THE CHRISTIAN REFORMER. No. XVI.] APRIL, 1846. [VOL. II. LETTERS FROM AN ENGLISH PRESBYTERIAN MINISTER AT ROME, TO A FRIEND IN ENGLAND. No. XIII. MY DEAR **** Rome, May 8, 1845. AMONG the surest indications of the genius and cultivation of a people, may be remarked the influence and character of the Pulpit. They act and re-act one upon the other, and in some countries much more than in others. Hence is it that in the course of my travels I have been curious to ascertain as correctly as possible the character and influence of the Priesthood, and especially the manner in which they sustained that of the Pulpit. This I regarded as my social guage-or, to change the figure, as presenting me with an epitome of the modes of thought and feeling peculiar to the people amongst whom I was making my temporary sojourn. Such a method of forming a judgment, I am aware, is open to objection. The "ex uno disce omnes" principle may be too indiscriminately applied, and the weaknesses and superstitions of a solitary mind may be adduced as a fair specimen of the intellectual character of the mass. It is necessary here, then, as indeed in all cases, to observe under a great variety of circumstances, and afterwards to strike a fair balance. The Pulpit may be regarded under two phases, material and spiritual. Under the former, I would class all those mechanical artistic preparations which are got up solely as aids in working upon the passions; and these are of so remarkable a kind in this country, as to distinguish the Italian from the English pulpit, not less than their mighty intellectual difference. I remember when I first visited Italy and attended the pompous services of her gorgeous churches, few objects (after the first impression of surprise and admiration had subsided) struck me more than the immense dimensions of the pulpit. No mere coverless box, as with us, I assure you, in which the unfortunate orator is cribbed, cabined and confined; but a species of camerella, in some instances an open stage, on which the preacher walks backwards and forwards, using all such expressions of feeling as the enthusiasm of the moment may prompt, or the careful study of many a private hour may have taught him. In short, in the Italian pulpit there is no danger of throwing the cushions over, of losing one's balance, or of rapping the knuckles in the case of too great an elevation of the arm all is spacious and roomy; and I could easily imagine a commission of Roman priests instructing their architect to "give ample room and verge enough;" and I might finish the quotation, as far as regards many of the Reverendi, but it is not to the point. The surprise of the traveller is more especially awakened at certain seasons of the year and in certain churches. If, for instance, he attend the church of Gesù or of Santa Maria in Ara Cœli at Christmas, or of Sant' Andrea della Valle at Quaresima, then is the "glorious summer" of the preacher, and there upon a large stage he exhibits all the power of the histrionic art, draws aside the veil which conceals the secrets of the invisible world from the eyes of the unsanctified laity, expatiates with all the easy familiarity of a friend upon existences and objects whom no mortal eye hath seen or can see, and on his own sovereign infallibility, or rather that of his Church, imposes laws and regulations on the credulous and resistless masses who are weeping or praying or uttering their "Mama mia's" beneath him. In the church of Santa Maria in Ara Coli, however, the preachers for the time being are young children, guarded by the Roman legions. These recite short dramas in honour of the Bambino and the Madonna, and, converting the sanctuary into a nursery, are indebted for the influence of their oratory to the kind of parental feeling which their youth and simplicity and beauty awaken. For myself, had any such a feeling been awakened within me, it would have been of a much more comprehensive character; for all appeared to me to be babes alike, and to have equal claims upon any superfluous parental feeling that I could bestow upon them. Let me not, however, be too rigid a censor, for we have all our baubles and our rattles; and though arrived at different stages of human progress, as regards what we shall be, we are but mere children. So pietà on the Roman legions, and the infantine clergy, and the infantine audience. Besides the pulpit, there is a peculiarity in the very manoeuvres by which the orator attempts to awaken and to interest public attention. Thus attached to his temporary stage is generally a cross with a figure of the Saviour extended upon it: this he sometimes apostrophizes as if the Incarnate God were really hanging upon it; sometimes he passionately kisses it; sometimes he flourishes it in the act of exhortation and denunciation; and with every wave of the cross, not uncommonly one hears an united burst of anguish or adoration from the masses who are assembled beneath him. Nor is the cross the only object of persuasion introduced in the pulpit. I have seen a skull and an entire skeleton, a lighted torch and an iron chain, brought to the preacher one after another, and used according to the settled design of his discourse; and used, as I shall have occasion to tell you in another letter, with terrific effect. Sometimes, too, may be seen an image of the Madonna or a Saint, dressed out in a gay or sombre habit, according to the season, placed on a table immediately beneath the pulpit, and addressed by the preacher and kissed by the people with the same impassioned feeling that might have been entertained towards a living moving being. These are, then, some of the instruments of his art with which the mighty