The church had stood thus for about an hour, burning in silver glory, when, at a given sign, a change took place. In a moment, millions of golden flames darted forth over the dome and the façade, first, as if in chaotic confusion, but soon arranging themselves into regular cruciform flowers of burning gold. In the dazzling splendor of these, the pure outlines of silver flame vanished, and the whole church seemed to gleam forth in golden fire. An audible exclamation of joy reached us from the side of the Vatican; music sounded, and all the bells rang.
The pleasant freshness of the evening air, the undisturbed peace in which we were able, from M. Lehman's balcony, to contemplate the spectacle; the Tiber, with its clear star-reflections, and on the horizon St. Peter's brilliant church,—the great monument of art and nature,—the small but agreeable company within the room, and not the least, the artist himself, and his pictures, all contributed to make this evening one of the richest in enjoyment, to me, in Rome. Of the many symbolical spectacles which the Holy Week affords, the illumination of St. Peter's appears to me the only one which is perfectly beautiful and pure, as well as intelligible to all.
Three hundred and sixty men, it is said, are required in this illumination, which is not without danger.
On the second day of Easter, I was present, by the invitation of Madame ——, at the ceremony of the initiation into the Catholic church of the young English lady, N. H., in the Convent of the Sacré Cœur on Trinita di Monte. Monsignor L—— performed
