Maynooth Grant, 282 The Search after Happiness, 292 Siege and Deliverance of the City of The Michael Angelo and the Raphael Diocese of Southwark, 311 Female Confessors of the Cross, 318 Very Rev. Dr. Yore's Library, 319 Visit of His Grace the Most Rev. Dr. Cullen to the French Ships of War, Cardinal Wolsey and Henry VIII. 327 The Constabulary of Ireland, 334 The Irish Language Society, 343 Housewife's own Book, 349 Cyril Austin: a Convert's Story, 357, Ancient Treland and St. Patrick, 363 Reflections on the Causes of the Great- ness, and of the Decline of the What is Happiness, 375 Notices of some of the Saints Com- Lines on Sister Elizabeth, 278 My God! to think of Thee alone, 342 Hark! Yonder sounds the Chapel Bell, To the Blessed Virgin Mary, 343, 358 THE SACRAMENTS are a wonderful combination of wisdom and of mercy. From his cradle to his manhood, and from From the Italian of the JESUIT FATHER BRESCIANI. [The "JEW OF VERONA was written in Italian by the distinguished Jesuit Father Bresciani, for, the purpose of illustrating the dangers of Secret Societies, and the corrupt- ing influence of bad books. This remarkable story appeared in the pages of the Civilta Cattolica, a periodical established in Rome in 1850, at the suggestion of the Sovereign Pontiff. The tale will be completed in the Lamp in the present half- yearly volume, and other Catholic Stories by distinguished writers will follow. The American translation will be adopted in one part of the tale; and in another part, a translation specially made for the Lamp, by the editor.-J.B.] THE sides of Mount Vesuvius present a most delightful On the 6th of February, 1850, upon the high summit of Vesuvius, was seen a dense column of smoke, increasing rapidly of distant thunder, the heavens were darkened, the sun grew dim, and the sea raged with the violence of the wind. The horses, with waving manes and ears erect, neighed and pawed the ground; the dogs ran howling with terror through the streets of Ottaiano, Resina, and Bosco; the birds with doubtful flight escaped to the mountain of Amalfi; the ducks fled noisily from their ponds; domestic fowls, uttering the most doleful cries, collected their young beneath the refuge of their wings, and the doves regained their retreats in silence and sadness. The hollow sides of the mountain redoubled their thunder; the clouds of smoke driven impetuously by the tempest overspread the plains beneath. The heights stag- gered, and the mouth of the volcano yawned; rocks, flames, and ashes were vomited forth to the clouds with a threatening and dreadful sound, resembling the roaring of artillery. The fiery torrent, hurled by the fury of the internal tempest, darted forth with the noise of thunder, heaved up red-hot rocks from the abyss of the crater, and rushed down the pre- cipes into the valleys beneath. For three days and nights, fire and smoke, rocks and ashes, were vomited forth from this mouth of the infernal regions. The smoke, driven by the wind, moved in black masses over the bay, and along the mountains of Castellamare; then stretching over Sorrentum, it extended up the acclivities of Amalfi, and over the broad bay of Salerno, even to Pestum. Whirlwinds, darkness, and stench accompanied the stormy vortex; the sea itself seemed in flames, and sent forth exhalations which obscured the Consternation spread through the surrounding country. From the middle of the crater, columns of fire like a swollen this terrific scene; and while, from the opposite heights they stood contemplating the devastating stream, its lurid glare shone upon their horrified countenances; terrific explosions stunned their ears; the roaring of the waves, the quaking earth, and rocks dashing against each other with fearful sounds, presented before them a horrible vision of the infernal regions. Whilst many, sensible of the danger, were reproaching themselves for their curiosity; others, still more incautious, ascended the opposite ridges of Vesuvius, to obtain a nearer view of the raging torrent of lava, which was hurled upwards by the fury of the volcano. What madmen! Some of them fell crushed by the enormous rocks which fell from above; others had their limbs broken, while the rest rushed headlong down the precipitous paths by which they had ascended. Among those who were contemplating Vesuvius from the opposite side of the mountain, stood a Roman, named Bartolo Capegli. This man, striking his forehead at the sight of the sudden eruption, exclaimed, "Oh! who that beholds this Vesuvius, does not see an image of the fortunes of Italy! Italy, our beautiful, our generous country! How