magician who sits up aloft proceeds to sport with the human mind, as if it were a mere plaything in his hands; and terrible is indeed the power which he exercises. We speak of the power which he exerts who discloses some hitherto undiscovered path in the field of nature, or who attains to the highest eminence in some particular branch of learning; yet I have at times thought it trivial as compared with the influence which the finished orator exercises over the human soul, and with which he fixes the character of a district or a nation or an age. His is the highest dominion which can be exercised-that of mind over mind in its holiest and loftiest aspirations. One cannot calculate its magnitude, often not trace its direction or extent; and a single word which upon your ear, perhaps, has dropped unnoticed, has fallen upon the ear of many another, whose every future act will hereafter be modified by it. Often have such thoughts occurred to me in a Roman church, where I have witnessed an entire audience respond to the eloquence of the preacher, as the trees of a forest to every breath of wind that passes over them. I have now such a scene distinctly in my recollection, which I witnessed in the church of Gesù-every corner of that stupendous church crowded-the silence of death prevailing amongst them-their very breath suspended, and every eye directed upon one man, the acknowledged master for the time of near two thousand human souls. At first, intense curiosity enchains them. With a few words, the orator rivets their attention. A well-told witty anecdote diffuses a smile over every face and awakens a general titter; and then a touching allusion, expressive of some tender sentiment, as quickly melts them into tears. Thus, like a finished artist, as if he delighted in sporting with human sensibilities, he passes from wit to sentiment, at every fresh period awakening smiles or tears, till by some terrible denunciation of sin, and particular application of it to his audience, he brings them all upon their knees, and compels them to invoke the aid of the Madonna in terms of the most moving anguish. Such scenes I have witnessed, not once nor twice, but often, in Rome and elsewhere, but never without feeling the immense responsibilities which the pulpit orator incurs-of the vast power he exercises for good or for evil-and of the immense social danger of interesting such a man or such a body of men in the defence and maintenance of any given set of opinions. We may view, however, the scene which I have just described under two aspects. Entering a church and listening to the orator, every thing seems to be the effect of nature only, whereas the whole is often the most finished piece of acting, got up with the most deliberate and careful study, as any one may convince himself who has the opportunity of being behind the scenes. Thus the torch is brought already lighted at a preconcerted sign; so with the chain or cord, and so with the statue; the skull or the skeleton have been concealed, too, beforehand beneath the pulpit. It is as if it had been previously written on the stage-copy of a drama-Torch here, or, Skull there; and even the preacher who in the sacristia was the gayest of the priestly throng, entering the pulpit, appears by some magic power to be a changed being: his voice trembles with emotion; he weeps laughs and prays, and flagellates himself; and, as if he had two spiritual existences, appears capable of subduing not others only, but even himself. The pulpit and its accompaniments, then, materially considered, may be regarded as furnishing materials for the first volume of a work on the genius and mental cultivation of Italy, and they tell us in brief of a people distinguished rather by quickness of feeling than activity of thought, by mental childishness rather than by manly maturity of the reasoning powers. and And now let me pass to the second portion of my remarks-(a much more delicate and difficult subject), on the intellectual and moral character of the discourses of the Italian preacher, of which I cannot say I have formed a very elevated opinion. Indeed, as I have already observed, the preacher and the people will always act and re-act one upon the other. Such is the case, eminently so, in Italy, where amidst a great variety of pulpit orators under almost every variety of circumstances, though I have met with much ingenuity, often taste and sensibility, I have scarcely in any instance met with that profundity of thought or closeness of reasoning which not unfrequently distinguish the English preacher. One reason of this obviously is, that the Italians are not a thinking people, and such a style would be lost upon them. Another reason is, that the Roman Catholic Church, insisting on an implicit faith in its dogmata, gives no scope to thought and discourages all inquiry. Hence is it that the oratory of the Italian pulpit is highly impassioned and imaginative. It loves to paint a pure world of romance, in which the Godhead and the Madonna and San Giuseppe are brought before us in all the easy familiarity with which a human family might be presented; their interpositions in behalf of their Catholic worshipers, at times ludicrously enough, related as if they were events of the most common occurrence; the whole transactions of the Divine household, if I may so express myself without impiety, minutely narrated; and the Godhead, instead of being represented as that pure spiritual unity we are taught to adore in the holy Scriptures-Eternal, Immortal, Invisible -is parcelled out amongst a number of imaginary beings, who inhabit a perfect world of romance. There are also other existences, such as bad guardians and archangels, as