The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1843-10-05
From the N. Y. Tribune.
St. Peters Church at Rome,
Letter from UaiY.

For the last few days have done moth
ing but run to and fro from S.. Peters.
have been amidst the pomp and confus-
ion of Holy Week, the great annual feast
of the Church. Thirty-six thousand stran'
gers are in Rome, so says the police TO
his Holiness, and the crowds that flock to
witness the ceremonies at St. Peters lit
orally block the street. l will not weary
you with a long description of their I'M
meaning ceremonies.
Long trains of Cardinals carriages,
with their pumed horses and gilded trap
pings and liveried footmen, streaming up
to the Church, and numbering thro' the
colonades, Pope, Bishop and Cardinals,
ia their rich vestments, passing up and
down glorious St. Peters in solemn pro.
cession, amid the waving of palms, the
kneeing of whole ranks of armed men.
and the braying of rumpets-klssing the
Pope's toe - washing OF feet, waving Of
incense and chanting of priests in the
midst of gaping multitude, make up the
scenes of Holy Week. The ceremony
of carrying the Pope on the shoulders Of
IHeI, Ike I'LL Olu WOuuI, w duu uUWu
the Church, is ridiculous in the extreme.
There were but two impressive things
amid all these pompous ceremonies. One
was the chanting of the Miserere in the
Sistine Chapel. Thirteen candles, in the
form of a triangle, are lighted up when
the chanting of the lamentations COM
mences. One after another is ex,inguish.
ed as it proceeds, until the last one at the
top of the triangle, which represents
Christ, is put out. The others, repre-.
senting the prophets and good men tina.
preceded our Savior, one by one go oul
in the night of the grave, and the lament
alton grows wilder and deeper. But as
the Prophet of Prophets, the Light, the
Hope of the world, disappeared, the la
ment suddenly ceased. Not a sound was
heard amid the deepening gloom. The
catastrophe was too awful, and the shock
100 great to admit of speech. He who
had been pouring his sorrowful notes over
the departure of the good and the great
seemed struck dumb at this last, this
greatest wo. Stunned and Supplied he
could only contemplate the mighty disas-
ter. | never felt heavier pressure on
my heart than al this moment. The chap,
oil was packed in every inch of it - even
at the doors, far back into the open hail.
and yet not sound was heard. could
hear the breathing of the mighty multi
tude, and amid it the frequent halfdrawn
sigh. Like the chanter, each seemed to
say" Christ is gonel We are orphans
all orphansl' The silence at length
became too painful. thought should
shrek out iu agony when suddenly low
wall, so desoIale and yet so sweet. so de.
spairing and yet so tender, like the last
strain OF broken heart, slowly stole out
from the distant enclosure and sweIled
over the throng, that the tears rushed
unbidden 10 my eyes, and could have
wept like child in sympathy. 1t then
died away, as if the grief were too great
for the strain. Fainter and fainter, like
the tone of lutte, it sunk away, as if its
last strain was over, when suddenly there
burst through the arches cry so pierre
ing and shrill that it seemed not the voice
of song, but the language of wounded
and dying heart, in its last agonizing
throe. The multitude swayed TO it like
The forest 10 the blast. Again it ceased,
and the broken sobs of exhausted grief
alone was heard. In moment the whole |
choir joined their lament and seemed to
weep with the weeper. After few notes,
they paused again, and that sweet, mel
Rncholy voice mourned alone. Its tone
is still in my ear. ! wanted 10 see the
singer. 1t seemed as if such sounds could