NAPLES AND THE NEAPOLITANS.

On quitting Rome I no longer thought of its material objects, its churches, and its palaces; but of its unworthy government, and its degraded race of priests and friars. As yet I had never visited Naples; I fancied to myself that in most respects it was less objectionable than Rome. I passed over the Pontine Marshes, that famous Maremma, on which Pope Pius VI. expended so large a sum, in order to drain it, and render it free from the malaria that infested it, but which still continues the same. I arrived at Capua, which town I was soon to revisit, to preach the Lent sermons; a vast number of priests were here mixed up with a few townspeople and soldiers. At length I reached the city of Naples, where, as every one knows, the eye wandering among the busy throngs that are perpetually hurrying through the streets, discovers, on every side, innumerable hats of priests and cowls of monks; and, what at first sight excites so much surprise, friars of every colour, order, and denomination; who pursue each other through the crowd, as regardless of the tumult as if they were in the seclusion of their own cloisters. "Well!" thought I to myself, "Rome is not the only place that is overstocked with these gentry; Naples has its full share of them as well."

Naples is an exceedingly fine city, abundantly enriched by nature, and endowed with every gift calculated to ameliorate the condition of man, and to improve society. In casting our eyes over this delightful country, where variety and harmony, beyond the reach of art, prevail on every side; where nature, often in other countries sparing of her bounty, here lavishes her utmost to produce the beautiful, the lovely, and the enchanting, we are called upon to acknowledge that it is a land especially gifted by Providence. As I then saw and enjoyed it, I blamed myself for not having visited it sooner, and I made a resolution to remain in it, until some weighty reason should determine me to the contrary.

As it wanted but a few days to Lent, I chose to remain incognito during that time, busying myself in studying the genius of the people, and the manners and habits of the various classes. The tumult of the city, at all hours, and in all parts, was equally novel and strange to me; as was likewise the great contrast I observed between those who were in authority, and those whose duty it was to obey: the first, full of importance, and proud of their privileges, assumed not merely an air of superiority, but of disdain and contempt for the lower classes; who, in their turn, aware of their necessities, and humiliated by their lot, betrayed in their countenances a sense of their utter degradation, and seemed themselves to authorize the slavery that debased them.

This moral deformity presented a strange contrast to the physical beauty that reigned on every side: the one inspiring satisfaction and delight, the other abhorrence and disgust. Naples itself is a paradise; but the Neapolitans, to what are they to be likened? Whatever they are, it is the government which has made them so. The people—and by the people I do not merely understand the lower orders, but even those who inhabit the court—have not a single fault that is not to be attributed to their rulers: the better they are by nature, the worse they become by their education. This evil is more apparent in the capital than in the provinces; an evident proof that the government and the court occasion the evil, and the consequent demoralization; in fact, it is with the king himself, who sets the example, that the whole mischief originates.

Suppose a lazzarone steals a handkerchief out of your pocket; might he not plead in excuse that others commit far greater robberies with impunity? Does not theft pervade every rank of society, even to royalty itself? What barefaced depredations are not made on the public purse, under the title of salaries and stipends, for duties which do not exist! Whatever vices prevail in the lower classes, are invariably to be found in a greater degree in the higher, and more especially in the court circle. Lying, which is so common a vice among the lower orders, is elevated to a science in the middle class, while among the nobility it is regarded as a grace and a sort of gallantry, and with the king and his ministers it is esteemed as an essential principle in the art of governing.

The wife who lies to her husband, and the children who do the same to their parents, encourage by their example the servants, who consequently lie to their masters; and all these persons are encouraged to do so by the priest, who, in his confessional, pardons, without any sort of hesitation, every species of falsehood of which they accuse themselves. Lying and thieving, which in all civilized countries are held in detestation, are in this unhappy land almost regarded as virtues. Blame is only attached to the practice when it is unskilfully performed, so as to bring disgrace upon the order of liars and thieves, en masse.

