am more than ever tempted to lay down my pen, and with it, the vain hope of doing justice by description to what we have seen. Yet, as often

as I resolve to try no more, I feel a twinge of self-reproach, for withholding even the faint image of our daily enjoyments, which may, perchance, pass from mind to mind, even in my feeble words. And so I go on journalizing from day to day, not quite certain whether I am indulging you or myself. However, as I am nearly bewildered by the multiplicity of beautiful objects contained in this Villa Albani, you will be spared any very detailed account of them. Let me assure you, on the best authority, that I could say many grand things of them, if my pen would but only become a more faithful translator of my thoughts-it has been but a sorry one hitherto.

The portico is supported by fortyfour noble columns, its walls covered with bas reliefs, some of rare excellence-statues of emperors, canephoræ, sphinxes, &c. line the sides; and, at one end, is a fine figure of Juno, in the act of moving through the air, the feet poised, the drapery gently floating behind her stately form, as she glides along. The staircase boasts of some of the finest relievi in existenceRome triumphant, &c. &c. of colossal masks, mosaics, paintings; each step seeming to lead to some work more precious than the preceding, till we reach the saloons above. In these, though every object seems almost perfect of its kind, I can but name a few.

There is a collection of bronzes, which comprises the famed Apollo Sauroctonos, the most admired bronze of antiquity, a Hercules Farnese, faun, Diana, &c. The inestimable relievo of Antinous, with the same expression of mournful and almost feminine beauty which distinguishes the busts, is placed over one of the chimneypieces. A noble gallery, with a floor of beautiful marbles, and a ceiling of the best frescos of Raphael Mengs, is enriched by a majestic statue of Jupiter, and a Minerva, the finest in the world, said to be the sole monument in Rome of the "sublime style," which attained its perfection in the period between Phidiasand Praxiteles. On the ground-floor, again, are other galleries, filled with the noblest works of

art. Hermes of poets, philosophers, and emperors-busts of gods, heroes, and sages-sarcophagi for the dead, sculptured with exquisite representations of the rites and festivals of the living-a marble vase or basin, on which are recorded the labours of Hercules a relievo, in Rosso antico, of Daedalus and Icarus; and other countless treasures, which I may not venture to name. Two busts I must except a Jupiter, the only one I have seen which embodies all the grandest attributes of the Grecian god, and a Serapis, in basalt, combining, by some strange mystery, the opposite qualities of singular mildness with commanding power and majesty of expression. If you cannot understand how this can be, come and see.

When I tell you that the walls of one saloon were formerly adorned with cameos, inserted into the panels, you will assuredly think some obedient genii, or willing slave of the lamp, lent his assistance to the Cardinal Albani, in the arrangement and decoration of this almost magic palace of

taste.

And, besides all these beautiful things, I could tell of adjoining buildings connected with the villa, which also contain works of great excellence, though inferior to those in the saloons,

but I will spare you. I forgot, however, to tell you we did not see the cameos, which were carried away, it is said, by the French, who, in all the the dilapidations of this country, fill the part so liberally assigned to Cromwell in ours. Is there a single castle in ruins, in the three kingdoms, which the Protector" has not the merit of demolishing? Here it is whispered, however, that the confusion of war, and the unjustifiable spoliation of the French, gave opportunities, not neglected by noble families, to increase their revenues by the sale of parts of their collections. I do not know if this was the fate of the cameos. Very pretty casts in stucco supply their places, and feebly tell how beautiful the originals must have

been.

I have missed the post-day, (three in the week) while expatiating on the wonders of the Villa Albani. And now, having made you a victim to Art, let me refresh you by a touch of Nature-one of the rarest sights in a country where we might expect her to

reign supreme. To our great pleasure, we found her in the gardens (park we should call it) attached to the Borghese villa, where the noble ilex, cypress, pine, and fine evergreen shrubs are allowed to remain as Nature formed them-tall, spreading, and majestic.

There is a genuine spirit of kindness shown by the noble proprietor, in throwing open such grounds as these, unreservedly to the lower classes, with whom they are a favourite place of evening recreation; and while the evenings were warm, as on our first arrival, the shade of the trees was delightful. I am sorry to say we have few of them now, and the poor, mosscovered naiads and river-gods look rueful and disconsolate enough, in the midst of the make-believe lakes and rivers of the "English garden" of the Borghese.

