ROME, PAGAN AND PAPAL.

THE precise object of this very readable little volume it would be difficult to describe, because, we suspect, the writer had no precise object. At first you are inclined to suppose that he is an ingenuous youth bitten with Tractarian ideas, and bent on a mission to Rome for the purpose of can- did investigation; but the impartiality is too absolute, the want of definite object too apparent, to countenance the supposition. Then, although there is a certain naivete almost approaching to "greenness," which makes a wonderment of many things that are matters of course to the traveller in Italy, you gather from the context that the author has paid more than one visit to that land. Some familiarity with the customs and apparently with the language of Italy is strangely accompanied by so much want of critical nicety, that scarcely a sentence in that tongue is correct in point of orthography. Some of the most obvious and notorious rules are vio- lated. The author says of himself, that he can never pass a church-door without entering; yet he is no bigot. On the whole, from the evidence of his volume, he seems to be an amateur theologian, with an antiquarian tarn; and the gossip on such subjects which it has been his delight to collect, overflowing perforce, it finds vent in a book.

In form, the volume is a series of letters ; in substance, it may be di- vided into three portions, which do not indeed stand distinctly apart, but are mingled without order—antiquarian reference of existing ceremonies to the parallels recorded of ancient Paganism in Italy; accounts of mo- dern religious ceremonies and observances ; and criticism on the testheti- cal and moral operation of such practices. Much of this is beaten ground, especially the archteology. But the author is so earnest, and his point of view in the modern matters is taken with such consistent zeal, that considerable freshness is imparted even to the tritest subjects. Min- gled with them are points that have been but slightly touched before, have escaped notice for want of equal zeal in previous observers, or have lain quite out of the tourist's ordinary track.

The manner of the writer's treatment is curious, and often seems to combine seriousness with an inconsistent levity ; but the apparent in- congruity is is not difficult to explain. His liberal disposition makes him willing to regard the customs of the stranger without prejudice; while his desire for real piety, however expressed, makes him accept as good many ceremonies that yet, for their inherent departure from what he considers grave and decorous, provoke his ridicule. The descriptions are often striking, through their earnest simplicity. Here is one, tagged with an antiquarian retrospect. "A certain number of the faithful meet together at a given period to flagellate themselves. There is a church or oratorio near the Palazzo Doria, which last Lent was rather renowned for such exhibitions, and several times I visited it from curiosity; but never shall I forget my terror on finding myself unexpectedly present at such a scene, though in another place. A Franciscan friar had been preaching on the subject of sin and penitence, which he treated in such a manner as to drive the people almost to phreasy; there was indeed weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth,' without a figure: but what was my astonishment, on the Friar exclaiming, Alla penitenza! alla penitenza!' to see the vast congregation around me in a moment on their knees, each armed with a rope or knotted hand- kerchief, flagellating themselves most unmercifully ! As for the friar, he used a scourge of iron links, which, as they rattled against the pulpit, heightened the effect wonderfully. The obscurity of the church, rendered still more obscure by the clouds of dust—the shrieking and weeping of the women—the lashes, both loud and deep, which resounded from a thousand hacks—and the piteous cries for mercy to the Madonna—all combined, rendered the scene as vivid and as terrible as any, the most fervid imagination has ever figured to itself in its dreams of Hell. As for me, imagine and pity my position—left in a moment, standing and alone, the only heretic, nay, the only foreigner, in the midst of this multitude of fanatics. I assure you, it was no mere picture, no vain resemblance, no idle dream of purgatory; it was a real, substantial purgatory I endured. A cloud of ropes and handkerchiefs whizzed and circled around my body, which bore ample testi- mony to the severity of the exercise; as also to the hearty good will, perhaps, with which the heretic was smitten. Let this suffice for a description of Roman Catho- lic flagellation. Like each of the other acts of devotion I have mentioned, this has he counterpart in the customs of the Heathen. 1 Kings xviii. 28, And they cried aloud, and cut themselves,' says the sacred writer, after their manner, with lancets and knives, till the blood gushed out upon them.' Amongst the Ro- mans, too, there was a sect called Faaa&i, much addicted to the temples, whose devotion, for the most part, consisted in shaking their heads and cutting their bo- dies. Heliogabalus, I think it is Montfaucon who asserts, shook his head amongst them—no great recommendation, indeed, of the practice; but, such as it is, let the benefit of it be given to the modern Roman, who, like his ancestor, still regards the mutilation of the body as a service holy and acceptable unto God."