pressing thy invitations, formerly extended to the pilgrim! The traveller could never sufficiently contemplate the magnificence of thy sacred ceremonies; the richness of thy scenery; the sweet repose of thy cities; the ardour of thy youth; the industry, the valour, the genius and refined policy of thy citizens. How art thou thus suddenly convulsed! How has a volcano thus broken forth in thy centre, scattering smoke and flames in every direction, and overwhelming thee in such immeasurable ruin! Oh, my country! Oh, dearest treasure of my heart! Oh, sacred object of my gladdened hopes, how do I now behold thee, thus crushed and spurned, and robbed of every blessing! Thou art humbled to the dust; thou draggest along thy lacerated and bleeding side. Look in thy death-struggles upon thy children; thy sons whom it was ever thy pride to see great among nations, but who were incapable of recognizing the glory to which thou hadst purposed to exalt them. Such was the future with which I also had flattered myself, when a malignant influence corrupted and poisoned thy noble aspirations, and turned into ruin all that thou hadst with consummate wisdom devised for the liberty and honour, the virtue and power of thy people. Thy sufferings harrowed my soul, and unable to stem the fury of the vast conflagration which consumes thee, I tore myself from thy beautiful plains, and wandered into a strange country to weep over thy misfortunes." Bartolo, inflamed with indignation at the remembrance of his country's wrongs, gave vent to those lamentations in the midst of a large circle of friends, whom he had joined in Naples, shortly after his arrival from Switzerland, and with whom he had come to view the foaming lava, which was now devastating the fertile plains, and destroying the delightful gardens of the luxuriant sides of Vesuvius. I imagine that I still see the people asking each other, who could this Cato be, that, comparing Italy to the graceful and flowery borders of Vesuvius, had thus broken forth in loud lamentations over the volcano which had exploded in their midst, and which was producing such unutterable ruin, and who had been so pierced with sorrow, that he had abandoned Rome and Italy and taken refuge in a foreign land. Bartolo Capegli was now in his fortieth year, tall and well formed; of a powerful and penetrating mind; affable to his friends, and, in less unfortunate times, an agreeable companion, being full of jest and wit. He was kind and prudent in his own family; he carefully attended to his private affairs; was just, loyal, and of an excellent disposition. His father was formerly a member of the Curia, and appeared at the Courts of the Rota, or Monte Citorio, decorated with a full powdered wig, a purple cassock, rochet and mantle, and in everything resembled a Monsignore. This active, laborious, and venerable man was in the daily habit of taking his son Bartolo, when a boy, to hear mass at the Madonna di Sant' Agostino, and to the ceremonies in which the Pope officiated; above all, he never omitted to take him, at Christmas, at Easter, and on the festivals of St. Peter and St. John, to receive the Pope's benediction. There were appointed days for visits to the Madonna dell' Archetto, to that of the Pieta in the Piazza Colonna, to the Bambino d'Araceli, and to St. John decapitated at the Cerchi. In the evenings, a select company of consistorial avocati, judges of the rota, councillors of the Sant' Uffizio, and other distinguished personages, assembled at the house of Capegli. The majority of these were dignified old men, who still remembered the fortunate days of Pius VI. They described him to the young Bartolo, as the handsomest and most dignignified Pope that ever filled the chair of St. Peter; tall and portly, with a countenance full of majesty; grave and imposing in his deportment; a voice clear and sonorotis ; magnificent and kinglike in his movements; but in giving benediction from the balcony at the Vatican, his manner was particularly calculated to inspire awe and admiration. "Then," said one of the company, "came those dreadful times of the French Republic, when he was dragged from Rome and carried into France! What weeping, what lamentation through Trastevere and the Monti! What mourning through the entire city!" "I," continued another," was then at Viterbo, and cannot remember that, but I shall never forget the scaling of the walls of the Quirinal, to carry off Pius VII. Dear Bartolo! thou art but a boy, and wast perhaps not then born, but ask thy father how disastrous were those days! You remember,” said he, turning to Bartolo's father, "when, for