however, we had gained the summit, which was barely large enough to afford our party standing-room, the grandeur of the scene was such as no mind can conceive, no tongue describe. On our right, at about the distance of a quarter of a mile, and towering far above us, was an enormous hill of red-hot rock and half-molten lava, from which, at about our level, issued liquid lava, which descending in a stream of about sixty feet in width, precipitated itself into a lake of fire far below us. Facing us was a dark, stern-looking cliff, from which arose immense clouds of smoke and steam, of a deep reddish colour, to twice the height of the mountain; and which, as the sheet and forked lightning played upon them, incessantly assumed a great variety of hues. At intervals, huge blocks of rock, some as large as a small cottage, and of a white heat, were projected high into the air with great violence, preceded and followed by thunder and deep rumblings, and accompanied by showers of steam and ashes. I never witnessed anything so awful in my life; and, as the thunder pealed high above our heads, and stones were falling all around us, you will readily admit that there was some ground for fear. Indeed we quickly changed our position. On our left, at about the distance of half a mile, and near the bottom of a very deep ravine, was another mass of fire, from which issued a stream of lava. This also threw out large quantities of stone, accompanied by a loud hissing and crackling noise. Perhaps the depth of this ravine below us might have been one thousand feet. While watching it, we perceived three jets of lava break forth from the rocks above the large stream; and nearly at the same time three others broke forth from the face of the cliffs outside the old crater; whilst clouds of remarkably fine ashes were continually pouring down upon us, annoying and nearly blinding us. One other element of grandeur I mention, and then I have done. During the whole time we stood there, there raged such a storm of wind that we were obliged to cling to one another, and sometimes to throw ourselves on the ground.”

H. W.

YOUNG BELLARMINE AT STUDY.*

In order to give him an education corresponding to the station of his family, his father determined to send him to Padua, whither also a cousin, Ricciardo Bellarmino, was about to proceed; and as no Tuscan subject might go out of the state for education, without licence of the Duke, such a licence was obtained from Cosimo I. How to find a suitable companion and protector, who might first accompany him into the Venetian territory, and then take some oversight of him when at college, was a question that cost some anxiety; and at length it was resolved to confide that service to a member of the Society of Jesus.

The favourable disposition towards the Society that led to this choice, was not accompanied with sufficient foresight in the father. The mother was fascinated with admiration of the new fraternity. The son, too, over whom Cynthia swayed the influence of a fond parent, imperceptibly drank in the spirit of asceticism and of romance that the Jesuits were diffusing throughout Italy; and even while the family were looking around them for a Jesuit companion, and the house was full of preparation for his departure to Padua, and the ducal passport was to invest the journey with an air of official privilege, little Robert, shut up in his chamber, meditated on futurity, and his imagination already pictured an ideal of perfection.

Cynthia had instructed him in the very religion of Jesuitism, and her own example gave a vast emphasis to her instructions. Often had the household heard the sound of a whip; and Camilla, an elder sister, had told him how she had been in their mother's chamber, unperceived, and seen her lay her shoulders bare, and lash them fearfully, until reverence for the mother alone restrained the child from rushing out of her hiding-place, and ending the penance by snatching away the knotted scourge. Already he had written acrostics on VIRGINITY, and composed stanzas in dispraise of the world. And now he fancied that in Padua he might find some outlet from

* From a forthcoming second volume of "Celebrated Jesuits."

the world. The words of a Prophet, which he had often heard in chant, resounded again within him, in the silence of his chamber: "O that I had wings like a dove! then would I fly away, and be at rest." On this his mind lingered. In this his heart became entangled: "and be at rest.” Then, holding colloquy with himself, it seemed as if voices answered again from the depth of his bosom. Nay, it seemed as if an angel spake, advising renunciation of the world, provoking courage to abandon its endearments, and impelling him to fling away its honours.

In this frame of mind he left Montepulciano, and came to Padua; not roused from the dream by the conversation of his travelling-companion and master, the Jesuit Sgariglia. One object henceforth absorbed his thoughts. He sought some religious order, within whose inclosure he might delight himself in the fragrance of discipline, contemplate models of perfection, plunge into the depths of science, lay hold on what is most excellent, and learn to reject all that is mean and vile. And he was led to believe that such a home for his weary soul would be found in the Society of Jesus. Sgariglia directed his literary pursuits, and guided his aspirations towards the summit of repose. His cousin Ricciardo caught the flame, which now enwrapped them both; and, consumed with desire after this heaven upon earth, they communicated intelligence of the passion-to their fathers? No. That would have been consulting with flesh and blood. Being now too spiritual to condescend so low, they sent up their prayer for acceptance to Diego Laynez, General of the Jesuits at Rome, beseeching him to admit them into the army of Jesus Christ.

