and hands, which are protected by clogs. As it approaches, it turns suddenly up from its quadrupedal position, takes off its hat, shows a broad, stout, legless torso, with a vigorous chest and a ruddy face, as of a person who has come half-way up from below the steps through a trap door, and with a smile whose breadth is equalled only by the cunning which lurks round the corners of the eyes, says, in the blandest and most patronizing tones, with a rising inflection, "Buon giorno, Signore! Oggi fa bel tempo," or “fa cattivo tempo," as the case may be. This is no less a person than Beppo, King of the Beggars, and Baron of the Scale di Spagna. He is better known to travellers than the Belvedere Torso of Hercules, at the Vatican, and has all the advantage over that wonderful work, of having an admirable head and a good digestion. Hans Christian Andersen has celebrated him in The Improvisatore," and unfairly attributed to him an infamous character and life; but this account is purely fictitious, and is neither vero nor ben trovato. Beppo, like other distinguished personages, is not without a history. The Romans say of him, "Era un Signore in paese suo,"-"He was a gentleman in his own country," and this belief is borne out by a certain courtesy and style in his bearing which would not shame the first gentleman in the land. He was undoubtedly of a good family in the provinces, and came to Rome, while yet young, to seek his fortune. His crippled condition cut him off from any active employment, and he adopted the profession of a mendicant, as being the most lucrative, and requiring the least exertion.'-i. 35.

This worthy is evidently satisfied with his occupation as an honest and honourable way of life. To a lady who ventured to ask him how he could go on begging, when he was believed to have given his daughter a portion of 1000 scudi, he calmly replied, I have another daughter to portion now.' And not only did he receive a regular monthly payment from many sojourners at Rome, as a composition for being allowed to mount the Spanish Steps in peace, but we have even heard of admirers who sent him tokens of remembrance from England. But King Beppo's admirers will be grieved to hear that he has lately had a fall. In the middle of last season he was missed from his accustomed haunts, and the sudden disappearance of the Pope from the Vatican could hardly have raised greater astonishment or perplexity. After a day or two it was reported that the great Beppo was in gaol; some said, for neglecting the knife-grinder's example

'But for my part I never like to meddle
With politics, Sir;

some said that, after having received many fruitless warnings as to his style of language, he had been pounced on while pouring forth a tremendous torrent of blasphemy; some, that he had been caught in throwing a stone at a lady. At length he reappeared,

but,

but, instead of being allowed to resume his throne on the Spanish Steps, he was restricted to the Piazza of St. Agostino; and there, on being questioned by a young English lady as to the cause of his late calamities, he appealed to the supposed universal weakness of her sex and nation by telling her that he had been sent to prison for distributing Protestant tracts!

6

But beggary is not confined to such persons as Beppo and his brotherhood. There are the mendicant friars, those dirty brown brutes,' as we once heard them styled by a young gentleman who was not particularly well versed in the distinctions of the monastic orders. There are the old women who at church-doors rattle coppers in tin boxes-not, as the stranger commonly fancies, for the purpose of showing him that, as they have some money already, he cannot do better than give them more, but in order to collect funds for the buying of charitable masses.

'Nor are these the only friends of the box. Often in walking the streets one is suddenly shaken in your ear, and, turning round, you are startled to see a figure entirely clothed in white from head to foot, a rope round his waist, and a white capuccio drawn over his head and face, and showing, through two round holes, a pair of sharp black eyes behind them. He says nothing, but shakes his box at you, often threateningly, and always with an air of mystery. This is a penitent Saccone; and as this confraternità is composed chiefly of noblemen, he may be one of the first princes or cardinals in Rome, performing penance in expiation of his sins; or, for all you can see, it may be one of your intimate friends. The money thus collected goes to various charities. The Sacconi always go in couples,-one taking one side of the street, the other the opposite,-never losing sight of each other, and never speaking. Clothed thus in secrecy, they can test the generosity of any one they meet with complete impunity, and they often amuse themselves with startling foreigners. Many a group of English girls, convoyed by their mother, and staring into some mosaic or cameo shop, is scared into a scream by the sudden jingling of the box, and the apparition of the spectre in white who shakes it.'-i. 55.

