among
them, working for them, and ministering to their many necessities,
during the infliction of the terrible plague. I think there is no
objection to the custom of canonizing such men,--that is, in reverencing
them (but not worshipping them as saints) as noble examples of
self-sacrificing holy life, and so preserving the memory of their good
deeds to posterity. The resplendent gold and silver shrine of this holy
man is one of the most interesting objects in the Cathedral. His body is
preserved below the altar, dressed in his pontifical robes, sparkling
with diamonds--the head reposing on a richly gilded cushion; the face,
dead and shrivelled, which is the only part exposed, presents a sad
contrast to all this splendour. He was the nephew of Pius IV., and was
canonized by his successor; but (shame to such an age!) it cost his
family so large a sum that they declined a similar honour for his
cousin, Cardinal Federigo Borromeo, celebrated by Manzoni in the
Promessi Sposi.

With all its religious freedom, this Cathedral draws on the credulity of
the people by its supposititious relics--such as a nail of the true
cross, which is carried in procession every third of May; the cradle and
swaddling clothes of the infant Christ; part of the towel with which He
wiped His disciples' feet; four thorns from His crown; parts of the
reed, the sponge, the spear, and the cross; a piece of Moses' rod; two
of Elisha's teeth; and many other such profane make-believes. The tombs
and bronzes, especially the bronze tabernacle by Brambilla, and the
choir by Pellegrini, which has seventeen beautiful bas-reliefs, are all
worth study. On the right-hand side of the choir is a wonderfully
executed statue of the devoted martyr, St. Bartholomew, carrying his
skin on his arm--anatomically, a perfect masterpiece.

I heard one or two services here, and thought both organ and acoustics
very fine, the noble vaulting carrying back each note, grandly
swelling, to the entrance porch. Such is the magnitude of the interior,
that on week-days, when gangs of workmen are chipping away at the
columns while service is being performed, there is no unusual noise to
be heard. But the frequent interruptions by people moving about during
the service is very irritating to a people who are accustomed to quiet
devotion such as we invariably find in the mighty congregations at St.
Paul's and Westminster Abbey.

Paying my twenty-five centimes (about 21/2_d._), I ascended