The ceremonies of the Church, have been numerous and splendid during our stay here; and they borrow unusual interest from the love and expectation inspired by the present Pontiff.  He is a man of noble and good aspect, who, it is easy to see, has set his heart upon doing something solid for the benefit of man.  But pensively, too, must one feel how hampered and inadequate are the means at his command to accomplish these ends.  The Italians do not feel it, but deliver themselves, with all the vivacity of their temperament, to perpetual hurras, vivas, rockets, and torch-light processions.  I often think how grave and sad must the Pope feel, as he sits alone and hears all this noise of expectation.

A week or two ago the Cardinal Secretary published a circular inviting the departments to measures which would give the people a sort of representative council.  Nothing could seem more limited than this improvement, but it was a great measure for Rome.  At night the Corso in which, we live was illuminated, and many thousands passed through it in a torch-bearing procession.  I saw them first assembled in the Piazza del Popolo, forming around its fountain a great circle of fire.  Then, as a river of fire, they streamed slowly through the Corso, on their way to the Quirinal to thank the Pope, upbearing a banner on which the edict was printed.  The stream, of fire advanced slowly, with a perpetual surge-like sound of voices; the torches flashed on the animated Italian faces.  I have never seen anything finer.  Ascending the Quirinal they made it a mount of light.  Bengal fires were thrown up, which cast their red and white light on the noble Greek figures of men and horses that reign over it.  The Pope appeared on his balcony; the crowd shouted three vivas; he extended his arms; the crowd fell on their knees and received his benediction; he retired, and the torches were extinguished, and the multitude dispersed in an instant.

The same week came the natal day of Rome.  A great dinner was given at the Baths of Titus, in the open air.  The company was on the grass in the area; the music at one end; boxes filled with the handsome Roman women occupied the other sides.  It was a new thing here, this popular dinner, and the Romans greeted it in an intoxication of hope and pleasure.  Sterbini, author of “The Vestal,” presided:  many others, like him, long time exiled and restored to their country by the present Pope, were at the tables.  The Colosseum, and triumphal arches were in sight; an effigy of the Roman wolf with her royal nursling was erected on high; the guests, with shouts and music, congratulated themselves on the possession, in Pius IX., of a new and nobler founder for another state.  Among the speeches that of the Marquis d’Azeglio, a man of literary note in Italy, and son-in-law of Manzoni, contained this passage (he was sketching the past history of Italy):—­