. Young Buonaparte's battle cry

Perchance hath kindled this old cheek ; It is no shame that he should sigh,

His heart is like to break. He bath been with him, young and old ;

He climb'd with him the Alpine Snow;
He heard the cannon when they rollid

Along the silver Po.
His soul was as a sword, to leap

At his accustoin'd leader's word ;
I love to see the old man weep,-

He knew no other lord.
As if it were but yesternight,

This man remembers dark Eylau,-
His dreams are of the Eagle's flight,

Victorious long ago.
The memories of worser time

Are all as shadows unto him ;
Fresh stands the picture of his prime,-

The later trace is dim.

He had put harness on to die,

The eagle-star shone on his breast,
His sword lay bare his pillow nigh,

The sword he liked the best.
But calm--most calm was all his face,

A solemn smile was on his lips,
His eyes were clos'd in pensive grace-

A most serene eclipse !
Ye would have said some sainted sprite

Had left its passionless abode,-
Some man, whose prayer at morn and night

Had duly risen to God,

What thoughts had calm’d his dying breast

(For calm he died) cannot be known ; Nor would I wound a warrior's rest

Farewell, Napoleon ! No sculptured pile our hands shall rear;

Thy simple sod the stream shall lave, The native Holly's leaf severe

Shall grace and guard thy grave. The Eagle stooping from the sky

Shall fold his wing and rest him here, And sunwards gaze with glowing eye From Buonaparte's Bier.

Blackwood's Ed. Mag.

I enter'd, and I saw him lie

Within the chamber, all alone,


Last tears in silence shed,
Last words hall uttered,

Last looks of dying friends.

THOSE few pale autumn flowers,

How beautiful they are !
Than all that went before,
Than all the summer store,

How lovelier far !
And why ?-They are the last !

The last! the last! the last!
Oh! by that little word,
How many thoughts are stirr’d;

That sister of the past !

Pale flowers! pale perishing flowers !

Ye're types of precious things; Types of those bitter moments, That flit like life's enjoyments,

On rapid, rapid wings.

Who but would fain compress

A life into a day,
The last day spent with one
Who, e'er the morrow's sun,

Must leave us, and for aye? Oh, precious, precious moments !

Pale flowers ! ye're types of those ; The saddest ! sweetest ! dearest! Because, like those, the nearest

To an eternal close.
Pale flowers ! pale perishing flowers !

I woo your gentle breath
I leave the summer rose
For younger, blither brows;

Tell me of change and death.

Last hours with parting dear ones,

(That time the fastest spends)

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