Tell E. the climate of his beautiful

Italy is sometimes variable like our own in spring; and people talk here, as with us, of the seasons being changed; just now we find the blaze of our wood fire more reviving than the shade of the cypress and ilex, and court every sunbeam, which the tall houses and palaces allow to penetrate into the narrow streets. We do not like yet to be convinced that we are doomed to leave Rome for Naples, without seeing the Colosseum by moonlight. I whisper it now as a source of comfort to a poor mortal like you, whose anti-poetic ideas of moonlit visits are so inseparably associated with colds, rheumatisms, and all the horrors of the north, that you will rejoice in our escape, rather than sympathize in our disappointment. Hoping you will one day be converted from this error, by the soft breezes of Italy, and that I may be here to see it, I bid you, for the present, farewell.

A FULL-LENGTH portrait of Hildebrand, by an accomplished artist of the new Oxford school!! A valuable offering indeed, and well worthy of being studied for the execution as well as for

the subject. We do not think of it altogether so highly as the late Rev. James Dunne, of honoured memory, esteemed the greatest effort of Demosthenes. "Remember," said he, to one who lamented the battle of Cheronca, "were it not for that disastrous day, we should not have had the oration on the crown." We do not say that Mr. Bowden's work makes atonement for all the evils chargeable, and charged, upon the "Tracts for the Times ;" but we hold it, nevertheless, a contribution to our ecclesiastical literature which ought to be gratefully accepted. It is a well-written life of a great pope; and it is not the less acceptable to us, because the spirit in which it is composed, qualified as it is by that sense of honour and that love of truth for which the birth and breeding of an English gentleman should be a voucher,

We are strongly disposed to believe that, from a work composed in such a spirit, the character of Gregory, and perhaps of his times, may better be learned, than from the writings of those to whom that bold pontiff's aims are no less objectionable than the means by which he strove to attain them. They who ardently admire the efforts of Hildebrand to rescue the church from a state of dependancewho approve, or at least abstain from censuring, his ambition to attain ascendancy above the secular power-will not be disposed to admit, on dubious evidence, the charge that he employed unsanctified means for the attainment of the good end he sought; while, at the same time, a habitual love of truth will not be biassed by partiality, however strong, to receive evidence, or to reject it, in a manner glaringly unjust.

The sympathies of Mr. Bowden, it is evident, are all on the side of the pope, in his arduous conflict with the

secular powers. Indeed, it would seem as if the school to which this writer belongs, regard Gregory much more in the light of a model to imitate, than as an example, by whose evil deeds and evil fortunes they should feel warned against his principles and designs. The Oxford party, no less than the Roman pontiff, had to complain of wrong and contumely inflicted on the church: they too felt an earnest and an elevating desire to deliver a sacred ministration from an oppression which profaned it: they felt, therefore, esteem and respect for exertions which they could ascribe to virtuous motives; but they should beware of imitating them. Even were we to "waive the quantum of the sin," we should warn against its consequences. Much evil would be sure to follow; and unless they who had recourse to it succeeded in reducing the mind of England, indeed of Europe, to the condition in which it was at the time of the first crusade, the looked-for good would escape them.

But it is unnecessary to warn the authors of "Tracts for the Times" against an imitation in which their dispositions and principles render it impossible that they could persevere. The success of Romanism in her great enterprises was owing not less to her crimes than to her wisdom and stead

fastness of purpose. Would Mr. Pusey or Mr., Newman consent to accomplish any design by letting loose the passions which Rome unchained, or advocating the principles which, when it served her interests, she consecrated? Would they put down dissent by the racks and dungeons of the inquisition? Would they hunt out prayer meetings with fire and sword? Would they oppose to the unwise edicts of the legislature-to what they felt, or thought to be, an injurious exercise of the royal will-the arts and arms to which Romanism had recourse when she declared the allegiance of subjects forfeited, their sworn engagements annulled, and treason to their Sovereign the duty which God most imperatively enjoined? Upon such iniquities as these, the aims of Romanism frequently constrained her to place reliance. We do not fear that Englishmen, of upright lives, will imitate her in the commission of them.

