resent the open-mouthed bad taste of my countrymen who made a
mockery of these palsy-stricken ceremonies. Nine cardinals going to
sleep, nine train-bearers talking scandal, twenty huge, handsome
Switzers in the dress devised by Michelangelo, some ushers, a choir
caged off by gilded railings, the insolence and eagerness of
polyglot tourists, plenty of wax candles dripping on people's heads,
and a continual nasal drone proceeding from the gilded cage, out of
which were caught at intervals these words, and these only,--'Saecula
saeculorum, amen.' Such was the celebrated Sistine service. The
chapel blazed with light, and very strange did Michelangelo's Last
Judgment, his Sibyls, and his Prophets, appear upon the roof and
wall above this motley and unmeaning crowd.

Next morning I put on my dress-clothes and white tie, and repaired,
with groups of Englishmen similarly attired, and of Englishwomen in
black crape--the regulation costume--to S. Peter's. It was a
glorious and cloudless morning; sunbeams streamed in columns from
the southern windows, falling on the vast space full of soldiers and
a mingled mass of every kind of people. Up the nave stood double
files of the Pontifical guard. Monks and nuns mixed with the Swiss
cuirassiers and halberds. Contadini crowded round the sacred images,
and especially round the toe of S. Peter. I saw many mothers lift
their swaddled babies up to kiss it. Valets of cardinals, with the
invariable red umbrellas, hung about side chapels and sacristies.
Purple-mantled monsignori, like emperor butterflies, floated down
the aisles from sunlight into shadow. Movement, colour, and the stir
of expectation, made the church alive. We showed our dress-clothes
to the guard, were admitted within their ranks, and solemnly walked
up toward the dome. There under its broad canopy stood the altar,
glittering with gold and candles. The choir was carpeted and hung
with scarlet. Two magnificent thrones rose ready for the Pope:
guards of honour, soldiers, attaches, and the elite of the residents
and visitors in Rome, were scattered in groups picturesquely varied
by ecclesiastics of all orders and degrees. At ten a stirring took
place near the great west door. It opened, and we saw the procession
of the Pope and his cardinals. Before him marched the singers and
the blowers of the silver trumpets, making the most liquid melody.
Then came his Cap of Maintenance, and three tiaras; then a company
of mitred priests;