human beings reduced to mere specks so many hundred feet below me.

But we had not yet completed our undertaking. We had still to penetrate the ball. Considering its appearance from the ground, we at first thought that it would not contain more than one or two persons, but were surprised to find that our whole party, which was twelve in number, could enter without the least inconvenience.

The same day we descended into the crypt, where we visited the shrine of the Apostles. So vast are the substructions of this mighty church, that it is said there is actually more material unseen below the surface of the ground than in the parts above which meet the eye.

On another occasion I visited the sacristy, which in itself is a very splendid edifice. Here I saw the gorgeous vestments of the pope,-the Dalmatica worn by Leo III. at the coronation of Charlemagne, over a thousand years ago, the golden rose, which is blessed on the midSunday of Lent, and sent as a present to some Catholic sovereign, the costly altar-plate, and many other rich and interesting objects, of which I cannot attempt a catalogue here.

Thus I had "done," in tourist phraseology, the whole of St. Peter's. I did not, however, limit my visits to those I have mentioned. I have seen St. Peter's under every variety of circumstance,-when like a garment it wore the beauty of the morning,—when the sweet vesper song floated solemn through its vast extent,-when it was clad in the awful grandeur of night,—and when bathed in the brightness of the mid-day sun. I have

seen it when not a single individual paced its pavement, and when it was filled with all the pomp of the papal court, and the Roman hierarchy. I have seen it on days of humiliation, when the cardinals came in mourning robes to pray before its altars; and on days of triumph, when the imposing ceremonies of the Catholic Church had collected within its sacred precincts a vast crowd from every nation of the earth. I have seen it when the thrilling supplication of the far-famed "Miserere" wailed through its length and breadth, and when the joyous blast of the silver trumpets re-echoed through the dome. I have seen it from all the most advantageous points de vue within the city; from the tower of the Capitol, the front of the Quirinal Palace, the bridge of St. Angelo, the villa Pamfili Doria, and the public promenade on Monte Pincio; and I have seen it at the greatest distances from the hills of Baccano on the north, from the lower Apennines on the east, from the volcanic ridges of the Alban Mount on the south, and from the masthead of a ship at sea on the west,distances so great that "the seven hills" themselves are scarcely more perceptible than distant waves, and the solitary dome alone meets the eye.

The best point of view, however, is that obtained from the Pincian Hill; and the best moment for enjoying it is towards sunset, as the dark mass then projects a bold and graceful outline against the bright western sky, and the horizontal rays of the sun piercing through and brilliantly lighting up the windows of the lantern produce quite a magical effect.

But the most gorgeous effect of all is that obtained

by the illumination of the church. At one hour of the night, in Italian time, or an hour after sunset, the whole splendid edifice is instantaneously lighted by four thousand lamps and two thousand fire-cups, and the glorious dome is converted into a hemisphere of liquid light. About an hour later every eye is watchful-scarce a sound is heard-anxious expectation is marked in every face-at length, boom! boom! goes the cannon, and in a moment every light on St. Peter's has changed its colour, and the deep golden hue it has assumed looks rich beyond description in the falling night. A murmur of applause bursts from the vast and varied concourse that fills the square. Awhile every tongue is loud in expressions of admiration. For a moment guttural German alternates with terse French in accents of delight, and sonorous Spanish mingles with mellifluous Italian in exclamations of surprise. And then the great crowd moves slowly off to enjoy the view from every possible elevation within and without the walls of the city.

A great inducement to make frequent visits to St. Peter's is the delightful temperature of the air within its vast enclosure,-it is cool in summer, and comfortably warm in winter; it is, in fact, almost invariable. Nothing can well be more exquisite than to escape on a hot summer's day from the streets of Rome, the glaring light and oppressive heat, and to seek refuge in the cool atmosphere of St. Peter's. And the winter at Rome is sometimes sufficiently severe to enhance the value of its mild and genial temperature at that season also. A similar advantage is enjoyed in

most of the great churches in the south of Europe, but in none to such a degree as in St. Peter's, where a perpetual spring may be said to reign. Nor is this produced by any actively artificial means: there are no fires or other modes of warming in winter, and there are no peculiar processes for ventilating or otherwise cooling in summer. It arises solely from the enormous thickness and solidity of the walls throughout; from the comparatively few and small apertures communicating with the external atmosphere; and from the immense bulk of the air inclosed within the temple that neither parts with nor receives heat in sufficient quantity to affect in any perceptible degree the equability of its temperature.

In a brief sketch like this, I cannot enter on any of the architectural details. Criticism has detected some minor faults, of which the greatest is the heavy structure of the façade, which more than half hides the cupola from the spectator in the square. But absolute perfection is not a faculty of man. As it is, however, a visit to St. Peter's is an exquisite pleasure, and one calculated to improve and elevate the soul of man. "No work of man," says Count Stolberg, "ever seized upon and filled my mind like this." Here, Byron says, the mind grows colossal,

"Expanded by the glories of the spot."

20

CHAPTER III.

A WALK TO THE COLISEUM.

The Coliseum-Admiration of this glorious ruin-Comparison with St. Peter's-Walk from my hotel-The Gesù-Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus-Now occupied by the Church and Convent of the Ara Cœli -The Bambino-The Capitol-The Forum-Ruins of the Imperial Palace-Basilica of Constantine-Reflections-Arch of Titus-Arch of Constantine-Meta Sudans-The Coliseum-A few figures-Some description of the building-Fine masonry-Obligation to the Popes for the preservation of this noble Monument-Admirable idea of Pius IX-The Arena-Reflections-Wild beasts-Human victimsBull-feast in the Fourteenth Century-The Coliseum placed under the protection of the Holy Martyrs-Various purposes to which it has been converted-Its present state-Origin of its name.

THE next great object of attraction was the Coliseum, the noblest and most stupendous work of the kind that antiquity can boast. I was not long in Rome when I paid my first visit to this magnificent amphitheatre; and though I had long before learned from Ammianus that "the human eye scarcely measures its height," no idea I had formed of it, however great, was for a moment disappointed. As I approached the majestic ruin, I was filled with no other feeling than the most unbounded admiration of the sublime spectacle that stood before me. Never before was my mind so suddenly and enduringly struck with the grandeur of any single object. St. Peter's is a prouder achievement of architectural skill, but it requires time to comprehend