in public or in private, are under perpetual restraint and constant inspection. The least deviation from strict propriety or even from customary forms, would be immediately noticed, published, and censured in pasquinades. Leo X. loved shooting, and by the change of dress necessary for that amusement, gave scandal. Clement XIV. (Ganganelli) was advised by his physicians to ride; he rode in the neighbourhood of his Alban Villa, and it is said, offended the people of the country not a little by that supposed levity. Benedict XIV. wished to see the interior arrangement of a new theatre, and visited it before it was opened to the public; the next morning an inscription appeared over the door by which he had entered, Porta santa; plenary indulgence to all who enter. These anecdotes suffice to shew the joyless uniformity of the papal court, as well as the strict decorum that pervades every department immediately connected with the person of the Pontiff.

Some centuries ago the Popes considered themselves authorized, by their temporal sovereignty, to give the same exhibitions and tournaments, and to display the same scenes of festivity and magnificence in the Vatican, as were beheld at the courts and in the palaces of other princes; nor did such ill-placed pageants seem at that period to have excited surprize or censure. But the influence of the Council of Trent, though its direct interference was strongly repelled, reached the recesses of the pontifical palace, and the general rigour of discipline established by it, ascended from the members to the head, and at length pervaded the whole body. Hence the austere features of the papal court, and the monastic silence that reigns through the vast apartments of the Vatican and of the Quirinal

palaces; and hence also the solitary repasts and the perpetual abstemiousness of the Pontiff's table.

I mean not, however, to insinuate that the private virtues of the Popes themselves have no share in this system of fru gality and decorum, as that is by no means the truth. Temperance is a general virtue in Italy, and independent even of the national character, the Popes have long been remarkable for their personal abstemiousness. The present Pontiff in particular, inured to monastic discipline from his youth, and long accustomed to the plainest diet, owes, probably, the extreme temperance by which he is distinguished, to habit as much as to principle, and can feel little inclination to exchange his slight and wholesome repasts for the pleasures of a luxurious table. But, to whatever cause it may be attributed, this truly episcopal spirit and appearance are edifying, and must extort the applause of every traveller, who, however unwilling he may be to acknowledge the Pontiff as the first Pastor of the Christian Church, must confess, that his mode of living and appearance are not unworthy of that sacred character.

To speak of the prerogative of the Pontiff as a sovereign is scarcely necessary, as it is known to be uncontrouled by any legal or constitutional authority; a despotism which, though mildly exercised, is diametrically opposite both to the interests of the people and to the personal happiness of the prince himself. The mischiefs that result from thence to the former are obvious, while the latter, if alive to sentiments of religion and of moral obligation as the modern sovereigns of Rome must unquestionably be, cannot but tremble under the weight of a responsibility so awful thus confined to his own bosom. To share it with

the best and wisest members of the state is safe, and would at the same time be so glorious, that we should be tempted to wonder that the experiment had never been tried, if every page in history did not prove how sweet despotic sway is to the vitiated palate of Sovereigns. But, if ever any monarch had either an opportunity or an inducement to realize the generous plan formed by Servius Tullius of giving liberty and a constitution to his people, the Popes, we should imagine, could have wanted neither.

In the middle ages when even Rome itself was infected with the barbarism and the licentiousness of the times, the Romans may perhaps have been incapable of governing themselves with prudence and consistency. The Barons were perhaps too powerful, the people too ignorant to bear, or to appreciate the blessings of equal laws and of representative administration. (I have said perhaps, because every page of history proves that the best instrument of civilization is liberty.) But surely this objection is not applicable to the Romans of the present age, whether nobles or plebeians; the former, are calm and stately ; the latter, serious and reasonable; forming a nation well calculated to exercise the rights and to display the energies of a free people. The cardinals and the first patricians would constitute a wise and illustrious senate, and the people might exercise their powers by a representative body, the materials of which may be discovered in every street in Rome, and in every town and almost village in its dependent provinces. The Pontiff, a prince without passions, without any interest but that of his people, without any allurement to vice, and any bias to injustice, must surely be a fit head to such a political body, and calculated to preside over it with dignity and effect. Thus the Senatus

Populusque Romanus, now an empty name, would again become a mighty body; the rich and beautiful territory under its sway would again teem with population; its influence or its power might once more unite Italy in one solid mass, and direct its power and its energies in union with Great Britain, its natural ally, against the common enemy of Italy, of Great Britain, and of mankind.

But to turn from visions too prosperous to be realized, we shall proceed to the College of Cardinals, the real senate of modern Rome, and the council of the Pontiff. The title of cardinal was originally given to the parochial clergy of Rome: it seems to have been taken from the imperial court, where, in the time of Theodosius, the principal officers of the state had that appellation added as a distinction to their respective dignities. The number of titles, or churches which gave a title to this dignity, is seventy-two, including the six suburban bishoprics; their principal and most honourable privilege is that of electing the Pope; and it is easy to conceive that their dignity and importance increased with that of the Roman See itself, and that they shared alike its temporal and its spiritual pre-eminence. As they are the counsellors so they are the officers of the Pontiff, and are thus entrusted with the management of the church at large and of the Roman State in particular.

In the middle ages, when the Roman Bishop seemed to engross to himself the government, both spiritual and temporal, of Christendom, and acted at once with all the power and authority of Emperor and of Pontiff, the cardinalate became the next most conspicuous dignity, and rivalled, sometimes eclipsed the splendor of royalty itself.

Even after the plenitude of papal power had been retrenched, and the reformation had withdrawn so many provinces from its dominion, the purple retained its lustre, and a cardinal still continued to rank with princes of the blood royal. This honour they possess even in our times, and in spite of the revolution itself, they enjoy it in such courts as are not immediately under French controul. Thus the College of Cardinals has made a conspicuous figure in Europe for the space of at least one thousand years. The Roman Senate itself can scarce be said to have supported its fame and grandeur for so long a period; in fact, in dignity, rank, talents, and majesty, the sacred College is worthy to succeed and to represent that august assembly. One of the advantages or rather the peculiar glory of this body, is that it admits men of eminence in virtue, talents, or rank, without any regard to country or nation, thus paying a tribute to merit in opposition to local prejudices, and inviting genius from every quarter of the Universe, to receive the honours, and at the same time to increase the lustrc of the Roman purple. The classic writers of the age of Leo, while they beheld so many distinguished characters collected in this assembly, and while they received so much encouragement from its learned members, looked up to it with reverence and affection, and joyfully applied to it the titles and appellations of the ancient senate. It was with them the amplissimus catus, imperii et rationis arx-portus omnium gentium-Orbis terrarum concilium, &c. Its members were the purpurati patres-gentium patroni-Urbis principes, &c. It cannot therefore be a matter of surprise that this dignity should at all times have been the object of ecclesiastical ambition, and been accepted with joy by the sons even of the first monarchs in Europe.