The defunct queen of Naples, Maria Christina, whom Rome intends to canonize, has marvellously promoted, as has been already intimated elsewhere, the ends of the popedom, in persuading the king by a pretended miracle so far to re-establish the abolished immunities of the clergy and the jurisdiction of the bishops. One morning the poor widow of a soldier presented herself at the royal palace with a petition to lay before the king, wanting to be admitted to a conference, as having to communicate a matter of the utmost importance to the king. On being repulsed by the guards she insisted, made a clamour, and on being threatened unless she would be quiet, she broke out into such lamentations that the officers of the guard and others ran to see what was the matter; and passing from mouth to mouth, the news of this strange pertinacity reached at length the apartments of the king, who was told of it by persons belonging to the court. He then gave orders that the woman should be brought before him, being curious to know what this most important secret might be, of which she announced herself the messenger. The widow, after presenting the petition in which she asked for a pension, told the king that the glorious Maria Christina, sainted and beatified in heaven, had several times appeared to her in vision, encouraging her to present herself in her name to the king her husband, and to say to him on the part of God, that most heavy chastisements and grievous scourges threatened the kingdom and the throne, and that God's wrath would not be appeased until the church should be re-established in its former splendour, and God's ministers have restored to them the power usurped from them by his ancestors. The king, in consternation, or pretending to be so, replied that if the mission entrusted to her were really such as she affirmed it to be, his blessed spouse would not have failed to authenticate it with some miraculous sign; otherwise any one might have it in his power to boast of visions that were the mere creatures of his own imagination. Well then, rejoined the woman, "Santa Maria Christina told me that if your majesty refused credit to my words, it would be enough that I presented you with this ring, which she in the vision placed on my little table, and which on awaking in the morning I actually found there ;" and so she presented the king with a ring. The king broke out into an ecstacy of astonishment, on recognizing in it the very rich marriage ring with which the deceased queen had been buried. He called together the courtiers who had been present at the obsequies, at the sealing of the three coffins, and at the closing of the mausoleum, and they unanimously confirmed the fact that the ring had been left on the finger of the corpse. The mortuary instrument, indeed, left no doubt as to this. All that remained was to ascertain whether it was the same or another the likest thing possible to it. The report of what had happened spread like wild-fire through the city. The king with the court, the archbishop with the clergy, and the nobles of the city, with the most scrupulous formalities, attended at the examination of the seals, and they were found not to have been touched. The wonder and religious joy of the bystanders were raised to the highest pitch when it was seen that there was no ring on the finger of the queen. Thus the miracle was sanctioned, and care was taken to propagate an account of it by means of the press. The people readily believed it, on account of the very high opinion they had had of the deceased queen. Rome exulted in the fortunate result of her fraud. Intelligent persons groaned in secret at the new obstacle interposed in the way of

progress. Woe to the man who should have exposed the trick, and reasoned on the fraud that had been practised; on the facility, in these times, of obtaining seals perfectly resembling any that one would wish to break; on the opportuneness, the convenience, and advantage derived from mystery in the stillness of night, which afforded facilities to the cardinal archbishop and his accomplices in the imposture, to consummate it within the walls of a church impenetrable to every prying eye; on the facility possessed by the archbishop, by means of the directors of consciences, of finding in some petty soul of a female devotee, a fit instrument for acting the part of visionary, particularly with the smiling perspective of attracting universal wonder and veneration in consequence of having been found worthy of having celestial messages addressed to her, and at the same time of a life rendered easy by the enjoyment of a rich pension which she would receive immediately from the royal munificence. Still more luckless would be the man who should have reasoned about the political object of this sacred imposture, namely, leading the people greedily to drink in the idea that in heaven the absolute power of the king and the privileges of the clergy were made matters of special care; and hence that the king himself, too, might have had a share in that sacrilegious falsehood. But in spite of the miracle and of the superstitious veneration entertained towards the deceased queen, the king is held in constant detestation, and the bishops dare not avail themselves of the privilege they have wrested, from dread of the public opinion which had been already formed against the abuses of the ecclesiastical dignities.

