place as hostess of some osteria beyond the Tiber. Walking with the spindle under her arm, poor and busy, she meets the imperator and coldly wishes him: "A thousand years of life." Nero paused and wondered at the strange expression. He asked the woman, why this compliment? She was prepared. Her short speech was only meant as to awaken his curiosity, as to place better her bitter criticism. "So your crimes can long continue!" Overpowered by her daring, he commands her to come the following day to the palace, bringing with her all the thread she had spun. Berta, considering this a dead verdict, goes on her errand-to find herself rewarded with as much land as her spun thread could surround. All poor women followed her example, going to the palace and asking for a present; hoping to make profit of Nero's instantaneous generosity-but they got the only answer: "It is no more the time, that Berta spins!"

Another emperor, Marcus Aurelius, had, besides others, this advantage: that his statue has been exposed in public perhaps ever since the time of its erection in the Forum. Probably this favor of the middle-ages has been bestowed on the statue as it went under the erroneous name of the Christian emperor, Constantine. I do not speak here of its wanderings from the Forum to Saint John in Lateran and the legends of the middle-ages preserved in the marvellous little book "Mirabilia urbis Romae," and how the great tribune, Cola di Rienzo, made abuse of the bronze, just to have wine spouting through the nostrils of the powerful animal-before Michelangelo placed it safely on the Capitol. At present two stories are told. traces of gold on the statue will spread, so the Roman tells you; and when the rider and his horse will be completely covered the golden age will return. The other story is more ingenuous. Somebody demands: "Do you know why that man sits on his horse without its bridle?" The same person will resolve the solution. "That emperor had

The

a reign without limits. Therefore they represented him free on his horse. Where it would go, to the right or the left, the emperor would always remain on his own territory. Do you not see, that he indicates the same idea with the noble movements of his outstretched arms." In the same way the Romans of the middle-ages interpreted. the gestures of the Dioscuri-the two young men on the Quirinal hill, Prassitele and Fibia (sic) counting on their fingers the years of the destiny of Rome.

Their counting was as mere guesswork compared to the security given by "cose fatali," the things of fate, like the gilding of the statue of Marcus Aurelius and the stability of the Colosseum, which merits to be called a safe standard, from a chronological standpoint.

The old Roman rhyme is still known:

"Fino ch'er Coliseo durera" (As long as the Colosseum stands) "Puro Roma su stara" (Will also Rome endure) "Quanno er Coliseo caschera" (When the Colosseum will fall) "Puro Roma ha da casca" (Also Rome must fall) "Quanno Roma finira" (When Rome will be ended) "Tutto er mondo s'ha da scapicolla" (The whole world will turn upside down)

Something about the Colosseum has puzzled the Roman-how to explain the numberless holes in that mass of stone. The memory has lost sight of the times, when the ancestors were digging in those nitches for the bronze clasps, which once fastened the marble mantle to the stone-work. The explanation now given contains, perhaps, more ancient remembrances. The incisions are explained as the start of a conspiracy to destroy the Colosseum. Every Roman is familiar with the mining of quarries. From excursions. along the Via Flaminia, where hunters search the lonesome hare, or in the mountains of Tivoli, they remember ac

curately the preparation of this kind of work. The Colosseum presents this same pigeon-hole surface. Musing upon history in the real folkloristic way, they suppose that the plot was made by the Barbarians to blow up the Colosseum. Never mind if gunpowder was known or not known in those days. The Barbarians were the only ones who could conceive the vandalistic plan to such an extent. For us it is important to observe how tenacious the record of the Barbarians destroying Rome keeps its place in the vague historical notions of the populous.