In his account of the confessional, the writer brings out its personal en- forcement of practical morality, its notorious opportunity for very prac- tical immorality, its use as the political engine of absolutism, and its oc- casions for the grasping of ecclesiastical avarice; yet he condemns not, but is rather disposed, with a kind of charitable optimism, to acquiesce in the practice for Italy as she is.

" Of the permanently moral influences of confession, I acknowledge that, from what I have witnessed in this country, I have but a slight opinion; still, in the preeent social and moral condition of Italy, destitute as it is of any high public sentiment of morality, and without any of those means of elevating the character which abound amongst us, I do not see how confession could be dispensed with. Indeed, I should compare this lovely land to the human body when labouring under a complication of disorders, the most violent of which can be healed or ass .only by the encouragement of the less violent This is not saying much for we influences of a holy sacrament; and yet these are my honest and de- hberately-formed opinions, after a residence here of four years. You will perceive pretty clearly, then, that I regard the confessors of Italy as a kind of moral police, or, to speak with greater precision, a police for the morals. My servant, for in- stance, is unfortunately too apt to confound the distinction between meson and if SUM. I send him every now and then to his confessor, with orders to bring back a sign that he has been there; which sign, to be specific, is generally his reve- rence's snuff-box. The consequence is, that I am secured from petty pilfering,- ht is deterred from any overt act of theft; but his character remains the same: teat only is the motive of his conduct. Singular is it that since I began this letter one such case as this has occurred; and accordingly he has received orders to pay the customary visit, on his return from which, should he be guilty, there will be res- titution and kissing of hands; 'for,' said a priest to me, ' we do not absolve until

restitution, or the promise of restitution has been made.' • • •

" In the ordinary intercourses of society, confession is anything but favourable to the development of the mend character of man; often creating an anabitiotut, overreaching, selfish spirit. To illustrate this, imagine the case of a man on his death-bed,—the Marchese—, for instance, who died at Naples in the last year. His confessor, a Jesuit, is in attendance; and the dying man, in mingled regret for the past and apprehension of the future, demands, ' What shall I do to be saved?' It was one of those moments when the whole being of a man is subject to him whom habit has taught to regard ass spiritual superior. When, then, to his question, it was replied, ' Endow the Church with thy worldly goods,' there was no hesitation,—the Order was enriched with some hundreds of thousands of ducats, and the family had the consoling assurance that the 31archese's soul would be prayed most satisfactorily out of purgatory."

Our further extracts shall be taken from a very striking chapter re- counting the proceedings of a religious "mission " in a small rural town,—one of the scenes out of the tourist's settled route to which the writer's predilections have led him. The " mission" vies in its fanatical extravagaucies with the camp-meetings of America ; but far exceeds them in artistical arrangement and imposing effect. The actors are usually Franciscan friars ; men in great part drawn from the people, pas- sing among them, and knowing well how to influence them. At the town in question, a " relay " of twelve attended at the church for several days ; with sermons, penances, and other stimulants to piety.

THE OPENING.

Their arrival in a country town is the sure precursor of a great change. From morning till night there are masses or sermons or confessions; the social aspect of the little community is completely altered. No longer will you see the peasantry dancing the Tarantella in the country, nor hear the merry laugh in the piazza; an universal gloom seems to have settled upon the people, who now refuse all diver- sions as suddenly and violently as they will again plunge into them when the voice of the charmer has ceased to charm. On entering the church, it was certainly, a remarkable scene I witnessed. A Franciscan friar, one of the relay of twelve who had been sent for the occasion, was holding forth in terms less polished than strong; for amongst the epithets he applied to his audience I remember was, "ye devils in the flesh"; and amongst the threatened punishments were Hell-fire and flames—epithets and threats which very naturally alarmed the poor people, and produced a degree of consternation which it was terrible to witness.

EVENING SCENE.

The whole company orfriars, with their heads crowned with thorns and pre- ceded by the cross, advanced to the high altar, and there flagellated themselves— the entire congregation, amounting to nearly two thousand souls, accompanying this sacrifice with most fearful shrieks. The excitement seemed to increase day by day (the performance being got up by the most finished actors); for on the following evening, at the conclusion of the sermon, the vast multitude, in the midst of whom I stood, sank at a word upon their knees, and, each producing a rope, be- gan to scourge themselves most vigorously. Imagine the scene, if you can; for I can give you no adequate description of it. A dimly-lighted church, rendered still more obscure by the clouds of dust which same on every hand,—a host of fanatics on their knees, groaning, shrieking, praying, crossing, and scourging.

A PICTURE.

