ter of that day was very unpopular. Some of
the leading singers who had sung the Misereres during many years in
succession, and had thus learned their several parts, met and put
together what they knew into a whole, which was at once published, to
the no small annoyance and discomfiture of their enemy. But much good
music is quite beyond the reach of the public--Palestrina's best
motetts, airs by Alessandro Stradella, the famous hymn of Raimondi, in
short a great musical library, an 'archivio' as the Romans call such a
collection, all of which is practically lost to the world.

It is wonderful that under such circumstances the choir of Saint Peter's
should obtain even such creditable results. At a moment's notice an
organist and about a hundred singers are called upon to execute a florid
piece of music which many have never seen nor heard; the accompaniment
is played at sight from a mere figured bass, on a tumble-down instrument
two hundred years old, and the singers, both the soloists and the
chorus, sing from thumbed bits of manuscript parts written in
old-fashioned characters on paper often green with age. No one has ever
denied the extraordinary musical facility of Italians, but if the
outside world knew how Italian church music is performed it would be
very much astonished.

It is no wonder that such music is sometimes bad. But sometimes it is
very good; for there are splendid voices among the singers, and the
Maestro Renzi, the chief organist, is a man of real talent as well as of
amazing facility. His modernizing influence is counter-balanced by that
of the old choir master, Maestro Meluzzi, a first-rate musician, who
would not for his life change a hair of the old-fashioned traditions.
Yet there are moments, on certain days, when the effect of the great old
organ, with the rich voices blending in some good harmony, is very
solemn and stirring. The outward persuasive force of religion lies
largely in its music, and the religions that have no songs make few
proselytes.

Nothing, perhaps, is more striking, as one becomes better acquainted
with Saint Peter's, than the constant variety of detail. The vast
building produces at first sight an impression of harmony, and there
appears to be a remarkable uniformity of style in all the objects one
sees. There are no oil-paintings to speak of in the church, and but few
frescoes. The great altar-pieces are almost exclusively fine mosaic
copies of famous pictures which are