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and the people are poor-the fields are fertile, while their cultivators are squalid and unhealthy-men and women sew the seed; but saints and angels reap the harvest-the vines are graceful, the grapes luscious; but the wine is too often sour-the roads are magnificent, while the inns are wretched-the country swarms with priests, but is destitute of religion-teems with redundant population where celibacy is the CARDINAL VIRTUEglitters with gems and precious stones in the midst of penury and starvation-exhibits despots on the plains, and bandits in the mountains-abounds in all the materials of wealth and power, but possesses few flourishing manufactories, except those of monks, music, and maccaroni. In fine-the nobility is sunk in sloth, the Church in plethora, the populace in pauperism!

If we narrow our periscopic glance, and concentrate it on the opposite side of the Capitol, we shall there find ample objects for contemplation-every species of stimulus for kindling up excitement in the minds of northern visitors, whose sensibilities are acute, and whose moral appetites are keen (from long abstinence) for intellectual enjoyments.

MUSEUM OF THE CAPITOL.

ON descending from the TOWER of the CAPITOL, and turning to the right, we enter an edifice which even Lady Morgan (no great idolator of antiquity) allows to be "well worth a pilgrimage to Rome, though that alone existed there." That the MUSEUM of the CAPITOL excited in my mind the tumultuous tide of emotions which it raises in the minds of others, may be readily granted; but I may observe that, after each visitation, a train of ideas arose in my imagination, which haunted me, in gorgeous dreams, for nights in succession. I suspect that many others besides myself have regretted the difficulty, or rather the impossibility, of recording on the tablet of memory the splendid and extravagant imagery which excited (perhaps morbid) feelings conjure up in the mental phantasmagoria of sleep, when disjointed fragments of previous sensations reverberate on the common sensory of the soul, uncontrolled, unchastised by waking reason. If report speak truth, these chaotic images have afforded materials for magnificent descriptions of the morning pen. Raw beef-steaks and indigestible condiments for supper are said to have

furnished the untrammelled imagination with food for the highest flights of poetry and romance-while libations of laudanum, like the genius of Shakespeare, have

"Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new."

Many of these alleged facts may be fictions, as far as regards individual descriptions; but the principle is founded in truth, and the extent of its influence on moral impulses and physical results is very far beyond the range of general belief. It is not, however, in dreams alone, that such gross materials act on the mind, or at least on some of its faculties, through the medium of corporeal organs. In every gradation of society, from the monarch to the mechanic, the imagination, nay, even the judgment, is influenced by material agents acting on the organized structures of the body, during the plenitude of intellectual exertion. But it is with moral agencies or impressions that I have now to do—the above being a digression.

MILLENNIUM MARMOREUM.

In despite of the authority of Tertullian and Lactantius, I long had my doubts respecting the advent of the MILLENNIUM—and never entertained the slightest expectation of its commencing in my time. What was my surprise, as well as joy, to find that I had lived to witness this blessed state, this reign of the saints on earth! A short tour in Italy offered to my senses proofs as strong as those of "holy writ," that PAPIAS was no dreaming enthusiast, but a veritable prophet. If the cessation of war and crime-the subsidence of every turbulent passion-the annihilation of envy, hatred, and malice-the establishment of harmony and concord among all the jarring elements of animated Nature, be signs of a MILLENNIUM, then I say that the gallery of the GRAN DUCA at Florence, the Museum of the Capitol, and of the Vatican at Rome, together with the Studii of Naples, furnish the most incontestible proofs. Gods, angels, and saints have descended upon this little beauteous globe, to mingle in peaceful quietude with men and animals of every tribe, of every species, and of every age!

Behold that majestic form, that celestial countenance! It is the Father of the Gods. He has ceased to

"Shake his ambrosial curls and give the nod,"

which were too often the signals for bloodshed and injustice! JUPITER has become a reformed rake, and consequently the best of husbands. He has discarded all his former mistresses; and though he is evidently cold to JUNO herself, the latter stands with placid aspect, and without evincing the least

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symptom of jealousy towards her once faithless spouse. The presence of Daphne, Leda, Calisto, and Alcmena, excites no suspicions in the Queen's mind. Her Majesty of Olympus, indeed, seems to be aware that TIME has cured her lord and master of his erratic propensities, and that a prying watch over his rambles is no longer necessary. Such is one of the many happy effects of the Marble Millennium !

It has been a mooted subject of discussion among divines, philosophers, and metaphysicians, whether or not a remembrance of the past shall accompany us to a future state of existence? The question is beset with thorny difficulties! If memory enables the disembodied spirit to look back on the transactions of this life, Paradise itself will not be free from agitating retrospections! If, on the other hand, all remembrance of the past be sunk in the grave, death is a virtual annihilation, and a future state of existence is, to all intents and purposes, a new creation. All our present ideas of retributive justice, and of future rewards and punishments, harmonize with the doctrine that consciousness of pre-existence shall obtain in another worldwhether that be a better or a worse than the present. The marble Millennium which we are now contemplating, favours this natural supposition. Although every passion is hushed, memory seems to animate, or at least to leave an impression on the forms of gods and men in the millennium.

It

Mark that martial figure, with nodding plume and glittering helmet. is the God of WAR. But MARS no longer "thunders on the plain," like a turbulent chief inciting others to break their heads, his own being secured by a secret amulet from wound or peril. The millennarii around him, however prone, in their former lives, to warfare, are now too wise to obey his call-even if they had the inclination! Would that nations took a lesson from the marble Millennium !

APOLLO treats us to some elegant postures indicative of former propensities—but neither bends the bow, nor strikes the lyre! Python forgives the wounds it has received from the arrows of the god, and humours his celestial pride by rehearsing its own death.