I proceed to say somewhat of religious practices in Italy. From the things that have already been said, it comes out that the educated class in that country, particularly wherever they owe any progress they may have made to the philosophy of France and to German rationalism, are inclined, one may say generally, to deism, and sneer not only at the doctrines taught by Rome, but even at the idea of a divine revelation. I have discoursed elsewhere about the origin of such mental blindness. The middle classes, consisting of such as are neither wholly ignorant nor sufficiently educated to form a proper judgment and a religious conviction, either follow the religious impulse given by the legislation of the country, and by the Jansenistic religious progress, if conscientious, or if depraved in point of morals, they adopt the cynic sneer of the unbelieving, in order that they may show themselves off as men of spirit, or to smother remorse for an ill life. This, which is the most numerous class, composed of persons of all descriptions, proprietors, artizans, soldiers, and, further, of part of the lower people inhabiting the towns, has for its limit the earlier period of life; in as much as afterwards, when old age comes on, they go to the contrary excess of superstitious terror; for just as the voice of the passions becomes weak, conscience resumes her proper rights, and these too become all the more burdensome the more impure a man's previous life has been. This class, then, in old age, re-enters among the common people whose faith is sincere. The villager, although superstitious, is generally animated with a sincere religious sentiment: and it is a spectacle at once soothing and melancholy to see him conscientiously, and in the simplicity of his heart, exactly observing practices that have been inculcated on him as duties; to observe how absorbed he is in church with a modest thoughtfulness, during the recital of prayers of which he does not understand the meaning, and remaining for

hours on his knees before the altars of the Virgin or the Saints. What would not be the energy of his faith, were it solely directed to the Author of the faith? All however, the enlightened, the moderately enlightened, the superstitious and the simple, all run in crowds to the churches on festival days, but it is easy to distinguish the former from the latter, not only from the indifference of their behaviour, their babbling, and from their having the air of beaux and gallants, but also from their never being seen at church during novenas and in other religious exercises of pure devotion, not of precept; a very clear proof that nothing but the bayonet of the Swiss and the gendarmes urges them to the outward observance of the religion of the state. To the classes which have been already mentioned there should be added another, which in truth is not very numerous, and consists of the hypocrites by necessity, that is, those who eat the bread of the government without any real merit; while those among them who are indebted for their employments to their talents and to their merits, certainly practise religion without ostentation, either because they think it their duty, or on the principle of submission to command.

And now as to the clergy. The greater part of them, owing to the goadings of their conscience, belong to the class of Deists; and consist of those who in the factitious fervour of the crafty education adopted by Rome for candidates for the priesthood, and for monachism, have been taught to consider the Roman Catholic religion as the sole ark of safety, and to regard Protestantism as an inconsistent system, conducing to religious indifference and to individualism. These finding themselves afterwards in contradiction with their own conscience, finding it beyond their power to obey the law of celibacy, contrary a it is to human nature, in all climates, but specially in the Southern races, and finding it impossible to escape from a state that does violence to their natures, and withal a state of sin, in as much as the marriage of priests is declared null by the church, and is forbidden by law, rush into Deism. What distinguishes the deistic priests from the same class among the laity is, their having no cynic sneer on their lips, and their not rendering themselves scandalous to the believing part of the people; although, on the other hand, they render themselves guilty of hypocrisy by affecting zeal for the external practices of religion. Another part of the clergy belongs itself, too, to the class of the half-informed, that is, to those who are not instructed enough to form for themselves a conviction, who live carelessly in the gratification of their passions, with the idea of afterwards repenting when the passions are calmed. These form afterwards in their old age the most powerful support of catholicism as understood at Rome. There is not wanting a last class, although very restricted in point of numbers, who, reasoning from the very principles of the Roman church, have succeeded in emancipating themselves from the law of celibacy. Thoroughly persuaded as they are, from their knowledge of church history, and of the times of the apostles, that celibacy is enjoined, not by the law of God, but by the command of the church, and knowing, on the other hand, that the church's precepts do not bind a man with much serious inconvenience, according to the adage most universally received in the Roman church and forming an axiom in canon law, have come to the conclusion that the same thing holds with respect to celibacy. Apropos to this, an educated priest belonging to this class has said, in the phraseology of Scripture, that celibacy is that yoke which our fathers could not

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bear, seeing that otherwise we should never have been born. Nor must it be supposed that the men of this class abandon themselves to a life of immorality; they seek out a companion whom they usually indoctrinate with the same principles, with whom they interchange mutual promises of conjugal fidelity; seeing that according to the Roman doctrine the two contracting parties are the true ministers of the sacrament of marriage, and the parish priest no more than the legitimate witness, whose will does not affect the validity of the sacrament. This class, accordingly, is the only moral one among the clergy, if indeed we except a very few in whom either fanaticism, or ambition, or a temperament cooled down by infirmity or old age, renders obedience to the law a matter of less difficulty. What has been said of the clergy in general, further applies to the regular clergy, or monks and friars.