refusing to take the prescribed oath, you were compelled to fly and conceal yourself in some unfrequented place, and were perpetually haunted by suspicion. You recollect the assassinations, and the imprisonment of so many unfortunate Monsignori; some were sent to Finestrella or Alessandria, others to Corsica or the galleys of Genoa, Toulon, or Bordeaux!" "For my part," added another, "I never moved from the Barberini palace; I had, however, many narrow escapes, and was finally saved only by disguising myself as a stable-boy, and employing myself among the horses. In the evening, I occasionally stole forth to visit my friends and companions, who were even in a more laughable plight than myself, lurking about in holes and corners. They often climbed to the roofs of the houses by means of ladders, and after these were removed there was but little danger of a discovery. Others secreted themselves in certain hovels of the Suburra, or at San Cosemati. It was lamentable to behold men of the highest talents passing their days without occupation, and wasting months among the washhouses of Trastevere, and the gardeners of the Monti. In the Luspoli palace, we were exceedingly diverted by the adventures of the archpriest of Ariano, who sometimes secretly entered Rome from the residence of a noblemau, where he had been concealed by the aid of the carriers and herdsmen on the estate. He would sometimes come on horseback in the dress of a buffalo-driver, called in Rome a Butero, wearing a sugar-loaf hat, under which he wore a scarlet network cap, with its tassel dangling over his right shoulder. A silk sash, variegated with green and blue and ending in a long fringe, encircled his waist, and with the addition of a dagger and pistols, he might easily have passed for one of the most valiant sbirri' of the Corte Savella. His red doublet turned up with white, buttons like pistachio nuts, large boots backled up the sides, two rasty spurs, a long club hanging on his arm, and his coat bound with lace, and interwoven on the back with the Ruspoli arms, he seemed to the French sentinels at the city gate a personage of some importance, and they saluted him with a good grace as he entered." One lively old man, a member of the Sant' Uffizio, who attended the evening parties at the house of Capegli on Thursdays and Sundays, and in his time had seen Clement XIII. would exclaim from his accustomed seat in a low armchair of Cordovan leather: "Ah, unhappy Rome! how it moved one's compassion to behold it without a pope! How melancholy, how wretched! General Miollis used to say that the emperor Napoleon would soon be crowned in the capitol! Crowned! The capitol, since the crown of the Caesars, never had and never will have any other crown, except the triple diadem! L'empereur!'L'empereur!' Whilst all this time Rome was so gloomy and miserable that it filled the beholder with pity. No foreign visitors, no arts, no commerce; grass grew over the Piazza di Spagna and on the Via del Babbuino. The people groaned in dismay and without hope. The household followers of the cardinals were scattered; the deans, the gentlemen 'di cappa,' the grooms, the coachmen, the masters of the palaces, all were sent abroad without support, and many had to live upon charity. Such was the scarcity in Rome, that in order to provide bread, and to prevent the people of Trastevere from breaking into open revolt, the French were compelled to build bakehouses and breadstores at the Ponte Sisto, at the bridge of the Quatro Capi, and at other places; otherwise 'L'empereur' might have seen more than one of his dragoons and grenadiers precipitated into the Tiber. As it was, I heard the Trasteverini, at the taverns of the Scala and the Santé Quaranta, shout with gnashing teeth: We will have the Pope! What! are we not Romans, and of the race of Troy? Without the pope Rome is a corpse: that it is! And if the emperor doesn't free the pope he will catch the keys of St. Peter upon his head! St. Peter has done for finer heads than his. Hurrah for the pope! Oh, my dear little Bartolo; what times were those! You might live a thousand years and never see Rome so wretched and deserted. Happy art thou, who hast never experienced our disasters! At present thou see'st everything flourish; the city again wears the aspect of a queen; the Seven Hills are filled with a concourse of strangers, and the arts have again taken up their abode in their midst. There is a general resurrection. Dost thou understand the meaning of all the gold and silver which the English, Germans, French, Russians, and gentlemen from every nation of the