On entering, I found three of the friars in different parts haranguing as many separate congregations, until at length they were interrupted by a procession of the unmarried youth of the country (the women being clothed in white), all wear- ing crowns of thorns on their heads. As they moved slowly on, they chanted some office of the church in the minor key, the organ lending its accompaniment, until, having arrived at the altar, they knelt and received the Santissima, and then retired in the same order. The coup &ell was exquisite; the costumes, beauty, and youth of the devotees, gave them an interest which I can ill describe.

TllE KISS OF PEACE.

One of the friars, taking a cross in kin hand, planted himself on the high altar, and, after making one or two remarks on the great duty of luring one another, called upon all who were at enmity to embrace beneath the cross of Jesus Christ and seek a mutual reconciliation. The effect of such an exhortation was magical. First, came one tottering under the weight of years, and placed himself be- neath that sacred standard—and then another, his bitter enemy. It seemed as if on the confines of the grave they wished to give and receive that pardon they would shortly stand in need of from their /tinker. Thus, from different parts of the church, were seen every now and then individuals advancing and embracing under the cross. It was a happy village that night; for pride had kept many apart, whom strong though secret love would have readily united; and It was a blessed religion the spirit of which, with healing on its wings, came and softened down the harsh feelings and petty feuds which divided the little community.

THE SERMON.

These stanzas, [a canticle, in the vernacular Italian,] chanted by the friar and taken up by the multitude, produced a most lugubrious effect, and readily disposed the minds of the isinobile ro4us for any impression the preacher was disposed to make. The subject of the sermon was " Deuth "; which was of course painted in all the terrors a fertile and excited imagination could suggest, and enforced Oc- casionally by references to Rousseau, Henry VIII., and other equally uncatholic individuals, of whom the greater portion of the audience doubtless knew as little as of the Grand Lama. After exhausting all his oratory, the friar at length pro- duced a human skull and thigh-bones—the real arywnentuni ad hominem—and dangling them over and rattling them against the pulpit, exclaimed, "Here, love- ly girl ! see to what you will be reduced! "—an appeal which was responded to by wailing and sobbing from all parts of the church, ieterrupted only by the preacher's exclaiming, "Ails penhenza! ails penitenza 1 " Then, as on the pre- ceding occasions, the congregation again fell upon their knees, and with ropes re- peated the same castigation amidst the usual fearful cries.

ANOTHER SERMON.

The subject of the discourse was the Last Judgment; which you will have no difficulty in believing was handled in a manner to terrify the poor audience, the preacher tieing every art his imagination could suggest to affect such minds as those he was addressing; sometimes throwing veil over the Madonna'e face, ori turning her round (for she moved on a pivot and presenting her back to them in token of alienation of feeling: sometimes she ing her garments, which were black, allusive to the train of thought in which he was indulging; and, lastly, prodn- cing an iron chain and again scourging himself violently, the harsh clank of which against the panels of the pulpit, united with the heavy sound of the ropes as they once more fell upon the shoulders of the unfortunate fanatics, and the sobs and shrieks of the females, produced a confusion so distressing, that I could no longer endure it.

A THIRD.

The subject of the sermon was Hell,-fit subject for such a preacher and such an audience! It might have been Omniscience itself that was speak- ing, so intimate was the knowledge displayed of the secrets of the unknown world; and a terrible experience, it might have been supposed, had taught the friar all the horrors he detailed. It was towards the end of his discourse that he called for a lighted pitch-torch, which was in waiting, and, deliberately pluck- ing up his sleeve, held out his wrist immediately over the rising flame. Such was the torment to which every member of the sinner would be subjected hereafter throughout all eternity ! It was remarkable that there was no flinching on the part of the friar, so strongly his nerves seemed to be strung; nor was there any deception: for I went to see him the next day, and his wrist then, as on several litter occasions, was bound up, and he evidently suffered. Indeed, his general suffering was great; for I have known him, in the intervals of his exertions, to be confined to his bed and throwing up blood; and though under medical orders not to leave his chamber, yet the morning and evening always found him at his post. If there was fanaticism in the conduct of this man, then, there was at least sincerity. But what a spectacle was that I have just described, and what a scene of confusion ensued ! The house of God, that holy retreat from all the cares and turmoils of the world, seemed, as if by magic, to he changed into a Pandemonium, and to bring before the bodily eye the terrors which had haen painted in such lively colours.. Wailings and sobs and shrieks arose, not from one or two, but from the mass; and, as if the elements themselves sympathized in the scene, a sirocco wind was roaring without, ready to burst in at the first opening, whilst the thunder pealed aloft and the lightning flashed in broad sheets through the windows.