accepted, with all their discrepancy, by a certain
emperor of our time. The great saints, too,
must not be forgotten. Augustine and
Chrysostom and Jerome, and many world-wide names
who journeyed here to pray, to perform penance,
to fulfil vows, or to receive honours.

Streams of people were spread over the piazza,
and, mounting the steps, were engulfed by the
great portals of that vast hall which never is full.
We entered; the golden mellow light of morning
subdued the too glaring details of the florid
architecture. The church was in grand gala,
the walls and pillars draped with red and gold,
assimilating harmoniously with the brilliant
coloured marbles and mosaics. The cupola,
rising like a firmament in height and
magnitude, shone in the slanting rays of the morning
sun the angels, saints, and prophets,
emblazoned in bright colours on the golden frescoes.
Beneath, the altar was spread with the costliest
vessels of gold, chalices, cups, salvers, and
crosses carved by the hands of Cellini or
Bramanti, all radiant with sparkling jewels.

On either side were the enclosures prepared
for the ladies, who came habited in black veils and
dresses; but instead of the irreverent Easter
crowd-rushing, and pushing, and laughing, and
talking, as if entering an opera-house, the seats
were thinly occupied by a sprinkling of ladies,
whose devout looks showed that they came to
pray and not to stare. The tribune behind the
high altar was hung with crimson, and to the left
stood a throne prepared for the Pope. Down the
central aisle an avenue was formed by the civic
guard and the quaint Swiss soldiers, along which
His Holiness was to pass. We were scarcely
settled, when a hush and a general motion of
expectation announced that the Pope had arrived at
the central door. Slowly and silently the magnificent
procession passed up towards the tribune.
First came the Swiss guards, and chamberlain
in red silk. Then Pius, seated on the "gestorial"
chair or throne, glittering with gold, purple, and
crimson, wearing his triple crown, and habited
in robes of white. Over him was borne a dais
of crimson and gold, while beside him were
carried two great fans of peacock's feathers, as
typical of immortality. There is a look of
Eastern magnificence about these fans extremely
striking. The Pope, calm and majestic in his
bearing, dispensed blessings as he passed with
the air of one rapt in deep devotion. He was
followed by the entire Sacred College, all aglow
with crimson and guipure lace, a sight calculated
to break any lady's heart on the score of
misplaced finery. Chaplains, secretaries, and
chamberlains (mere minnows to these ecclesiastical
Tritons) fluttered in their rear, followed by files
of the superbly-dressed Guardia Nobile, all
picked men, tall, graceful, and handsome,
disciplined in the encounters of social warfare and
"carpet knighthood," now gorgeous in glistening
helmets, short scarlet mantles, and a generally
classic air, reminding one of Pollio in Norma,
whose general line of conduct, as well as outward
costume, they are said to emulate. The Pope was
now seated on his throne, and the mass begun.

It is to my mind a fatal want in the otherwise
noble ceremonial of the Papal mass at St. Peter's,
that the music is entirely vocal, an organ being
thought to be undignified in the Pope's presence.
Part-singing, however perfect, is monotonous.
The Pope's famous choir are invisible, caged like
singing-birds in a golden latticed gallery. The
Gregorian chant, which, although admirable as
mediæval music, becomes wearisome after two
hours' duration. The mass is long to exhaustion.
The Pope stands, walks, and kneels, sometimes at
his throne, sometimes at the altar, sometimes
alone, and sometimes surrounded by the cardinals.
One wonders how he can remember such
meaningless changes, unless one happens to know
there is an officer attached to the Papal court
whose sole business it is to prompt him, and to
keep him and the cardinals "well posted up" in
their daily duties—what dresses to wear, what
to "eat, drink, and avoid." Sometimes there is
a pause, the music ceases, the Pope and
cardinals sit enthroned (Anglicè, rest themselves),
and the golden vessels are moved and removed
on the high altar. During one of these pauses
I looked round at the groups formed near the
high altar (where the mere vulgar crowd is not
allowed to penetrate), and wondered at the
curiously mediæval aspect of the scene. Parti-
coloured Swiss guards, red, yellow, and black,
with steel caps and corselets, overlooked by
officers in complete armour of polished steel inlaid
with gold, some actually wearing graceful chain
tunics over crimson velvet, with golden helmets,
so that when two or three whispered together
they instantly formed a picture for Maclise of
Knights Palatine, or partisans of old Gotz von
Berlichingen, or any other mediæval scene you
please. Papal chamberlains, picturesque in high
Elizabethan ruffs, doublets, chains and orders,
long hose and rosetted shoes, regular Sir Walter
Raleighs, and, like him, remnants of a century
when Spain ruled European fashions as France
does in our days. Priests breaking the mundane
pageant here and there, and reminding one of
the mass still proceeding (which, by reason of
its length and pauses, seemed over long before
it really was), in every kind, colour, and variety
of gold-embroidered vestments. Officers of the
civic guard in dark uniforms, and officers of
Austria in white, diligently keeping back masses
of Roman peasants gaudy as butterflies as to
body and petticoat, and quite laden with chains
and crosses, earring and flowers, gold, silver, and
pearls, often wondrously handsome women. To
these add the rows of black-veiled ladies sitting
on either side in the reserved seats, backed by
the many-coloured walls rich with mosaics,
variegated marbles mounting aloft to the cupola,
where, under a glare of light, the four gigantic
evangelists in the spandrils of the arches float in
a haze of golden sunshine, a glorious setting of
a glorious scene.

Again we settled down to the mass, the
Pope advanced to the altar, denuded of mitre
and royal trappings, in a plain white dress, the
music ceased, the attendant prelates retired,
every knee was bent, every head bowed in.