north scatter among us, during their prolonged winter visits to the sunny hills of Rome? When they were all Catholics, they paid their Peterpence, and now it is paid a hundred-fold, and all through the pope, for, without him, they would not come to see anything bere. Thinkest thou that during the captivity of Pius VI. and Pius VII. Pincio was as beautiful and delightful as now? Look at the terraces, the noble avenues, the shady walks, the marble steps, and the sculptured columus, the fountains, the antique statues, and the delightful pavilions. Would the Villa Borghese display so many carriages; such cavalcades of brilliant foreigners, such elegance among the ladies from every nation? Rome in those days, without the pope, descended to the rank of a provincial city, even to one of the most decayed; to that of Venice, Milan, Genoa, Turin. "Florence and Naples being commercial cities, although they had lost their nobility, suffered no depreciation in their arts or trades, nor in their local or foreign commerce; while Rome, deprived of the fine arts, had no other life but that of its churches: Rome, without a pope, had nothing left but its monuments." From all this it may well be imagined that Bartolo was a strenuous advocate of the pope. With such sounds continually greeting his ears, he beheld in the pope, not only the Vicar of Christ and the head of the Church, but also his sovereign, the father of the people, the glory and the light of Rome. With such lessons daily before his mind, the young man grew up; and they were imprinted still more deeply on his heart at the schools of the Roman college. In this institution he was the favourite pupil of the Abate Laureani and Graziosi, who frequently conducted him, together with a large circle of students, to divert himself at Monte Mario, or at the Villa Panfili, or at other delightful spots in the neighbourhood of Rome. Among other youthful sports in which he engaged in these places, his favourite game was that of football, in which, owing to his remarkable strength and activity, he excelled all competitors. As he grew older, his chief amusement consisted in a walk in the Corso, or a ride on horseback through the Villa Borghese. His gracefulness in the saddle, and the perfect elegance of his dress and demeanour, never failed to attract the notice of the young Roman ladies, and of the youth who were on a visit to Rome from foreign countries. Even the Roman princes willingly admitted him into their company in their evening rides, and in pleasant groups they galloped through the shady avenues of the Villa Borghese, crossed the meadows, passed through the middle of the forest, and round the small lakes and fishponds. The young ladies who frequented the delightful promenades, fountains, and arbours of the villa, fixed upon him their approving eyes; even the Roman princesses were unable to conceal their admiration. Yet, however Bartolo might be admired, he could not ascend the steps of the great palaces to participate in the levées or soirées of Doria, Borghese, Piombino, or of the other Roman princes; at most, during the carnival, he was admitted to the banquets which the Duke Torlonia gave to his foreign correspondents, and, afterwards, the same distance was resumed. Among the young Roman ladies who paid the most attention to the handsome Bartolo, was the rich and beautiful daughter of one of the chief directors of public edifices, who had become rich in a few years, owing to the magnificent undertakings of Cardinal Gonsalvo, Secretary of State under Pope Pius VII. This gentleman, whose great riches consisted chiefly in cash capital, had invested it in the city, in the purchase of houses and palaces, containing splendid apartments, which he let to cardinals and foreign noblemen who took up their residences in Rome. From these he collected large rents, and lived in opulence. One of the Roman Monsignori had made a proposal for the young lady in favour of his nephew, and her father was disposed to accede to the arrangement; but the young Flavia resolved, under any circumstances, to give the preference to Bartolo, and persisted with such firmness that the proposed match was broken off. The father, to whom fortune had not shown herself so propitious as to favour him with a son, gave his consent on condition that Bartolo should reside with him as his son; and Leonardo Capegli, having two other sons, readily agreed to the proposal Bartolo was a husband calculated to render happy his youthful wife; he never failed in that refinement, and those delicate attentions, which are so pleasing to ladies, and the honour and respect