national ideal, for the formation of heroic armies. Of
such stuff, doubtless, were the Roman legionaries. When will the
Italians learn to use these men as Fabius or as Caesar, not as the
Vitelli and the Trinci used them? In such meditations, deeply stirred by
the meeting of my own reflections with one who seemed to represent for
me in life and blood the spirit of the place which had provoked them, I
said farewell to Cavallucci, and returned to my bed-room on the
city-wall. The last rockets had whizzed and the last cannons had
thundered ere I fell asleep.

SPELLO.

Spello contains some not inconsiderable antiquities--the remains of a
Roman theatre, a Roman gate with the heads of two men and a woman
leaning over it, and some fragments of Roman sculpture scattered through
its buildings. The churches, especially those of S. M. Maggiore and S.
Francesco, are worth a visit for the sake of Pinturicchio. Nowhere,
except in the Piccolomini Library at Siena, can that master's work in
fresco be better studied than here. The satisfaction with which he
executed the wall paintings in S. Maria Maggiore is testified by his own
portrait introduced upon a panel in the decoration of the Virgin's
chamber. The scrupulously rendered details of books, chairs, window
seats, &c., which he here has copied, remind one of Carpaccio's study of
S. Benedict at Venice. It is all sweet, tender, delicate, and carefully
finished; but without depth, not even the depth of Perugino's feeling.
In S. Francesco, Pinturicchio, with the same meticulous refinement,
painted a letter addressed to him by Gentile Baglioni. It lies on a
stool before Madonna and her court of saints. Nicety of execution,
technical mastery of fresco as a medium for Dutch detail-painting,
prettiness of composition, and cheerfulness of colouring, are noticeable
throughout his work here rather than either thought or sentiment. S.
Maria Maggiore can boast a fresco of Madonna between a young episcopal
saint and Catherine of Alexandria from the hand of Perugino. The rich
yellow harmony of its tones, and the graceful dignity of its emotion,
conveyed no less by a certain Raphaelesque pose and outline than by
suavity of facial expression, enable us to measure the distance between
this painter and his quasi-pupil Pinturicchio.

We did not, however, drive to Spello to inspect either Roman antiquities
or frescoes, but to see an inscription on the city walls about Orlando.
It is a rude Latin ele