the Holy Virgin is said to have worked, of late, through her images—the medallions of L'Immaculata—and by other outward means. This sermon was a perfect farce, and the principal actor in the piece was the priest himself, who wound up with great theatrical pathos, as he exhorted all to fall upon their knees and call upon “the mother of God!”
It cannot be denied, but that heathen polytheism still exists amongst this people, and hangs as a drag upon its religious and ecclesiastical life. It drags down divine to physical representations, and fills the earth with dead images and superstition. Nevertheless, it is also true—and, in some respects consolatory—that the ideals both of the images and the prayers, have become purified, are of a higher class. People sacrifice no longer to impure gods and goddesses, but seek favor from the pure and the holy—in what manner is another question—and the festivals of the Romish church, as they are now celebrated, are innocent and beautiful in comparison with the Saturnalia and Lupercalia of ancient Rome, with the worship in the temples of Cybele and Venus.
May 24th.—I paid a visit to Gibson's atelier in the morning. He was alone, and I enjoyed great pleasure in the calm contemplation of his statues, and from my conversation with him. He had just finished the model of his Bacchus from the antique of the Vatican. He took me into the room where it stood alone, a noble, beautiful figure, a copy of which ought to stand in—all wine vaults. Because this Bacchus is not a drunken demi-god, as we in the north picture this Greek deity—but a gentle teacher, a lover of