which he manitested towards her in public, displayed his tenderness and esteem. But the state of leisure in which he lived in the house of his father-in-law was almost the occasion of his ruin. Among the friends with whom he became acquainted in his new position were some who often led him into paths full of peril and remorse. For although he steadfastly maintained those principles of fidelity to the most delicate duties of a citizen, which had been sown in his heart by the uprightness of his father, still there were many others which had been neglected or forgotten, much to his misfortune. The young are frequently involved, by their presumption, in difficulties, which at first appear easily overcome, and only when too late find themselves entangled in the inextricable meshes of the strong net which has closed around them. It often happened that Bartolo owed his safety to the advice and good sense of his wife; for, after the first few years of her married life, she imposed upon herself the generous task of moderating the imprudence, and restraining the inconsiderate rashness, of her husband, who, far from being naturally inclined to profligacy, generally listened with attention to her mild and discreet counsels. From this want of experience, and the natural levity of youth, Bartolo was also materially protected by his constant friendship with the Abate Graziosi, who aided him with his advice, and recalled him into the ways of prudence, and delivered him from the paths of danger, into which he was hurried by the indiscretion of youth. To this excellent man many of the Roman youth were indebted, and it would have been fortunate for all, if they had attended to his advice, under the circumstances which immediately succeeded the death of Pope Gregory. Among the good offices rendered to Bartolo by Graziosi, must be numbered the wise endeavours to instil into his mind a love for the study of antiquity. In consequence of this, he formed a habit of visiting, two or three times a week, the Vatican museum, where he became acquainted with Monsignore Mezzofanti, a great lover of youth, and possessed of wonderful power in attracting it to virtuous pursuits and occupations. Bartolo frequently enjoyed the pleasure of taking the monsignore back into Rome in his carriage, and the opportunities thus enjoyed of conversing with a man of such eminent talents proved a living source of knowledge and wisdom. After the latter was elevated to the dignity of cardinal, the friendship with which he had honoured Bartolo, at the time of his visits to the museum and library of the Vatican, suffered no diminution. Therefore, on being privately informed by Flavia, that her husband frequented the evening assemblies of an English lady, characterized by conceit, prodigality, and deceitful flattery, and that he there engaged in play to a ruinous extent, the cardinal, to preserve him from the loss of both fortune and character, sought some method of removing him from so guilty a course, and at the same time of conferring upom him an honour. It so happened that the Pope wished at this period to visit in person some of the remains of the Pelasgic or Cyclopian walls of Latium, and the cardinal ap pointed Bartolo, in company with several professional men, to examine these walls, and to designate those which were the most remarkable, and in the best state of preservation. He eagerly accepted this commission, and thus personally assisted at the discussions of the most celebrated antiquaries and architects of Rome, with Viscount Canini, Visconti, Campana, and the Marquis Melchiorri, and with all the other learned men who took part in these examinations. He hastened to Rieti, and visited all the summits of the Aborigeni, seeking remains of those gigantic polygonal walls; he examined Ameria and Spoleto, in Umbria; he saw the Circle of Preneste; he overran the territory of the Equi, then descended into that of the Volsci, explored Norba, Sequi, Sezze, Terracina, and Circeri; but none appeared more imposing than the walls of Ferentino, and the citadel of Alatri. He stood amazed at those immense stones, some angular and others irregularly shaped, yet joined together with perfect exactness; he took their dimensions, sketched their forms, and examined their variety. In the Porta Sanguinaria, and in the second great circle of the Acropolis of Ferentino, he sought to realize the faultless skill of the architect, and the well-regulated perseverance of the workmen; but when he saw the immovable fortifications of the rock of Alatri, nicely mortised, fitted with so much evenness, and so artfully turned