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comparison with the other architectural wealth of Italy. Vasi states
there are about 300 churches; and among the other public buildings he
mentions 37 conservatories, established for the benefit of poor
children, and old people, both men and women.
The environs of Naples possess many attractions for the classic tourist,
as well as for the strange flies of fashion. Among these is Virgil's
Tomb, which is, indeed, holy ground. The temples, aqueducts, and arches
of olden time are likewise stupendous records of the sumptuousness of
the ancient people of this interesting district; and, apart from these
attractions, the contemplative philosopher may read in the volcanic
remains, and other phenomena on its shores, many inspiring lessons in
the broad volume of Nature; as well as amid the neighbouring relics of
Art, where
Man marks the earth with ruin.
* * * * *
LEICESTER ABBEY.--DEATH OF CARDINAL WOLSEY.
(_For the Mirror_.)
Few periods of English history are more pregnant with events, or more
interesting to the antiquary, and general reader, than that which
comprised the fortunes of Wolsey. The eventful life of the Cardinal,
checkered as it was by the vicissitudes of fortune, his sudden
elevation, and finally his more sudden fall and death, display an
appalling picture of "the instability of human affairs." This prelate
and statesman, who even aspired to the Papal throne itself, "was an
honest poore man's sonne in the towne of Ipswiche,"[1] who having
received a good education, and being endowed with great capacity, soon
rose to fill the highest offices of the church and state; in 1515 he
was created Lord High Chancellor, and in three years afterwards was
appointed legate _a latere_ by the Pope, having previously received
a Cardinal's cap.
Leicester Abbey was rendered famous as being the last residence of the
unhappy Wolsey; "within its walls," says Gilpin, "was once exhibited a
scene more humiliating to human ambition, and more instructive to human
grandeur than almost any which history hath produced. Here the fallen
pride of Wolsey retreated from the insults of the world, all his visions
of ambition were now gone; his pomp and pageantry and crowded levees! On
this spot he told the listening monks, the sole attendants of his dying
hour, as they stood around his pallet, that he was come to lay his bones
among them, and gave a pathetic testimony to the truth and joys of
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