It may be, however, that, without the remotest intention of walking in

the guilty ways of the Roman church, good men shall desire to profit by the light of her worldly wisdom. Principles of church government, such as would be thought unexceptionable at the court of Gregory VII. or Innocent III., may now be associated with opinions, not only such as moderate men might approve, but such as would win favour in the most liberal democracy. A little before the Oxford movement in England, La Mennais arose in France. Here amongst us, the war proclaimed by the then provisional government of the Whigs, against the church, called forth a high resolution to meet it. In France, something like a war was alleged by La Mennais to justify his bold propositions. The government of Louis XVIII. had slighted the church; that of Charles X. was incapable to do it honour. From the government of Louis Philippe there was little favour to be expected. La Mennais resolved upon an appeal to the people. To render his appeal effectual, he seasoned ecclesiastical domination with political liberalism. In things spiritual, the world was to know but one will, that of the pope; in politics, thought and speech were to be wholly unrestrained. Even in religious matters, there was to be freedom: the doctrine should be earnestly inculcated that there was no truth but that which the pope approved; yet if men of perverse or intractable judgment could not, or would not, be convinced, they were to be suffered to retain the error, as they could not be persuaded to abandon it. By such appliances, La Mennais hoped he could unite the people of all Christian countries throughout Europe into a great confederation, of which Roman Catholic priests would be the directors, the pope the chief, and monarchs and aristocracies the recognised enemies. La Mennais has been, so far as papal power extends, put down by the pope; not because he would set the church in hostile array against the secular power, but because he would recognise the right of conscience, and the freedom of the press, and guarantee them to all individuals and communities. The principles of La Mennais have not been put down, but are even now active and effectual, extending in all directions through the Roman Catholic priesthood, and, without casting out the immitigable intolerance of their religion, imparting to

it a less menacing and repulsive appearance. But we would warn the Oxford party that they do not suffer a fair face to deceive them. The smoothness of the ocean is not more deceptive. He who sits on the lofty throne of the papacy, can at any moment ruffle the still surface of Romanism, and agitate its depths into a tempestuous fury.

"Heu quoties fidem
Mutatosque Deos flebit, et aspera
Nigris æquora ventis
Emerabitur insolens,

Qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea,
Qui semper vacuam, semper amabilem
Sperat, nescius auræ
Fallacis !"

There is a peculiarity in the character of Romanism for which too little allowance is made, and without a due remembrance of which the history of that system cannot be studied with advantage. A conscience, it is said, forms no part of the constitution of any public body. Corporations are insensible to remorse and shame. There is a sense in which this may be true, but nature provides against the evil effects of it. The individuals of whom the corporation consists are not destitute of conscience; their sense of responsibility and wrong, their feelings of compunction, will serve as a light to the system, which otherwise would be a moral monster. Romanism is not thus provided. Without a conscience herself, it is her grand principle that individual conscientiousness shall be cauterized. Her interest is the great object upon which all her members must set their hearts-accounting nothing right which can prove injurious to it nothing wrong by which it can be promoted. In such a system, it is very unsafe for any but those who understand its vices to seek instruction.

We view, therefore, with some alarm the too great confidence with which the authors of the "Tracts for the Times" look towards Romanism as an instructor or an ally. They seem to us somewhat in the condition of those attendants upon Hildebrand, who, in spite of many warnings and much good advice, ventured to read in their master's books. Hildebrand was, it may be remembered, although Mr. Bowden does not insist upon it, a necromancer of more than ordinary power and reputation. He was seldom with

out his books of mystery; but regretted, once, their absence when mighty works were to be performed. According to the necessities upon which the story is based, there was no resource but that of sending for the forgotten volumes, and this momentous commission was entrusted to two favoured youths, who departed from the presence of their sage preceptor, fortified with many earnest recommendations to hold their curiosity under check, and the books of the great magician under the moral seal of fidelity and discretion. When the young messengers received the books, they forgot the instructions of their master-they forgot their own discretion and their faith: they opened the mystic pages, and gazed upon them with wonder, and without understanding. But there were others who understood. The heavens grew dark—the air was troubled the earth was shakenand terrible forms of angry spirits menaced the affrighted youths with the consequences which their precipitancy provoked. "You have invoked us,' was their menacing cry," employ us." In their extremity of dread, the youths, as they fled to Gregory's protection, gave a command. It was"Destroy these walls"-the walls of lofty Rome.

