Its history is decidedly a romantic one. The volume to which it belongs was once in the possession of Cardinal Giovanni Girolamo Albani, and from him was called the Albani manuscript. He died in 1591, and the manuscript, which tradition says at one time came into the hands of Clement XI., passed on down to the possession of another Cardinal Albani, Giovanni Francesco, at whose death in 1809 it was sold. A small dealer in curiosities obtained it, and Mr. Denistoune, the great collector, saw it in his shop near the Ghetto in Rome, and bought it for 22 scudi, about £5 sterling. Mr. Denistoune brought the book to England, and offered it, so the family story goes, to the British Museum for £250, but failed to persuade the trustees to purchase it; and so ten years afterwards when he returned to Rome he took the manuscript with him.

Gregory XVI. had by this time died, and the carelessness which existed in his time as to the purchase of art treasures in Rome had become a thing of the past. The new Pontiff, Pius IX., was much more particular, and he was ably seconded by Count Rossi in his endeavour to retain in the Eternal City its chief artistic treasures. Count Rossi heard of the Albani book, and Mr. Denistoune, alarmed for the safety of his treasure, wrapped it up in paper, addressed it to his bankers in London, and, explaining that it was his bank pass-book, gave it over to a lady friend who was leaving for England, to convey to London.

Within three or four days of the lady's departure, the agents of the Vatican called on Mr. Denistoune to demand the surrender of the treasure which had, they declared, been stolen from the Library in the Vatican of Clement XI. Mr. Denistoune declared he had not got the book they wanted and gave them permission to search his house. So accurate had been their information that they went at once to the very place in the bookcase whence the volume had been so lately removed, and, not finding it there, they searched the house from top to bottom.

A charge of theft was then formulated against Mr. Denistoune, and he was taken off to the Castle of St. Angelo, and there confined. Mr. Denistoune, however, at once appealed to the English consular authorities, who quickly gave the police to understand that they had exceeded their powers, and, after two days' imprisonment, Mr. Denistoune was liberated, and at once left for England. The late Earl of Ashburnham then heard of the book, and tried hard to get its owner to sell it to him. At last, in an unguarded moment, Mr. Denistoune cheerily said that years before he had offered it to the British museum for £250, and he should not be content with less than three times that price now. Lord Ashburnham jumped at the figures, produced a bundle of notes, and in a few moments obtained the coveted treasure for £750. Until a year or two ago, the little volume rested at Ashburnham Place, but it was privately sold quite recently, together with several other fine manuscripts, to Mr. Henry Yates Thompson. It is now in his famous and most wonderful collection, and it is to his kindness that I owe the privilege of handling and describing the book. The story has been pieced together from several narratives told me in Italy.

There are four splendid illuminated pages in the volume, each by a different hand, and each page the work of some great artist at his very best. There are also borders and other illuminations, which are probably the work of yet a fifth miniaturist.

The Perugino page is signed:

PETRVS PRVSINVS PINXIT,

and represents Saint Sebastian fastened to an upright pillar of wood, and being shot at by two archers.

These archers are gaily dressed: one, wearing a cap, has long red stockings, brown shoes, and a blue vest and a brown drapery around his waist; the other, who is bareheaded, has blue stockings, yellow boots, a red vest, and green drapery around his waist.

Above, in the air, are two angels, one of whom is turning towards the martyred saint. One angel has a drapery of puce, with green sleeves, and has yellow wings; the other wears orange, with red sleeves, and has green wings. The drapery around Saint Sebastian is puce colour. In the distance is a lovely typical Perugino landscape, extensive, and full of light and air; there are hills and rocks, trees and water, exquisitely painted, and revealing, in their wonderful effect of never-ending distance, the best work of the artist. The silhouetted effect of the trees is particularly characteristic. Above is the lofty dome of blue sky, bearing upon it the strange, frilled, fleecy clouds in which the artist so delighted, and illuminated by the glow of light that he was so easily able to produce.