The older legends, which I found not known to the Romans of the reign of Victor Emanuel III., concerned in more precise form the invasion. Attila, ready to invade Rome, was hindered at Porta San Paolo by the appearance of the apostles, Peter and Paul, with the drawn sword. As this is not specially a matter of faith, the Romans are not taught about it. With those kinds of legends, half political history, half religious, and especially

with those which are more completely of a religious origin, we are not sure whether to arrange them in the folklore or to exclude them. The story of "Domine quo vadis" (whither goest thou?), told by ecclesiastical teachers to the young generation, is certainly more a subject of catechism than of folklore. It is easy to make mistakes in the division of what appertains to the popular mind and soul, and of what is brought by more cultured persons. I know quite an instructive example from my own observation. Passing through a popular quarter of Rome, I remarked in the street a circle of young boys and girls in very expressive attitudes-all with different gestures, ecstatically looking towards heaven. One acted as judge, pointing to the onlooker the most esthetic figure, according to his capable judgment. I saw in those youngsters the Raphaels, Michelangelos and Lavinia Fontanas of the future. I carried the example along with me-how advanced the youthful play in Italy is

in point of esthetics, compared to our rough boy-plays and to our doll-house girl play! But I soon was disillusioned —for Italian educators told me that nuns teach the children how to represent in tableaux vivant the celestial rapture of different saints of the calendar. My play of free art proved to be a continuation of the conventschool, of the Christian Doctrine.

We have to include in the mediumculture of the Italians also a respectable portion of fine arts, exposed to the public in the churches. To certain people the Saint Theresa of Bernini and the Moses of Michelangelo are, by reason of their being parishioners of the churches containing these masterpieces, daily or weekly acquaintances. Also certain iconographical and hagiographical details are known by the whole populous, from statues and paintings, as to give lessons to arthistorians from countries where the atmosphere is less pervaded with religious art. This goes much farther than Saint Sebastian with the arrows, and Saint Catherine with the wheel. Perhaps, we have to make a concession for the popular stage in the folklore. At least we will not be at a loss, if we consider the ordinary representations as proof in our experiments-and, by a peculiar conglomeration of facts, we will have to extend our investigations also to the popular image. The old, known, beloved, told-over story is al ways in the centre. If we take for example the misfortunes of Beatrice Cenci, we will find them many times announced for some cheap theatre and presented in the oleographs at the walls of the homes of small citizens. Here the popular theatre and the popular art prove the existence of a great predilection in folklore for the drastic and dramatic story of the beautiful Cenci. The effect can also go in the opposite direction.

The story of Tosca, a real Roman happening, long forgotten by the Romans, and taken up by Sardou, comes back to Rome in the form of a libretto of the opera by Puccini. Now the opera has conquered absolutely the

popular favor, and the same factories of cleographical art, which immortalized la Cenci in the prison, prepare by the hundreds: last acts of the opera la Tosca. The Romans observed, with pleasure, that the terrific story was originally played on the wide and tested stage of their own city. There is no doubt, that la Tosca belongs now to the folklore of Rome-but she only entered since Puccini began to reign over every Italian, who can hum and whistle.

Real and genuine is Sixtus V.

Never forgotten, he steps on the boards of the stage or is quoted as the very instant of a severe ruler in ordinary conversation. A "Sisto quinto" is the antithesis of a "Nerone."

The play with his name on the boards has always a crowded house and an insured success. From the long list of popes, Rome remembers before Pius the ninth only the sixteenth century: Sixtus the fifth (1585-1590). A Roman expression, on the style of "Non e piu er tempo, etc.," holds the quintessence of the reign of Sisto Quinto.

"Non annera sempre accusi"

(It will not always go that way)

This is the pope who revealed himself the very day of his election a great reformer. The story is really worth telling.

One of the chapters of the short pontificate of Sixtus V. shows him as the pope. who made for the time of his reign an end to the daring deeds of the brigands, who infested the whole. papal territory. In the pleasant book of Hubner-Sixte Quint-you will find a full description of his dealings with this enemy. Now, it is very remarkable that our short story introduces Sixtus V., disguised as a monk, going to the Colosseum to discover a crowd of brigands. We know that the former circus of Flavius has been, in older times, a hiding place for highway-robbers. This tradition haunts still the traveller, when he comes to admire the immense circus on moonlight nights. As to sixteenth century quaint tales about the place, I recommend the de

scription Benvenuto Cellini gives in his autobiography of spiritualistic experiments in the ring.