:

The order was obeyed;-the walls were prostrated; and because young men read, without understanding, the conjurer's books, "the eternal city" was reft of its necessary protection. It is in truth, a perilous thing for any not duly qualified to study the books of a magician none but brethren of the art should dare to read in them. In the Oxford party, there are surely some, as recent incidents have proved, who are not conjurers. How earnestly it is to be desired, that if, in their reading of Hildebrand's books, they are af frighted and disturbed, they do not invert the order which their agitated predecessors gave, and employ the unholy spirits which they have raised, in building up again the fallen walls of

Rome.

Whether any such walls, in a literal sense, existed in the times of which Mr. Bowden has written his interesting history, it is certain that, figuratively speaking, the walls of the Church of Rome were in a very dilapidated condition. The pontificate had attained too high an eminence of wealth, and splendour, and power, not to have become

an object of desire for its secular advantages. The consequence was, that for nearly two centuries popes were introduced into the Roman bishopric without any consideration of their competency to discharge the high duties of such an office. In the forcible language of Baronius, the popes of those days were monsters ;-profligate women or tyrants, without respect for God's law or man's interest, set up their accomplices or their creatures in authority over a church which was vexed with many storms. The complaints of Roman Catholic writers to this effect are well known: their argument, too, has acquired a deserved notoriety-that in which they prove the presence of Christ in his church, from the fact that it was not destroyed by the enormities of its chief pastors. Had Christ not been on board, (although it is confessed he was sleeping,) the ship must have sunk-" Dormiebat inquam qui ista non videre dissimulans, sineret sic fieri, dum non exurgeret vindex. Et quod deterius videbatur, deerant qui Dominum sic dormientem clamoribus excitarent discipuli, stertentibus omnibus. Cur non mersa? cur non vortice maris absorta? Quia Christus semper est inventus in illa. Quia in ipsa, licet dormiens Christus erat." Such is the cardinal's argument. The church could not have supported the vices of its popes the ship could not have outlived the storm, if Christ had not been within it. "Never," observes Southey,* "was the porporato more unfortunate in a metaphor; for, in the age whereof he writes, his church was not assailed by any temporal enemies; and as for heretical opinions, there was not even a breath to break the dead and pestilential calm. The danger was wholly from the rioting and furious drunkenness of the crew. And when this cardinal applied to the papacy that promise which was made to the church of Christ, that the gates of hell should not prevail against it, had he no secret whisperings, no inward consciousness that from this quarter it had nothing to apprehend, for Satan is not divided against himself."

*

changes, and with whose name and enterprises the world was to be filled and agitated, had his birth in a little village in Tuscany, of parents among the lowliest in condition.

"The date," writes Mr. Bowden, "of his birth is unrecorded; but from the indications afforded by different passages of his history, it would seem probable that that event took place between the years 1010 and 1020. Nor is it quite clear either where he first saw the light or from what parents he derived his origin. But the most probable account of these points seems to be that which designates as his birth-place the town of Soano, on the southern borders of Tuscany, and which ascribes to his father the name of Benigo, and the humble occupation of a carpenter. And, even if this statement should be, in its detail, inaccurate, we seem to have no good grounds for doubting that the main impression which it conveys is correct, and that the parentage of Hildebrand was mean and undistinguished; though some of his historians, ashamed of this meanness of extraction, have endeavoured to connect him with the noble family of Aldobrandini. He was soon, however, removed from the paternal roof, to a fitter scene of preparation for the toils and duties which awaited him. An uncle filled, during the period of his childhood, the situation of abbot of the monastery of St. Mary, on the Aventine Hill, at Rome; a relative, who may probably be identified with Laurence, the Archbishop of Amalfi, already mentioned, unquestionably a patron and preceptor of Hildebrand; and, under the auspices of this person, he received an education in the bosom of that church, which he was destined to defend so conspicuously, rapidly acquiring a knowledge of what were then styled the liberal sciences, and exhibiting from his earliest years the rudiments of that devotional temperament which in after life so strikingly characterized him. He was, says one of his annalists, a monk from his boyhood; his life, from its very commencement was one of abstinence, mortifica tion, and self-command.

"Arrived at man's estate, he under took a journey across the Alps. Disgusted with the general laxity of manners which, during the dark period of which we have been treating, prevailed at Rome, he perhaps wished to perfect his habits of discipline, by association with purer and stricter fraternities than those with which he was familiar; for we find that he fixed his residence for