spot of the martyrdom of St John and St Paul,not the apostles-only two saints of that name. Lorenzo di Medici wrote a pious drama, or mystery, commemorating their fate, which was acted at Florence with all the magnificence of his reign. These saints, who were brothers, were treated with distinguished favour by Santa Constantia for being Christians, and beheaded by Julian the Apostate for the same reason. Their death was avenged by a certain St Mercury, who got out of his grave on purpose to kill that emperor in a battle. These two murders are the only incidents of the piece; which ends, like Tom Thumb, in the slaughter of the whole dramatis personæ.

The monks had never heard of this drama, but seemed pleased when I mentioned it, though they did by no means agree to my proposal of having it enacted in honour of their patron saints, on the spot of their martyrdom.

The gardens of this convent, which hang on the summit of the Coelian Hill, amidst a dark grove of cypress, command one of the most striking prospects which even Rome can boast,-of the mighty Colosseum in the plain below, the Triumphal Arches, and the mouldering palace of the Cæsars, which crown the dark summit of the Palatine.

An aged palm tree, which is supposed to have flourished here from time immemorial, and may almost be reckoned a natural antiquity, still throws its tropical shade in the court of the convent. I once descended from these gardens into the vineyard be

neath them, to examine the ancient walls of unknown Roman ruins, which here surround and support the precipitous banks of the Coelian Hill. Their date, and author, and purpose, are alike unknown. The deep caves and recesses unto which they are formed, are not easily referable to any known species of building.

Facing the Colosseum, there is an isolated fragment of ruin, to which tradition has assigned the name of the Rostrum of Cicero, and from which, it is said, he harangued the Roman people. I scrambled up its broken walls, and stood on the green platform at its summit, merely because the name of Cicero had attached to it a charm; for most certainly his voice never poured forth its persuasive eloquence here.

The Superior of this convent, with four hundred other priests and friars, was sent to Corsica, and was imprisoned, (as he said) during two years and a half, in a dungeon, upon bread and water, for refusing to take the oath of allegiance to Buonaparte.

At the expiration of that period, he was liberated with his companions from prison, but kept under strict surveillance; and only regained his liberty when the Pope returned, and the French were expelled.

The conduct of these ecclesiastics will be censured or applauded, according to the views of those by whom they are judged. This, however, I will observe, that their fidelity to their banished and degraded master, through exile, poverty, and impri

sonment, when no hope of the re-establishment of his power could actuate them, has something in it of sincerity and disinterestedness, that would seem to place the reality of these qualities above suspicion, -even although their possessors are friars.

LETTER LXXIX.

MIRACLES

31st April, 1817.

THE age of miracles I thought had passed, but I have discovered my mistake. Within this little month three great miracles have happened in Rome. The last took place yesterday, when all Rome crowded to the Capitol to see an image of the Virgin opening her eyes. Unluckily, we were in the country, and did not return in time to witness it, for as this miracle was thought a very improper one by the higher powers, who would rather she had winked at certain practices which it is thought she had not only opened her own eyes upon, but those of other people-she was carried away, and certain priests, who are supposed to have been in her confidence on this occasion, have been shut up in prison. Two officers of the Guarda Nobile are also in custody at the State prison at the Castle San Angelo, for expressions which implied no extraordinary admiration of the present state of things. It is so nearly impossible to get at the bottom of any thing in Rome, that both these disgraced military and clergy may have given much more reason for

their enthralment than we hear of; but this very concealment of their offences, makes one rejoice in living under a government, in which the truth must be made known, and in which no man can be shut up in a dungeon at the pleasure either of priests or princes, without being tried and condemned by his fellow-citizens. In this respect, things are neither better nor worse here now, than in the time of the French, who shut people up with quite as little ceremony, and still less lenity.

The last miracle was of a much more orthodox description.The miraculous Madonna, in this ease, opened her mouth instead of her eyes, and spoke to an old washerwoman, to whom she imparted her discontent at being so much neglected, and her chapel left in such a dirty and ruinous condition; while so many other Madonnas, no better than she, had theirs made as fine as hands could make them. The Madonna spoke no more, but the old washerwoman proved a very loquacious reporter of her wishes and sentiments. The news of the miracle spread like wildfire; thousands (I am not exaggerating) may be seen every day crowding to this little old chapel, near St John's Lateran, about four in the afternoon, the hour at which the Virgin addressed the washerwoman; it being supposed that this is her favourite time for conversation; but I have not heard that she has made any new observations. Not only the lower orders, but crowds of well-dressed people, and handsome equipages of all sorts, daily throng the door; and the long green avenue that leads within the walls to the