XXIV.

THE CHURCHES OF NAPLES.

WHEN Sabbath dawned upon us in Naples, the question arose, “What shall we do, and where shall we go?

?" and, after a consultation, we concluded to spend the day in visiting the churches and cemeteries — about as good use as we could make of the Lord's day in such a city. The churches here are finer than those we saw in Rome, with a few exceptions. They are spacious and splendid, filled with costly ornaments, and glittering with the wealth of ages. The effect, as we entered the Church of the Jesuits, was almost overpowering. On an altar near the door was stretched a wax figure, which was laid out in lifelike resemblance of the Savior. The head was covered with thorns; the blood was oozing from the side; and around, above, and beneath flashed out a hundred lights upon the dim shadows of the church. The sacrament was being administered by a priest who was arrayed in most costly robes. Around the altar were about two hundred persons, who were on their knees. A golden plate was handed to one, who held it under his chin while the wafer was laid upon his tongue. When he was sure that the article was safe, the plate was handed to the next person, and so on. Crowds were coming and going all the time, and when one priest became weary, another took his place. - All around the church were confessionals, in which were kneeling penitents

engaged in devotional exercises. I noticed here that no woman came to the sacrament with her head uncovered. If she came in with uncovered head, as was frequently the case, having on no bonnet, she threw her scarf or handkerchief over her head while kneeling at the altar. Forty-six Jesuits are said to be in attendance upon this church all the time. Their cloisters are near at hand, and they live in idleness and crime.

The next church1 we visited no matter for the name was founded by Charles of Anjou, and is one of the finest I saw on the continent, and is under the care of the monks, who have a convent adjoining. The eye could turn in no direction, from the pavement beneath to the ceiling above, without resting on marble, silver, or gold. Ten thousand men could move about with ease beneath the bending arches and along the spacious nave. It contains two pillars, of white marble, brought from Jerusalem by the crusaders; splendid tombs, in which repose the ashes of several of the princes of Arragon. Behind the great altar, separated by a door from the church, is the chapel of the convent. The door is iron trellised work; and we were allowed to gaze through upon the nuns, who were at their devotions. They were all clad in neat, Quakerish dresses, and looked modest and pious. They seemed to be of all ages, from the pale, delicate girl of sixteen, to the thin, wrinkled old lady of eighty years. The services in this church were very captivating. Three monks were singing; and such power in music I never heard before. Awe seemed to pervade the heart, as the streams came echoing back from the resounding aisles,

1 Santa Chiara.

like the harmony of heaven. It is only when we follow these monks into the sacristy, and see them there, that the delusion dies away.

Leaving this splendid edifice, we entered another nameless chapel,1 where we found several works of art which draw much attention from strangers. Here we found the "Dead Christ," a statue of the Savior repos ing in death after his crucifixion. At his feet lie the spikes, the hammer, and the thorns. Over the form is thrown a delicate veil, so thin and gauzelike that we can seem to see the perspiration upon the body. The illusion is complete, and the beholder instinctively reaches forward to remove the covering from the face. This exquisite work is as large as life, and is carved from one piece of marble. The monk who opened the doors told us a monkish story, something as follows: An English noble wished to purchase this piece of statuary, to remove to England, and offered for it its weight in gold and silver, in equal proportions, but was refused.

In another part of this chapel, which was originally dedicated to Diana of the Ephesians, is a statue of Vice, covered with a rope network, which he is endeavoring to tear off, in the doing of which he is assisted by an angel. As I approached the figure, the illusion was so complete, that I seemed to be able to put my hand beneath the network, which appeared to be sep arate from the person. A globe and some books are beside the statue, all of which are carved from one piece of marble. On the pages of the open book was the following appropriate inscription-Nahum i. 13: "For now will I break his yoke from off thee, and

1 Santa Severa.

will burst thy bonds in sunder," with others from the Bible and from the Apocrypha.

Opposite the figure of Vice stands Virtue, as delicately carved, but the design is not so clear and striking as its opposite. Behind the altar is a piece of statuary representing Christ giving sight to the blind. It is of one piece of marble, and is fifteen feet high and eight feet wide, and is an object of study and admiration to the Christian and artist.

Hurrying out of this chapel, we went into a church which had once been used as a pagan temple, and around which yet lingered the memorials of paganism. The altar was covered with vases of silver flowers, six feet high. Paintings and sculpture were displayed to advantage. One fine painting represented the burial of the apostle Paul. He was dressed in ecclesiastical habits, and several shaven-headed monks were putting him into a splendid coffin. If Paul had known that he would have fallen into the hands of monks after his death, I doubt whether he would have said, "To die is gain."

We next came to an edifice which our guide called the Church of the Black Prince; and, before I came out, I thought he was correct. A monk met us at the door, and took us around among the bowing worshipers, to show us the pictures and statues. He made more noise and talked louder than his brother priest who was at the altar. We followed him, clattering over the marble pavement, stepping over the legs of the kneeling penitents, clearing as well as we could the rich dresses of the ladies, and behaving as well as we could under the circumstances. We went into the sacristy, behind the altar, where is an ivory crucifix six feet high and one foot wide, several fine paintings by

the old masters, and boxes and drawers for the robes of the priests. As well prepared as I was for any display of duplicity on the part of the priests, I was surprised at the want of gravity and decorum of these men, when, as their work was done, they came into the sacristy to exchange their gewgaw garments for the robes. of the monks. The whole appearance. of things in this church was bad. Vice seemed to sit throned in priestly robes; the church was a playground; the priests actors and showmen. Pagan idolatry was out shone by Papal pride. I saw an altar boy dipping his bread in a basin of consecrated water, and taking up the sacred fluid, and drinking it from his hands. There was not even the show of decency on the part of the priests, and a company of low actors in a theater dressroom could not have exhibited less signs of piety.

We next went to the cathedral. This structure appears more modern than many others, in consequence of having been repaired. It was formerly a pagan temple, and near the door at which we entered was an urn which once contained the blood shed in sacrifices. This church is the center of Papal influence in Naples. The principal object of interest is St. January's Chapel, which is a small room, separated from the nave by a brass gate, which, we were told, required the labor of two men forty-five years to build it. The interior of the chapel is very richly finished; the dome small, but very superb. The altar is of gold and precious stones, and nothing but a fee will uncover it. In the sacristy are kept forty-six silver busts, as large as life, of St. Antonio, John the Baptist, and others. These busts belong to other churches, and on the various feast days. are carried out in procession. Behind a statue of St. January is an oratory, where a golden bust of the saint