But, somehow or other, I have wandered strangely from my subject. Scusi,—­but what has all this to do with the Bambino?

The Santissimo Bambino is a very round-faced and expressionless doll, carved, as the legend goes, from a tree on the Mount of Olives, by a Franciscan pilgrim, and painted by Saint Luke while the pilgrim slept.  It is difficult to say which was the worse artist of the two, the sculptor or the painter.  But Saint Luke’s pictures generally do not give us a high idea of his skill as a painter.  The legend is a charming anachronism, unless, indeed, Saint Luke was only a spiritual presence;—­but, as the whole incident was miraculous, the greater the anachronism, the greater the miracle.  The Bambino, however he came into existence, is invested, according to the assertions of priests and the belief of the common people, with wonderful powers in curing the sick; and his practice is as lucrative as any physician’s in Rome.  His aid is in constant requisition in severe cases, and certain it is that a cure not unfrequently follows upon his visit; but as the regular physicians always cease their attendance upon his entrance, and blood-letting and calomel are consequently intermitted, perhaps the cure is not so miraculous as it might at first seem.  He is borne by the priests in state to his patients; and during the Triumvirate of ’49, the Pope’s carriage was given to him and his attendants.  I was assured by the priest who exhibited him to me at the church, that, on one occasion, having been stolen by some irreverent hand from his ordinary abiding-place in one of the side-chapels, he returned alone, by himself, at night, to console his guardians and to resume his functions.  Great honors are paid to him.  He wears jewels which a Colonna might envy, and not a square inch of his body is without a splendid gem.  On festal occasions, like Christmas, he wears a coronet as brilliant as the triple crown of the Pope, and, lying in the Madonna’s arms in the representation of the Nativity, he is adored by the people until Epiphany.  Then, after the performance of Mass, a procession of priests, accompanied by a band of music, makes the tour of the church and proceeds to the chapel of the Presepio, where the bishop, with great solemnity, removes him from his Mother’s arms.  At this moment, the music bursts forth into a triumphant march, a jubilant strain over the birth of Christ, and he is borne through the doors of the church to the great steps.  There the bishop elevates the Holy Bambino before the crowds who throng the steps, and they fall upon their knees.  This is thrice repeated, and the wonderful image is then conveyed to its original chapel, and the ceremony is over.