at the angles and projections of the bastions, Bartolo was struck motionless with astonishment. When he completed his commission and returned to Rome, he gave such enthusiatic descriptions of these wonders of the genius, power, and skill of the aboriginal inhabitants of Italy, that the Pope resolved to visit the Saturnian citadel of Alatri. CHAPTER II. ALISA. ABOUT the beginning of May, in the year 1846, on one of those brilliant mornings which offer so many attractions to the delighted eye of the foreigner who visits Rome, a travel ling carriage drove into the piazza of the Quirinal, and having at a rapid pace reached the Quatro Fontane, turned up the street of San Dionisio. At the sound of the bell the porteress was heard calling to another lay sister: :- "Call Alisa -quick! quick!-Alisa! Alisa! your father has come." Then appeared a young lady of about fifteen, of slender form, of a gentle and angelic beauty, and ready dressed for the journey. Her rich deep auburn hair was arranged with perfect taste and elegance. Her beautiful countenance beamed with joy, when she heard that her father was waiting at the gate. Her eyes became suffused with tears as she separately embraced her dear companions, who clung to her weeping, while they bade her adieu. Then running to her beloved teachers, she took her leave with grateful thanks and many tender caresses, during which they vied with each other in their parting proofs of love and affectionate kindness. In passing through the work-room, Alisa stopped a moment to admire some work in embroidery; and turning to a companion: --"How beautiful, Lauretta," said she; "how pleased your mother will be on her birthday! Happy art thou, who stil hast a mother!" Seeing the piano, she ran her fingers lightly over the keys in a mournful and trembling cadence; then as she came to the corner of a passage where a picture of the Blessed Virgin stood, with pious affection, she exclaimed, Oh, my mother! be thou my protectress. Julia," said she, to a companion, ber the flowers every day; you know that from the appearance of the first violet in spring, to the latest flower in autumn, the Madonna never missed my daily offering. And mind, there is that beautiful vase of Sevres porcelain, take care of it now; yon know it is for festivals; that burning heart which is painted upon it, is the counterpart of my own." She was still speaking when she arrived at the door. Again she affectionately kissed her companions, and amidst their tearful adieus the superioress consigned her to her father. He took her arm, and assisting her into the carriage, he drove off. For awhile she seemed bowed down with regret; her head was bent on her bosom, and her eyes covered, while her father, scated beside her, abstained from breaking in upon the first sorrow of his daughter, and remained contemplating her in silence. This was Bartolo. Three years and a half before this, he had lost the amiable and virtuous Flavia, his wife, who died shortly after the birth of a son. The infant was seized with convulsions, and, shortly after its birth, expired in the arms of its mother. Fever and inflammation supervened, and unable to resist the force of the malady, Flavia died. Bartolo was thus left alone with his daughter, Alisa, who had already, with his consent, been placed by her mother under the care of the superioress of San Dionisio while still very young. remem She had grown up among these pious und skilful nuns, and had been early instructed in the lessons of virtue and modesty. She was now an amiable and accomplished young lady, endowed with every quality that could endear her to society, or render her an ornament to the domestic circle. Her beanty and personal accomplishments were only surpassed by the qualities of her mind. To a refined and cultivated taste, she added a most brilliant imagination, and was possessed of all the vivacity peculiar to her age. Her heart, open and generous, glowed with every tender emotion; and her ardent disposition was enthusiastic and sensitive. After the death of Flavia, Bartolo, without abandoning himself to anything like a depraved life, had, nevertheless, allowed himself to be carried away by the attraction of certain societies of his friends, who in the midst of the pleasures of affluence involved themselves in political agitations, and discussed in their assemblies the most dangerous projects of state policy. Gregory XVI. was far advanced in years; but always great in the government of the Church; always invincible in the contests, which he waged with every power hostile to the Holy Roman See; always firm in his exalted |