A VISIT TO ST. PETER'S AT ROME. 441 



with such unyielding perseverance ! the more so, as some of them 

 seem really to be in want, and we cannot help pitying them, at the 

 same time that they are teasing us ; a fat, sturdy beggar is very en- 

 tertaining, and may occasionally serve to make one laugh, but I hate 

 the sight of a poor, starving wretch, who really does appear to be in 

 misery. And what a variety of nations there seems to be among: 

 them ! " Seyn Sie so barmherzig, mein Herr ; mein Vater ist krank,'' 

 whispers a fair-haired little boy, with broad cheek bones and blue 

 eyes. "Per 1'amor di Dio, caro signore, datemi qualche cosa! 

 Eccelenza! un bajocco, Eccelenza!" howls a yellow complexioned 

 woman, with one child at her breast, and two others holding by her 

 apron. "Charite! Monsieur; s'il vous plait, Monsieur, charite!" 

 supplicates an upright, military -looking old man. Well, thank 

 heaven, we have not seen an English face, nor heard an English 

 voice among this motley train of applicants, and I sincerely hope, 

 for the honour of our nation, that we never shall ! Come, let us step 

 quickly on, out of the reach of this wretched squad. We are too 

 close under the building to see any thing of its architecture, so let 

 us march directly up the slope, and enter. And now that we are safe 

 within the vestibule, we shall soon get rid of our troublesome attend- 

 ants. It is of no use attempting to send them off* by relieving them, 

 for a fresh crowd will immediately succeed ; and those you have 

 already fed will remain, if it be only for the pleasure of having a 

 good stare at you. Don't throw away your bajocchi so fruitlessly, 

 you might as well attempt to satisfy a swarm of Indian locusts, but 

 come at once into the body of the church : there at least they cannot 

 follow us. I will lift up for you the thickly-padded leather curtain, 

 which hangs in the doorway. What a rush of air into the building, 

 is there not? There, step in, look about you, and I will leave you 

 to yourself for a few minutes. 



And now, Sir, tell me, if you please, what strikes you most in all 

 this vast assemblage of wonders. Ah ! I see by your eye that it is 

 not the magnitude of the edifice, nor the gilded roof, nor the marble 

 columns, nor the mosaic pictures, nor the soft streaming light, nor the 

 tempered atmosphere, but, it is that tall, black, grisly idol,* seated, like 

 a mocking fiend, upon his throne of state, as if he were the presiding 

 demon of the place ! Before him are the ever burning lamps that 

 encircle that hollow vault, the tomb of St. Peter, which, how magnifi~ 

 cent soever it may be, to me seems yawning like a pit of destruction. 

 Mark ! how his votaries approach singly, in reverential files, to bend 

 the knee, and bow the forehead, and mutter the prayer, and kiss 



* In using the word <e Idol," the writer of these pages begs it to be understood that 

 he by no means intends by it to imply the charge of idolatry against those whose con- 

 sciences may lead them to pay reverence to this image of St. Peter, as he well knows 

 that such an accusation would be indignantly repelled by every Roman Catholic divine 

 in Italy. He is fully aware of the distinction that is drawn between " divine adoration" 

 and the " relative honour given to creatures ;" and though he must confess his own in- 

 ability to understand it, he would be sorry to insult those to whom it may be intelligi- 

 ble. But impressions, not doctrines are the subject of the present article ; and to all 

 who have not been inured to such spectacles from their infancy, the statue of St. Peter 

 will at first sight appear to be what it is here styled an idol. 