well as saints, who serve to give life to the pictures of the preacher, and with whom he seems to be on terms of the most perfect acquaintance. How many are the anecdotes I have heard of what such a Saint said or did-of a conversation between him and the Madonna or Gesù-of the interposition of Santa Maria, or Santa Teresa, or San Gennaro, in behalf of a suffering worshiper; and all most devoutly received on the authority of the descendant of the apostles as devoutly, indeed, as the gospel itself! These are some of the staple commodities which the Roman preacher offers to his audience. Nor must I forget to allude to the scenery which he employs. Hell and Purgatory in all their horrors, and Paradise with all its glories, are circumstantially described, as if they were within a day's journey, or as if the orator were merely adding an appendix to the veracious narratives of a Virgil or a Dante: nay, in order to give greater life to his descriptions, I have seen the action of hell-fire represented in the pulpit by the actual application of a torch to the wrist,-the picture being thus made much more graphic than any which a Rubens or a Michael Angelo have ever painted, and giving rise to the suspicion almost that the celebrated painting of Michael Angelo in the Sistine Chapel, or of Rubens at Munich, may have furnished more materials than the Gospels. After such statements as these, I am sure you will consider me justified in describing Italy as one vast nursery for children, and the preachers as nursing fathers, who, like nurses of another sex, are constantly feeding the imagination with more monstrous fables than fairy land has ever suggested, and basing their spiritual dominion on the credulity and ignorance of their spiritual children. Shall I now proceed to give you some quotations from certain discourses I have heard, in illustration or confirmation of my remarks? Taken alone, I am sure you would regard them as a mass of "farragine;" but they may be interesting, and are perhaps necessary in justification of the rather free observations which have preceded. The first citations I give you shall be from a series of sermons I heard during the "Festa dei Morti," which occurs in the month of November, and lasts nine days. Then is it that those who have incurred obligations to the dead in the way of masses or vows, are called on to fulfil them; and many is the saintly priest who thrives well at this season, and many is the soul in purgatory (at least, so says the priest), who is refreshed by the offerings and duties of the obedient Catholic; but whether thrives best the priest or the soul, I must leave to his Holiness to decide. The Church that I frequented had the additional ornament of a table beneath the pulpit, on which were placed two human skulls, and between them was placed a figure of Jesus Christ, which every one as he entered devoutly kissed. The preacher was an aged man of 80, an excellent, pure-minded man, incapable of saying a word for effect, or a word that he did not himself most religiously believe, so that his sentiments may be taken as a "mostra" of the modes of thinking peculiar to a certain class. His first discourse was a description of Purgatory—a dark prison where souls were confined, and where a hundred fires were prepared. One of the pains of purgatory consisted in being deprived of the beauty of God's face. The summing up of the discourse was an urgent appeal to the audience in behalf of the souls in purgatory. "All could do something for their relief, however small that relief might be ;" and upon this remark a little leather sack, attached to the end of a pole, was carried round, and well shaken at every new contribution. The next evening's discourse described the fire of purgatory; it was light by the breath of God; and then followed an anecdote. "Santa Teresa was building a monastery for the benefit of the soul of a deceased cavalier; but the works proceeding rather slowly, Jesus Christ came to her and said, 'Fate presto, fate presto, Teresa, for that cavalier is suffering much.' So say I to you-fate presto, fate presto: for now are suffering in purgatory the souls of your parents, friends, acquaintance. Be liberal, and God will be so with you; be ristretto, and so God will be to you." The same subject was continued on another occasion, when the preacher asserted that even the slightest faults would be punished, and in the most eminent persons, for that the Saints themselves had not escaped. Thus the sister of St. Peter had once appeared to him, saying she had been sent to purgatory for washing her head on a Friday; and another Saint, for being curious to hear a profane song, had been sent to purgatory. Punishments would be proportioned and assimilated to the degree and character of crime. The hands, for instance, would be punished when they were the offenders-the eyes, the feet, the tongue, and so on. The conclusion, however, though brief, contained the pith of the matter-" Souls might be redeemed." Towards the end of the series, the great necessity of masses to liberate the souls of the dead, and the neglect of Christians in using these means, were more and more insisted on. It was the habit of man to forget his fellow-creatures in their sufferings. Joseph had been put in the bottom of a well, and all his former benefits to his brethren had been forgotten. Job lost every thing, and was then abandoned. So with the souls in purgatory-they were forgotten-no masses were offered for them. A man on his death-bed invoked his children to provide masses for the liberation of his soul; in the agony of affection, the promise was fervently given; but a few days passed, and he was forgotten in his |