The design of the Duomo is said to be taken from Monte Rosa, one of the loftiest peaks of the Alps.  Its hundreds of sculptured pinnacles, rising from every part of the body of the church, certainly bear a striking resemblance to the splintered ice-crags of Savoy.  Thus we see how Art, mighty and endless in her forms though she be, is in every thing but the child of Nature.  Her most divine conceptions are but copies of objects which we behold every day.  The faultless beauty of the Corinthian capital—­the springing and intermingling arches of the Gothic aisle—­the pillared portico or the massive and sky-piercing pyramid—­are but attempts at reproducing, by the studied regularity of Art, the ever-varied and ever-beautiful forms of mountain, rock and forest.  But there is oftentimes a more thrilling sensation of enjoyment produced by the creations of man’s hand and intellect than the grander effects of Nature, existing constantly before our eyes.  It would seem as if man marvelled more at his own work than at the work of the Power which created him.

The streets of Milan abound with priests in their cocked hats and long black robes.  They all have the same solemn air, and seem to go about like beings shut out from all communion with pleasure.  No sight lately has saddened me so much as to see a bright, beautiful boy, of twelve or thirteen years, in those gloomy garments.  Poor child! he little knows now what he may have to endure.  A lonely, cheerless life, where every affection must be crushed as unholy, and every pleasure denied as a crime!  And I knew by his fair brow and tender lip, that he had a warm and loving heart.  I could not help regarding this class as victims to a mistaken idea of religious duty, and if I am not mistaken, I read on more than one countenance the traces of passions that burned within.  It is mournful to see a people oppressed in the name of religion.  The holiest aspirations of man’s nature, instead of lifting him up to a nearer view of Christian perfection, are changed into clouds and shut out the light of heaven.  Immense treasures, wrung drop by drop from the credulity of the poor and ignorant, are made use of to pamper the luxury of those who profess to be mediators between man and the Deity.  The poor wretch may perish of starvation on a floor of precious mosaic, which perhaps his own pittance has helped to form, while ceilings and shrines of inlaid gold mock his dying eye with their useless splendor.  Such a system of oppression, disguised under the holiest name, can only be sustained by the continuance of ignorance and blind superstition.  Knowledge—­Truth—­Reason—­these are the ramparts which Liberty throws up to guard her dominions from the usurpations of oppression and wrong.