[17th April 1829] This evening we heard the miserere sung in St. Peter's. The miserere, as here sung, is, I am told, the finest piece of music to be heard in the world. There were no women among the singers. But there was one circumstance connected with the persons forming this choir, which, whatever may be its influence towards making the music more imposing on the people, does certainly countenance a good deal of what we Protestants have to say against the practices of the Holy See. It may be unchristian-like to look on the Pope as the scarlet whore, wrong to say that his doctrine is idolatrous and damnable; but the miserere at St. Peter's is certainly as vile an insult to reason, as heathen-like a clap-trap for the ear, as anything that ever was adopted by British Druid or priest of the Hindoos. This thing is enough to justify the coarsest jests; such as SWIFT'S about the catholic holy-water, which he calls the Pope's universal pickle.