An answer to their letter came without delay. Laynez offered them welcome; but that Robert might gain his object by the gentlest way, (ut quid vellet Robertum id quàm mollissimá via consequi,) directed them to ask leave of their fathers.

By this time Robert was about seventeen years of age; and when the report of his attachment to Jesuitism reached his father, the good man was astounded at intelligence which he might reasonably have expected, and began to bemoan the frustration of those hopes that he had set on the most

promising of his children, having counted on him chiefly for a repair of the fortunes of the family, now considerably reduced. Both the young cousins were in secret correspondence with the General of the Jesuits, their fathers being kept in utter ignorance. Vincenzo first observing that his son Robert was frequently in private conversation with his cousin Richard, suspected what was going on; but when the request came to permit him to take the Jesuit habit, it was bitter indeed. Robert talked high about a vocation of the Holy Spirit. The father, for fear of the Inquisition, durst not demur to the idea that the Holy Spirit of God called people into the bosom of Jesuitism; but he wished to see some proof of constancy in the lad, some evidence of the Divine will. Robert persisted in pleading a heavenly summons to the Company; but his father sternly forbade him to enter a Jesuit church, or to speak with a Jesuit, for twelve months, and required him only to attend mass in a church of the Dominicans. The General had allowed them to remain at home for that period; and the two mothers danced with joy when they found that, by a half-measure of the husbands, they and the boys had gained all their hearts' desire. Cynthia, however, found that her husband was firmer than he had seemed to be, and therefore gave him no rest, day nor night. He resisted. She fretted, and fell sick; and then he relented for a little. The residence of Alessandro Cervini, at a place called Vivo, served as a temporary school. Alessandro himself acted as master; and, adapting his lessons to the scenery around, expounded the Georgics. Young Richard applied himself to Greek in the Books of Aristotle De Poësi. Erminio, his brother, afterwards Protonotary Apostolic, and Referendary of both Signatures, read Demosthenes De Corona, and Robert dived into Cicero Pro Milone. All this time they held themselves to be novices of the Society.

Robert, already an Ecclesiastic in heart, felt that manner of life to be insufficient to satisfy his vocation; and using that licence which the Church of Rome loves to reward rather than to check, turning it, whether good or evil, to her own account, mounted the pulpit of the parish-church without any invitation; and on festal days gathered the country people

YOUNG BELLARMINE AT STUDY.

together, preached to them in a very simple way; but, with impassioned fervour; and, after the sermons, catechised them in the superficial but captivating manner just introduced by the Jesuits themselves. Two of his lady-relatives were determined by one of those sermons, as is related, to go into a nunnery. Meanwhile, Monks of different orders invited him to join their families; the Dominicans, not unreasonably, desired him, as possessing the right kind of talent for a preaching Friar. His father went so far as to consent for him to become a Dominican; but absolutely refused to give him to the Company. Robert, "with modest liberty," said that he was called to that community, had already performed a novitiate of twelve months, and could not draw back without manifestly resisting the Holy Spirit. Father and son contended hotly, and many were the battles that they fought. At length the boy conquered, the mother exulted, and the poetic fire of the young novice flamed in a composition of heroic verses written to celebrate the defeat. "We should offer up to God," said Cynthia, "the best we have."

That was a notable day when Robert and his cousin were to set out for the great city. Relatives and friends filled the house. The lads vied with each other in showing how bravely they could snap the cord of natural affection. Some of the party checked their tears, or were less touched with sadness, because of less intimate relationship. Many wept outright. Cynthia displayed her miserable piety, by surrendering the prize to Sgariglia and his fraternity without a tear. Vincenzo, the father, fine man, then in the best of his days, sobbed like an infant; and, after the last embrace, wailed aloud. Robert, setting his young foot in scorn upon wealth, rank, kindred, honour, and love too, stepped coolly over the parental threshold, and leaped upon his horse. As his father saw him ride away, he cried, "There goes the hope of our family! That is the one who might have raised us up again. He might have renewed the memory of his uncle." His uncle was a Pope; and, as the Jesuits professed to be shut out from all ecclesiastical preferment and civil dignities, the good man could have no idea that this lad would rise to be a Cardinal, but thought that he was thenceforth buried in sworn poverty.