A VISIT TO ST. PETER'S AT ROME. 443 



canes, and laced liveries. You and I could not really open our 

 hearts to the Deity in the midst of such a state paraphernalia ; and I 

 believe most people, Englishmen at least, would be of our opinion. 

 Observe how delicately his running footman wipes with a towel the 

 foot of the statue, which has just been sullied by vulgar lips ; and 

 note, after he has kissed the toe of St. Peter, with what regularity 

 each of his train follow according to their precedence, and repeat his 

 motions. Mark also with what address the purple-vested trainbearer 

 manages the twisted roll of scarlet drapery as his Eminence proceeds 

 from station to station. It must be an unhappy life after all, that of a 

 Cardinal, to have every motion so cramped and restrained by etiquette 

 that he cannot even enter a church and pray to the Almighty without 

 having a suite of hangers-on, of attendants, of domestic spies con- 

 stantly pursuing him, and tracking his footsteps. To some men, who 

 are unbroken to restraint, what a life of misery would this be. But 

 old age loves respect ; and by constant habit the daily incense of this 

 worship and eye-service may become as necessary as the vital air we 

 breathe. 



" Ah ! well this talk may be all very fine," says the visitor to St. 

 Peter's, getting a little tired of the cicerone, as well as of the Cardi- 

 nal, " but it is excessively dull, and has a great tendency to set me 

 yawning. You make but a very poor guide to the lions, and unless 

 you become a little more lively, I certainly shall not think of recom- 

 mending you to my friends, and you will not make a fortune by your 

 profession. Come, brush up, my man, and tell us something funny! 

 Is there no good joke about the Pope, or some nice little story con- 

 cerning the Cardinals that is worth hearing ?" 



" No, Sir, no ; I don't recollect any thing of the kind, or if I do, 

 I am prudent enough to say nothing about it. Did you never hear that 

 there were such things as spies in Rome ? Did you ever stop to look 

 at Punch, or listen to a ballad-singer in the streets, without observing 

 that a priest or a friar had slyly insinuated himself into the crowd ' 

 And why has that old gentleman, who now is peeping at us so ear- 

 nestly through his eyeglass, been listening to our conversation for 

 the last five minutes, ' giudizio, Signore giudizio ?'' ' 



" But we are talking English. They surely cannot understand 

 that, and therefore we are safe." 



" Pardon, Monsieur, no such thing. Have you noticed those con- 

 fessional boxes placed at regular intervals against the wall ? And 

 have you remarked that they are labelled English, French, Polish, Ar- 

 menian, and so forth, that every nation of the civilized globe may re- 

 veal their backslidings in their mother tongue ? If the holy church 

 have confessors for all languages, why may she not have spies also ?" 

 " But surely no Englishmen are settled at Rome in the character 



of " 



" Suspend your judgment, Sir, for one moment, and wait till those 

 rosy-cheeked, sackcloth-covered, rope-encircled friars have waddled 

 past us. What is it they are saying to each other ?" 



" Be aisy, now, honey, be aisy, I tell ye and hould your tongue 

 till I tell ye all about it." 



" There, Sir, you see, are two shaven crowns, who, if they had 



