It was art which was the special attraction to Coley of all the many spells of old Rome.  He spent much time in the galleries, and studied ‘modern painters’ with an earnestness that makes Ruskinism pervade his letters.

At Florence, Coley wrote as usual at much length of the galleries, where the Madonna del Cardellino seems to have been what delighted him most.  He did not greatly enter into Michel Angelo’s works, and perhaps hardly did their religious spirit full justice under the somewhat exclusive influence of Fra Angelico and Francia, with the Euskinese interpretation.  The delight was indescribable.  He says:—­ ’But I have written again and again on this favourite theme, and I forget that it is difficult for you to understand what I write, or the great change that has taken place in me, without seeing the original works.  No one can see them and be unchanged.  I never had such enjoyment.’  His birthday presents were spent on a copy of the beloved Madonna del Cardellino, of which he says:—­’though it does not reach anything like the intensity of feeling of the original, is still a very excellent painting, and will always help to excite in my imagination, and I hope to convey to you, some faint image of the exceeding beauty of this most beautiful of all paintings.’

Readers chiefly interested in the subsequent career of the missionary would feel interrupted by the overflowing notes on painting, sculpture and architecture which fill the correspondence, yet without them, it is scarcely possible to realise the young man’s intense enthusiasm for the Beautiful, especially for spiritual beauty, and thus how great was the sacrifice of going to regions where all these delights were unknown and unattainable.  He went on to Venice, where he met a letter which gave a new course to his thoughts, for it informed him that the deafness, which had long been growing on his father had now become an obstacle to the performance of his duties as a Judge, and announcing his intention of retiring.

In the fulness of his heart he wrote:—­

’Venice, Hotel de la Villa:  May 2, 1851.

’My dearest Father,—­I have not been in Venice an hour yet, but little did I expect to find such news waiting for me as is contained in Jem’s letter, and I can lose no time in answering it.  It is indeed a heavy trial for you, that, in addition to many years of constant annoyance from your deafness, you should be obliged now, in the full vigour of your mind, and with the advantage of your experience, to give up a profession you so thoroughly delight in.  I don’t deny that I have often contemplated the possibility of such a thing; and I had some conversation with Uncle John last winter in consequence of my fancying your deafness was on the increase, though the girls did not perceive it; I hope with all my heart I was wrong.  I told him what I know you feel, that, painful as it will be to you to retire from the Bench, if any dissatisfaction was expressed at your not hearing