The pope knew how to wear the habit to perfection. The brigands had surely met often in their plundering life, hermits living in the caverns of the mountain-wall behind the Campagna. Yet in present times they avoid to disturb the harmless sentries of solitude and devotion. No wonder that the disguised pope got his entrance. He even was at once charged to turn the grill before dinnertime. Turning it in one direction he changed it sometimes, with the laconic observation: "Non annera sempre accusi." After the meal, one by one, the robbers went to sleep. The monk then called the guards-the "sbirri”—and the next day the expression was used in another sense: the brigand-"life goes not always like this," as it was

changed by a man, very busy in Sixtus' days-the executioner of Rome!

The Romans remember in a greater light their pope, who planned the betterment of their city. His great building-impulse is symbolized in the erection of the obelisk of Nero. The immense monolyth had been neglected ever since the fall from its pedestal. Sixtus risked to place it, dedicated to Christianity, before Saint Peter's. The man for the occasion was easily found. An acquaintance of the days when Sixtus was not yet pope, and still in disgrace before his predecessor, a poor mason-boy, Domenico Fontana, had attracted his attention and favor. When the former monk rose to the zenith of his power, he appointed Fontana his architect. In no other architectural feat had the fortuned Fontana dared so much as when ordered by his loving master to fulfil this task.

I

T is a grand picture, a grand scheme, and the heart of the patriot swells as he contemplates it-these simple men, carrying the immutable credentials of their fellows, dignified by their invested powers, assembling laboriously from every corner of the State to devise together, in the sight of God and under the power of a free electorate, what is best for the whole, and then, by a simple "aye" or "nay" making or unmaking the laws of a sovereign people.

It is, as we say, an edifying picture, and with some regret we turn from its contemplation to view the real assembling of one, at least, modern Legislature.

Men, as of yore, are converging on the capital, some few with high resolves and purposes single to be true to their trusts, free from all unholy alliances. But they are not many.

The real Legislature-and here shall be set down only that concerning which we have knowledge-arrives under a black slouch hat, a black cigar between his lips, his bulky form close attended by his secretary and two smirking lieutenants.

Grandly, as becomes the sovereign power, he makes his way into the citadel of law-giving, which the people, in the name of a free government have erected, the nominal legislators skurrying to make way for him, cringing at his approach, fawning to do his slightest or weightiest bidding.

On, down the tile-lined corridors he goes, corridors so lately echoing to vows of constancy to truth and justice, until he comes to a little chamber set aside ordinarily to the majesty of the

Law personified in the High Sheriff of the County.

Therein he enters and pauses, frowning upon some, smiling a smile of sunshine of patronage on others. Are the preliminaries ready? Have his orders been carried out? Have certain bills been prepared and are certain schemes incubating as has been arranged and directed? Very well. The Legislator seats himself in a cushioned chair prepared for the mighty. Another black cigar; a light; the cuspidor-the Legislature, de facto, is in

session.

Opposite, across the corridor, little men are flitting hurriedly to and fro in the confines of two magnificent chambers. Normally they are the Legislators. Some of them think that they really are; others try to think so; the most of them take their orders and think not at all.

A man dedicated to spread God's word and do His work, stands up before them and asks divine guidance upon "this honorable assembly. Be Thou present," he implores, "and directs their councils. Give them wisdom for truth and justice. Before Thee they stand as supplicants, looking to Thee alone," and every ear in the great chamber is strained to its uttermost to learn if the Great One across the corridor has arrived yet.

The good man knows the part he plays in the great hypocrisy: he, like all normal men, knows that these nominal legislators look no higher for guidance than to the chamber across the way; that therefrom the laws of the people emanate and that no recommendation may become operative and