But to turn to a pleasanter subject.  When the Pope entered, borne in his chair of state amid the pomp of his tiara and his white and gold robes, he looked to me thin, or, as the Italians murmur anxiously at times, consumato, or wasted.  But during the ceremony he seemed absorbed in his devotions, and at the end I think he had become exhilarated by thinking of St. Carlo, who was such another over the human race as himself, and his face wore a bright glow of faith.  As he blessed the people, he raised his eyes to Heaven, with a gesture quite natural:  it was the spontaneous act of a soul which felt that moment more than usual its relation with things above it, and sure of support from a higher Power.  I saw him to still greater advantage a little while after, when, riding on the Campagna with a young gentleman who had been ill, we met the Pope on foot, taking exercise.  He often quits his carriage at the gates and walks in this way.  He walked rapidly, robed in a simple white drapery, two young priests in spotless purple on either side; they gave silver to the poor who knelt beside the way, while the beloved Father gave his benediction.  My companion knelt; he is not a Catholic, but he felt that “this blessing would do him no harm.”  The Pope saw at once he was ill, and gave him a mark of interest, with that expression of melting love, the true, the only charity, which assures all who look on him that, were his power equal to his will, no living thing would ever suffer more.  This expression the artists try in vain to catch; all busts and engravings of him are caricatures; it is a magnetic sweetness, a lambent light that plays over his features, and of which only great genius or a soul tender as his own would form an adequate image.

The Italians have one term of praise peculiarly characteristic of their highly endowed nature.  They say of such and such, Ha una phisonomia simpatica,—­“He has a sympathetic expression”; and this is praise enough.  This may be pre-eminently said of that of Pius IX. He looks, indeed, as if nothing human could be foreign to him.  Such alone are the genuine kings of men.

He has shown undoubted wisdom, clear-sightedness, bravery, and firmness; but it is, above all, his generous human heart that gives him his power over this people.  His is a face to shame the selfish, redeem the sceptic, alarm the wicked, and cheer to new effort the weary and heavy-laden.  What form the issues of his life may take is yet uncertain; in my belief, they are such as he does not think of; but they cannot fail to be for good.  For my part, I shall always rejoice to have been here in his time.  The working of his influence confirms my theories, and it is a positive treasure to me to have seen him.  I have never been presented, not wishing to approach, so real a presence in the path of mere etiquette; I am quite content to see him standing amid the crowd, while the band plays the music he has inspired.