Not far from Apollo stands his crescented sister, still evincing MEMORY. DIANA is no longer permitted-or perhaps inclined, to destroy the fields of the industrious farmer-but the goddess is surrounded by her dogs—a circumstance that may furnish consolation to the country SQUIRE, on quitting this earthly scene, as it affords ample grounds for hope, that—

-admitted to an equal sky,

His faithful dogs will bear him company.

VENUS looks as modest as a Vestal Virgin, and is, perhaps, as pure. Incapable of feeling the "soft impression," she is unable to communicate it to

others. Like a very few beauties who have passed their meridian, she stillcommands admiration; though she never more can inspire love!

MERCURY Continues to evince his volatile predilections. Balanced on the breath of a Zephyr, he has stood ready for ages, to execute the messages of the gods. But his masters have ceased to issue their commands-probably because they are no longer obeyed.

It would be endless to even glance at the numerous divinities who have descended from the skies, to take part in the celebration of the MARBLE. MILLENNIUM on earth. Elysium and Tartarus have furnished their quota of representatives for this interesting scene. In fact, the infernal regions appear to have been nearly deserted-for PLUTO and PROSERPINE, with almost the whole of their illustrious subjects, as well as their stern judges, Minos, Eachus, and Radamanthus, and their no less stern gaoler Cerberus, have re-crossed the Styx, and (to the no small astonishment and annoyance of old Charon, who never contracted for return-fares) now breathe the fresh air of Italy.

But enough of the gods. The vast assemblage of mortals, famed for the parts which they acted in a former life, and now re-appearing in the Millennium, might afford copious materials for useful as well as curious meditation! The long line of rulers, regal, republican and imperial, with their families and connections, each individual peaceably taking the station into which, murder or merit, bribery or right, happened to place them in the jostle of human contention and competition, is one of the most prominent phenomena of the Millennium. There they stand, emblems as well as illustrations of history-facts without feelings, records without bias, narratives without passion. We are distracted and astounded by the prodigious congregation of princes, heroes, legislators, philosophers, orators, poetsof men and women whose fame resounded from Pole to Pole-whose ambition lit the torch of war, whose eloquence roused the passions of applauding multitudes, whose poesy delighted the ears, and whose philosophy improved or corrupted the hearts of mankind—all living, or at least residing, in peace, if not in friendship, with each other!

Cæsar calmly surveys his assassins, without uttering the memorable exclamation, et tu quoque Brute! He has forgiven, if not forgotten the mor、 tal stab of his friend. AGRIPPINA and GERMANICUSs are again united; neg, lecting Piso, and despising Tiberius. The younger AGRIPPINA smiles on her hopeful son, NERO. The remembrance of incest crimsons not the cheek of the former-the remorse of parricide disturbs not the countenance of the latter. Nero's features are as tranquil as when he tuned his lyre to the conflagration of Rome. Marius and Sylla stand reconciled. They have evidently experienced the benefits of purgatory. The former has washed off the mud of the Minturnian marshes, and the murder of his fellow citizens the latter

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175 'is purified from the slaughter of ten thousand Romans, and, of what he considered as far more important—the MORBUS PEDICULOSUS of which he died amidst the fumes of wine and the riot of debauchery, in the beastly haunts of Puteoli. Julian has got his wish. He is surrounded by the Heathen gods and goddesses, whose worship he laboured to re-establish on earth. Geta has forgiven the fratricide of his brother Caracalla-Arcadius and Honorius have narrowed the boundaries of their joint dominions-Constantine enjoys a double triumph; over Maxentius in life, and over sincerity in death!-Eliogabalus has recovered his sex, and lost his appetite-he has been dragged from the Tiber, which was polluted by his bleeding corpse, and re-instated as a Cæsar, in that city whose inhabitants he degraded (with little compunction on their parts) beneath the level of the most obscene animals that crawl on earth-in a word, the mighty and the puny, the virtuous and the wicked race of Roman emperors and rulers have re-assembled on the Capitoline hill, from whence their empire first extended to the boundaries of the earth, and to whose narrow summit it is now again contracted!

But to descend from rulers to their subjects :-Behold the venerable, the highly-gifted patriot and philosopher-CICERO. He stands unmoved in the presence of the murderous Triumvirs. He breathes no vengeance against Antony, who proscribed him-he casts no reproach upon Augustus, who sacrificed him. He is silent when he might denounce with safety. But he has probably seen more than the page of history has revealed-though that may convince us that the anguish of soul which terminated in his proscriber's suicide on the sands of Egypt, was fully an equivalent to the bodily fear which preceded his own assassination among the rocks of Gaeta. If he upbraid not his friend Augustus for surrendering him up a victim to the hatred of Antony, it is perhaps because he is conscious that, on the great political stage where he chose to act his part, FRIENDSHIP is only a character assumed, like other theatrical characters, during the time it is wanted. Or does the presence of TERENTIA, that faithful wife who fought his battles during his timorous exile—to whom he indited his unmanly epistles from Dyrrachium—and whom he afterwards repudiated, without cause, in the hour of prosperity, and at the age of 61, for a flirting girl-does her presence, I say, prevent him from hurling the charge of ingratitude at the head of Augustus?

Near to TULLY stands his quondam friend and firm supporter, the stern, the inflexible, the stoic CATO. He is no longer "pent up in Utica" by the sword of Cæsar, but now confronts him on the summit of the Capitol. This rigid censor, who stumbled over straws and leaped over temples-who arraigned a Roman consul for the crime of dancing, while he himself turned brigand to plunder a rich but defenceless miser of all his pelf-who deposed an unoffending prince, because he was weak, and robbed him because he was