6

These and other classes of beggars make their way up the stairs of lodging-houses, and waylay you as you go out or in. But,' says Mr. Story, the greatest mendicant in Rome is the Government' (i. 59); and then follows a paragraph which, although perfectly true, would of itself be enough to exclude the book from Rome.

We now come to a chapter on the Christmas holidays and their ceremonies, which, for travellers newly arrived in Rome, have a charm of freshness such as cannot belong to the ceremonies of a later time. We need not say with what zeal our fair countrywomen-especially those of the Evangelical' and Vol. 114.-No. 227.

S

Presbyterian

Presbyterian persuasions-plunge into these ceremonies, spending the whole night in roaming from one church to another, and winding up with the high mass in St. Peter's on Christmas-day. For ourselves, we must own that we are not disposed to partake of such things otherwise than in moderation, although we, like the rest of the world, have witnessed something of them-from the grand courtly ceremonial of St. Peter's and the brilliant operatic spectacle and music of St. Mary Major's to the pantomimic exhibitions of some pontifical masses, where the bishop, undressing and revesting himself in the sight of the people, irresistibly recalls to our minds the manner in which we have seen a theatrical clown array himself in the finery of some milliner's basket which had fallen in his way. Then there are the exhibition of the Bambino, and the preaching of the children at the Ara Cœli.

'The whole of one of the side-chapels is devoted to this exhibition. In the foreground is a grotto, in which is seated the Virgin Mary, with Joseph at her side and the miraculous Bambino in her lap. Immediately behind are an ass and an ox. On one side kneel the shepherds and kings in adoration; and above, God the Father is seen surrounded by clouds of cherubs and angels playing on instruments, as in the early pictures of Raphael. In the background is a scenic representation of a pastoral landscape, on which all the skill of the scene-painter is expended. Shepherds guard their flocks far away, reposing under palm-trees or standing on green slopes which glow in the sunshine. The distances and perspective are admirable. In the middle ground is a crystal fountain of glass, near which sheep, preternaturally white, and made of real wool and cotton-wool, are feeding, tended by figures of shepherds carved in wood. Still nearer come women bearing great baskets of real oranges and other fruits on their heads. All the nearer figures are full-sized, carved in wood, painted, and dressed in appropriate robes. The miraculous Bambino is a painted doll swaddled in a white dress, which is crusted over with magnificent diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. The Virgin also wears in her ears superb diamond pendants.'

The general effect of this scenic show is admirable, and crowds flock to it and press about it all day long. Mothers and fathers are lifting their little children as high as they can, and until their arms are ready to break; little maids are pushing, whispering, and staring in great delight; contadini are gaping at it with a mute wonderment of admiration and devotion; and Englishmen are discussing loudly the value of the jewels, and wanting to know, by Jove, whether those in the crown can be real.

• While this is taking place on one side of the church, on the other is a very different and quite as singular an exhibition. Around one of the antique columns of this basilica-which once beheld the splendours and crimes of the Cæsars' palace-a staging is erected,

from

from which little maidens are reciting, with every kind of pretty gesticulations, sermons, dialogues, and little speeches, in explanation of the Presepio opposite. Sometimes two of them are engaged in alternate question and answer about the mysteries of the Incarnation and the Redemption. Sometimes the recitation is a piteous description of the agony of the Saviour and the sufferings of the Madonna,the greatest stress being, however, always laid upon the latter. All these little speeches have been written for them by their priest or some religious friend, committed to memory, and practised with the appropriate gestures over and over again at home. Their little piping voices are sometimes guilty of such comic breaks and changes, that the crowd about them rustles into a murmurous laughter. Sometimes, also, one of the very little preachers has a dispetto, pouts, shakes her shoulders, and refuses to go on with her part;-another, however, always stands ready on the platform to supply the vacancy, until friends have coaxed, reasoned, or threatened the little pouter into obedience. These children are often very beautiful and graceful, and their comical little gestures and intonations, their clasping of hands and rolling up of eyes, have a very amusing and interesting effect.'i. 68-70.

