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of other petty mortals, as to find the sublime strains of Palestrina and Albulensis "somewhat monotonous;" (p. 319) the procession of the Pope and his clergy "something ludicrous," (p. 320) and the flabelle, or fans made of plumes, which are borne beside him, "too singular to be passed over in silence!" (p. 322.) But what can you expect from one who gravely discovers that in Raffaello's Transfiguration,' Mount Thabor is like a hay-cock; (p. 311) "that St. Paul's (of London) is quite free either from the gaudiness of painting, or that of coloured marbles or gilding, so conspicuous in St. Peter's;" (p. 303) and more stupendous than all, that the "sole proof" on which Catholics can maintain transubstantiation is-the miracle of Bolsena! (p. 318.)

But as to the specimen of Mr. Wilson's hearing. Speaking of the functions in the Papal chapel on Palm Sunday, he says,

"As soon as his holiness had taken his seat on a sort of throne by the altar, a band of instrumental music, and a choir of singers, struck up." (p. 319.)*

We thought every child who had been in Rome a month knew that in the Papal chapel no instrument, not even the organ, is permitted; and certainly Mr. Wilson's ears must be peculiar, to mistake the clear, unaccompanied sounds of the human voice, for a band of instruments. Once more, he either did not go to the chapel, or he is a precious observer. Such instances may appear trifling; but they are important to show what faith is to be put in such a traveller and others of his caste, when they even pretend to tell us what they themselves saw and heard. What then shall we say of their authority when they only give us, what forms the bulk of their narrative, stories, remarks and descriptions picked up from others? +

Were we to attempt the expression of those feelings which Mr. Wilson's remarks on Holy Week have excited in our minds, we could not keep this article within reasonable bounds. We do not think that any traveller has done justice to its sacred scenes; nor do we deem it possible for even a refined and cultivated mind to appreciate their grandeur, or fathom the depth of their pathos, on a first or second attendance on them. We shall refrain too, for the present, from touching on what forms

As a specimen of Mr. W.'s accuracy, we shall only observe that the paragraph whence this extract is taken contains no fewer than three blunders. 1. There is no band; 2. the palms blessed in the Pope's chapel are not artificial but real; 3. the procession does not take place after, but before, mass. These are all in a few lines; and it only required common eyes, ears, and sense, to avoid them. Was Mr. Rae Wilson, who is so particular about sabbath observances, at his own place of worship, instead of the function which he describes as if present? If not, why not? For the two are at the same time.

+ We happen to know the inventor of one or two of Mr. Wilson's piquant anecdotes.

the truest characteristic of vital Christianity, the institutions of benevolence and instruction with which Italy, beyond every other country, abounds. The evidence before the Irish Committee of Education, contains, we understand, details upon one part of this subject, which are calculated to surprise even many who fancy themselves well acquainted with that country. Of the charitable institutions we shall one day speak more at length; and we flatter ourselves that a brighter example of substantial, unostentatious charity cannot be found elsewhere, than what we shall endeavour to display. No dinners, no annual reports, no published lists of donations, no life-governors, or patrons, are necessary; it is a devotedness of soul as well as of influence, and a dedication of the person as well as of the purse, which constitute there the service of charity. We cannot understand how traveller should succeed traveller, and tour struggle in the press with tour for primogeniture of publication, and yet all should infallibly overlook this new and virgin field, which, to one acquainted with the country, forms its leading characteristic. After the beautiful eulogium of Burke upon Howard, we might have hoped that religious tourists, like Rae Wilson, would have wished to tread in the steps of that great man, and spend more time in probing the Christianity of foreign countries to the core, by seeing how that moral precept which forms its practical essence is best observed. Such an investigation would have spared him many violations of its injunctions. On the other hand, the man who, like him, observes nothing in our sublime Church services, but how often dresses are changed, and genuflexions made-and who judges of a nation's character by the observance of one legal precept-we know not unto whom to liken him, save to one who, standing in the Roman Forum, oppressed with the genius of the place, and finding his mind too full with so "prolific a theme for moralizing," gives vent to his feelings and meditation, by the solemn assurance that Campo Vaccino is a good name for it, because "it looks more suited for a cattle market than anything like what the (his) imagination is likely to conceive!" (p. 333).

We have confined ourselves only to shewing how the religious feeling harmonizes with the rest of the Italian character, and how foolish it is to judge of it on principles which would separate the two. It is, in fact, sectarianism which has soured the temper of the English people in religion, and led them to imagine that this cannot exist in the heart without a demure and formal exterior. Unity of belief and practice, on the contrary, has an aggregating, harmonizing influence, the natural consequences of which are, mutual confidence, cheerfulness, and joy. While each member of a family is reading his own book by his separate lamp, there

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will be little appearance in it of either affection or pleasure, all will seem disunited, gloomy and demure; but when all are basking together under the same sun, and all attending to their respective occupations by the light of its universal ray, they will group together in closer union, there will be more warmth in their hearts, and a more blithesome glow on their countenances, and the reflection on each of the other's happiness, will multiply manifold the joyfulness of the beam.

To those who should desire to see the spirit of true meekness strongly contrasted with the unsparing harshness of English censure, we would recommend the perusal of a little work, which we are happy to see has been just translated into English. We allude to Manzoni's "Vindication of Catholic Morality;"* and we particularly direct the attention of our readers to the concluding chapter: "On the objections to Catholic morality, derived from the character of the Italians." In it will be found advice to that people, how to conduct themselves under the lash of bigoted reprovers, worthy of a Father of the ancient Church. We ask no better criterion of the practical Christianity of the two religions, than the comparison between the tone, style, sense, and feeling, to be found in the heavy octavo before us, and in the gentle and humble, and unpretending volume of Manzoni, every page of which is redolent of the purest and sweetest charity, meekness, and devotion.