Among the abuses of the Church of Rome, the two that have most influence with the populace, and that make them murmur against the clergy and Rome, are immorality and avarice. People universally lament the betrayal of the honour of families, and one rarely finds an Italian that is not convinced of the general corruption of the clergy; small accordingly is the esteem entertained for the ministers of religion, though there may be the very utmost respect for its observances and its doctrines. Public opinion, in this respect, has been formed by the clergy themselves, who have launched among the people the saying of Jesus Christ, in speaking of the Pharisees, by applying it to themselves, namely, "Do what the priest says, not what he does." Now if we bear in mind that the Gospel is not read by the people, it will appear manifest that the priests themselves must have taught it to the people; and in fact these words are very often heard from their mouths when they happen to be reproved for their libertinage. What shameless confessions are there in that excuse!

Avarice, one of the many features of selfishness, is one of the inseparable consequences of the state of isolation from family ties, and from society in which the Roman Church has placed the priest. The defenders of celibacy usually allege in its support, that matrimony, by making it necessary for people to occupy themselves, and to care about temporal property, and that the desire to accumulate money for children, would distract the ministry and call off their attention from the church. They do not consider that the state of isolation resulting from celibacy, brings along with it the melancholy reflection that in ill health and old age, there will be none engaged by ties of blood, gratitude, or duty, to render them those services of affection which the married usually enjoy, and that being obliged accordingly to have recourse to hirelings, or to nephews gloating upon wealth, they stand much in need of gold; that if it be considered how easily a man flatters himself with the prospect of living to extreme old age, one may infer how insatiable in general is the thirst for amassing wealth among the priests. One of the most evident proofs of the tendency to avarice in the Romish clergy, is to be found in the theory that the Roman Church has recently sanctioned, in canonizing its author St. Alphonso dei Liguori, whose moral theology carries weight as an authority among Roman Catholics. In Book II., sec. 3, 5, 31, and 32, he expresses himself thus: "The obligation of almsgiving in a rich person does not at all arise from the superfluity of wealth in his possession, but solely from the urgent necessity of his neighbour,

Simple individuals are not bound to show any eagerness in finding out the poor for the purpose of giving them relief. All they have to do is to make sure of not being deceived when they suspect the extreme indigence of any one. In the common necessities of the poor there is an obligation to give alms from time to time, when after satisfying the needs of nature and the exigencies of rank any thing remains over; but it is unnecessary to say, that there is no obligation to despoil one's self of every thing superfluous for the benefit of this sort of poor people.

In a case of serious necessity, it is probable that there is an obligation to take from what is superfluous for the relief of a neighbour, when at least there is probable ground for believing that there is nobody else to relieve him," (this being what a priest will never believe, from a spirit of charity, and that he may not think evil of other people). "When our neighbour is found in extreme necessity," Liguori goes on to say, "one is ordinarily bound to relieve him on his property in some way necessary to the dignity of his rank. I have said ordinarily, for if the injury done to your rank shall appear to be more serious than the death of the poor man, there will be no obligation." This revolting doctrine, so opposed to the Gospel, tends only to foster the avarice of the rich, among whom the priests do not rank last; and it is the doctrine forsooth of a saint! The avarice of the priests in Italy is proverbial.

On the other hand it is a subject of murmuring that dispensations for marriages among relations, by blood and marriage, are got at Rome for money, where the rich have rights to the most extensive privileges denied to the poor. In the kingdom of Naples there is the bull called della crociata, which is distributed every year to such as want to be relieved from the severity of the abstinence imposed by the Roman church on fast days from eggs and milk food, at the cost of thirteen grani for the common people, double that for those in easy circumstances, and of five carlini for a whole family. This bull, which is in vigour, indeed, in some other province of Italy, was granted for the benefit of the court of Naples by Clement XII., on king Charles becoming again reconciled to him after the rupture that has already been spoken of. It is presumed that the money exacted for this piece of stamped paper, goes to maintain the fleet that is employed in the suppression of the Barbary corsairs, and to redeem Christian slaves out of their hands. Now, however praiseworthy this object might so far have been at the time of the bull being granted, it has no longer any existence now, seeing that piracy has been abolished; notwithstanding which this religious tax still subsists, and the pope and the king tell a lie every year. The people meanwhile become confirmed in the idea that the church is greedy of money.

Confession, too, of late years, has become a subject of peevish complaint, not only among intelligent Roman catholics, but also among the more public-spirited of the people, from its being manifestly prostituted to political purposes, by spying out opinions while dealing with consciences, and then by subjecting people to persecutions, or at least taking advantage of this espionage for the purpose of sifting the efforts of the liberal party. The revolution was about to break out in Rome during the carnival of 1831, but was prevented by the measures adopted, after notice of it had been received in confession from the wife of a tailor who had sewed the tricolor cockades. We are told, it is true, that the confessor had got the penitent's permission to give the