Next follows the Epiphany, with the Befana presents to children, bought in the piazza of St. Eustachio on the eve; and the polyglott exhibition of the Propaganda. The chapel of the college is crowded. At one end rise rows of benches, occupied by the students, among whom are represented many varieties of the human race, and each nation contributes a poem suitable to the occasion, while the whole performance is wound up by a scene in which a dozen languages are heard at once. There is naturally a tendency to multiply as much as possible the number of dialects: thus, among the pieces last year were one in Lowland Scotch (recited by a youth from Prince Edward's Island), one in Swiss-German, and one in Rhaetian,' which sounded like a mere Italian patois. The poets for the most part endeavoured to connect the Epiphany with the politics of the day; Rome was figured under the names of Jerusalem and Sion, Victor Emmanuel was girded at in the character of Herod, and the most sacred of parallels was bestowed on Pius IX. The greatest sensation was produced by two very black Africans, who followed up the recitation of their verses by singing some specimens of their native music, and convulsed the audiencestudents, professors, and all-with laughter, while they them selves preserved the most solemn composure.

Mr. Story, we believe, does not mention this performance, nor does he say much of the benediction of the lambs, which takes place in the basilica of St. Agnes, without the walls, on the 21st of January. On this occasion pontifical mass is per

s 2

formed

formed in the ancient church. At a certain stage in the service, two white lambs, adorned with ribbons, and lying on cushions, with their legs tied together, are carried up to the altar, while the faces not only of the congregation, but of the officials who carry them, and the clergy who receive them, are relaxed into the broadest smiles; and when, at the moment of the benediction, one of the poor little animals utters a ba-a-a, the gravity of every one is entirely upset. It is certainly one of the oddest religious rites to be seen anywhere in Christendom.

The Carnival was this year a somewhat dismal time, thanks to political causes. The leaders of the Roman world held aloof from it; masks were allowed only in so far as necessary to defend the face from the showers of confetti; and, instead of the wild excitement which used to attend the lighting of the moccoli, when every one in the crowded Corso tried to blow out his neighbour's light, and to defend his own, they were confined to the balconies of houses. But let us suppose that, as Mr. Story says in the beginning of his fifth chapter, the gay confusion of the Carnival is over,' or, as a learned German Jesuit expressed the same fact to us-'Die Narrenzeit ist vorüber'— and that Lent has set in. The inexperienced traveller expects a dull time; and, if you cannot live without dancing, which at this season is forbidden by the police, no doubt you will find it dull. But in other respects the Roman Lent is really a very lively season-very far different, indeed, from the Lent of a decorous English cathedral town. Evening parties are more plentiful than ever-the only difference from other seasons being, that our Roman Catholic friends hold themselves bound, it is said, to confine themselves to water-ice, and to eschew cream. If theatres are closed, concert-rooms are open all the more; and every day there is a 'station' at some church or other which is indicated in the Diario Romano. For many a little church, which is perhaps shut up almost all the rest of the year, this Lenten station is the gayest day of the three hundred and sixtyfive. The street near it is strewed with sand and boxwood; the unfailing beggars line the approach and take up their position on the steps; carriages are seen before the door, and the pavement within is crowded with kneeling people, among whom the visitor who is led by curiosity rather than by devotion winds in and out in search of what is to be seen. At such times it is that you may best see the round church of St. Stephen, the meatmarket of Imperial Rome, with its hideous pictures of martyrdoms, looking like the early woodcuts in Foxe run mad; St. Nereus and Achilleus, where the great ecclesiastical annalist Baronius, once its titular cardinal, studied to restore the primi