ART. VIII. A few Plain Words to Sir Robert Peel.
London, 1836.

S far back as English history concerns itself about the affairs of Ireland, it gives our country and our people a bad name. Ireland is described as a soil in which the seeds of good government could never be made to strike root, or the fruits of peace to grow up to maturity. Fertile to prodigality in the gifts of nature, her moral fields are represented as incapable of good, and yielding no other return than a Cadmean crop to the most assiduous cultivator. On other topics connected with our land, the British historians wrangle and tear each others' credit to tatters, with the fierceness of contending mastiffs. But there is a provoking unanimity, when they come to speak of the national character of the Irish; like the annalists of old Rome, they immolate the good name of all other nations to the glory of their own: and Ireland, as if she were really "alien in blood" and in interest, comes in

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for an equal share of obloquy with France and Spain, the "natural enemies" of Great Britain.

Had our native historians been allowed a perfect freedom of reply, through the medium of the same press and the same language, which were used with so large a license for the purpose of traducing their country, doubtless they would have told the English reader and the world a different story. They saw their countrymen held up to scorn and abhorrence, as an inhuman, revengeful, and perfidious race, whom no ties could bind, no kindness soften. But for one instance of fierce vengeance on the part of the bondsmen, they could have cited ten of insolent and rapacious cruelty on the side of the taskmaster. They could have borne down the charge of violence with authenticated cases of oppression in the other scale; they might have balanced impatience with extortion, the disregard of treaties with a profligate contempt of justice and disobedience to laws; with proofs without end that the laws, both in spirit and in operation, were contrary to the will, as they were adverse to the happiness and the natural rights of the Irish people. "If lions were carvers," said the king of beasts, as he eyed a group of statuary which represented an animal of his own species prostrate and bestridden by a man, "these two figures should change places."

Master Vowel, alias John Hooker, whose history of Ireland, during the reigns of Edward VI, Mary and Elizabeth, is extant Apud Raphael Hollinshead, launches out against the character of this people in a strain that has continued in fashion down to the hour in which we write; for it is distinguished by the same spirit of malice and exaggeration, the same exalted pretence of piety, and the same exclusive assertion of loyalty, which we see exemplified in the writings and declamations of the most zealous tories of the present day.

"Here may you see the nature and disposition of this wicked, effrenated, barbarous, and unfaithful nation; who, as Cambrensis writeth of them, they are a wicked and perverse generation, constant in that they be always inconstant, faithful in that they be always unfaithful, and trusty in that they be always treacherous and untrusty; they do nothing but imagine mischief, and have no delight in any good thing; they are always working wickedness against the good and such as be quiet in the land; their mouths are full of unrighteousness and their tongues speak nothing but cursedness; their feet swift to shed blood, and their hands imbrued in the blood of innocents; the ways of peace they know not, and in the paths of righteousness they walk not: God is not known in the land, neither is his name called rightly upon among them; their queen and sovereign they obey not, and her government they allow not, but as much as in them lieth, do resist her imperial estate, crown and dignity."

These are "bitter words," and in such modern taste and style, that a person hearing them read might suppose that they belonged to the leading article of The Standard, or had been ejaculated in a late debate by the Bishop of Exeter. But the writer, in the excess of splenetic zeal, lets out a little too much; for not content with libelling the country by a sweeping denunciation, he proceeds to establish his point by an example, and the case brought forward for that purpose is so perfect an illustration of the whole system by which Ireland has been "governed," that we could not desire a better excuse for the turbulent and unruly character attributed to her people.

"It was not much above a year past, that Captain Gilbert with the sword so persecuted them, and in justice so executed them, that then they in all humbleness submitted themselves, craved pardon, and swore to be for ever true and obedient; which so long as he mastered and kept them under, so long they performed it; but the cat was no sooner gone but the mice were at play; and he no sooner departed from them, but forthwith they skipped out and cast from themselves the obedience and dutifulness of true subjects. For such a perverse nature they are of, that they will be no longer honest and obedient than that they cannot be suffered to be rebels; such is their stubbornness and pride, that with a continual fear it must be bridled, and such is the hardness of their hearts, that with the rod it must be still chastised and subdued; for no longer fear-no longer obedience; and no longer than they be ruled with severity-no longer will they be dutiful and in subjection; but will be as before, false, truce breakers, and traitorous."

That same Captain-Gilbert plan has been too successful, we own, in perverting the disposition of a most noble and generous people. During nine successive reigns, not to speak of The Commonwealth, under which it was most rampant, it had its fair trial: the Irish having been persecuted without relaxation or remorse from the 16th to the latter end of the 18th century, and since then, with only occasional gleams of forbearance, up to the accession of the present ministry. Fear and severity, persecution and the sword, were the means employed during that dark and afflicting period of Ireland's history, to master her affections and win her to loyalty and obedience. What wonder if they failed? Men do not gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles; why then should they look for a return of gratitude and attachment to a long series of galling oppressions? The real matter of surprise is, that the Irish have not been rendered more wild, reckless, and vindictive, than even the hyperbolical malice and invention of their calumniators can paint them. For they are naturally high-minded and impatient, nor does their spirit tamely bend to a wanton wrong or an insult; yet are they found still frank and openhearted, unsuspicious against the warnings of all experience,

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