I reflected much on the lamentable condition of a people destined by nature to be virtuous rather than vicious; and I was moved at the consideration of the real cause of their misery. The immorality of the people is entirely owing to its government; that is to say, to its unjust laws and its corrupt magistrates. The police protects every description of iniquity, and leagues itself with malefactors. Money, the source of all evil, changes the face of everything. Both witness and judge are notoriously sold to the highest bidder; it is money, therefore, and not right, which decides a cause. For money, the police is either alert or otherwise; it either invents crimes, or conceals them. For money, the king grants pardons, and out of the sums so applied a large portion finds its way into the pockets of the confessor, and the servants about court. What wonder can there be then that the example of the ministers of religion, whose office it is to govern and to instruct, should be so generally followed? Money is, in reality, the god that is worshipped in Italy. Naples is the kingdom of the Church; Rome is the state. It is in Naples that the papistry of Rome is in the fullest vigour, and the poor Neapolitans furnish abundant proof of the iniquity of the system: they are the rowers of the pope's grand bark, and the king is at their head. The priests rule in every direction; they insinuate themselves in a thousand ways into every body's concerns, and, directly or indirectly, possess an influence over all. Through confession they obtain dominion over the very minds of men, and discover their most secret thoughts and intentions. Whoever would ascertain what priestcraft really is, and the mischief it occasions in Italy, let him go to Naples.

It was during Lent, in the year 1835, that I went to Capua, and was the guest of Cardinal Serra Cassano. He was an exceedingly polite man, but to myself his attention was more than ordinary. His attendants remarked to me that they had never known him so much at home with any one before, and that he addressed me as his dearest friend.

Every day I preached, both morning and evening; and I had also other duties assigned to me by the Cardinal: to draw up rules for monastic bodies, to lay down a plan of study for the seminary, to suggest measures of reform with respect to the clergy, &c. were what I had to attend to; besides which, he was in the habit of consulting me on other matters. Our conversation was unrestrained: and I frequently had the satisfaction of declaring the truth to one whose ears had hitherto been accustomed only to the voice of adulation, as he was exceedingly wealthy, and held a sort of court, in which his will was absolute. Did it happen that any one contradicted or offended him, even in a single instance, he was sure to visit the culprit with his indignation; and if he were in his service, he ran the risk of being immediately discharged. All his dependents, therefore, trembled before him, and watched with anxiety the expression of his eye. However much he might be in the wrong, his servile followers were obliged to say: "Your Eminence is in the right." He was like one of the feudal barons of the middle ages, with respect to the state and tyranny of his conduct. I was greatly amused at his extravagances; and as I did not fear him, I sacrificed nothing of my own independence in my demeanour towards him. No argument of any consequence took place between us, although I often endeavoured to lead the conversation to serious topics: in fact, he had not much head for subjects of high importance. All that I could do was, to present a few words of truth to him, in the simplest form, since he was incompetent to enter into any grave discussion. He disliked to talk of religion, but delighted to expatiate on the Church; on the dignity of bishops and cardinals; of the privileges of the clergy, of their immunities, &c. He was frequently at issue, nevertheless, with his clergy, and had many important lawsuits with the heads of the cathedral and the collegiate church. Consequently, he was generally disliked: it may, indeed, be averred that he was beloved by no one at Naples, not even by his own relations.

I relate these circumstances, which are well known to all his acquaintance, in order that the true character of these sons of the Church of Rome, in her last days, may be known. The Cardinal, who was a man of very slender ability, had already occupied the post of Apostolic Nuncio, at the Court of Bavaria, and had performed good service in that capacity for the Holy See; having obtained, as he himself told me, from that country large sums of money, by the sale of indulgences and papal dispensations. He had, moreover, executed many important commissions on the part of the Propaganda and the Inquisition; and even, on one occasion, had successfully resisted the power of the king, in his attempt to interfere in some ecclesiastical matters. "Your Majesty must recollect," said he, "that you are the subject of the Church." These few words, the Cardinal observed, were sufficient to stop the proceedings of his majesty.

In these matters he was adroit enough. His altercations with the King of Naples were perfectly amusing, and no one was more frank than he was in expressing his sentiments. But the worst of it was, that all his courageous efforts were directed either to matters of no importance whatever, or to support things decidedly wrong and bad. Never, in a single instance, that ever came to my knowledge at least, was there any subject discussed between the king and him, of a noble or useful nature; though he was continually perplexing his brains with government affairs, and censuring the ministers, or giving them his advice.

He took great delight in all private gossip, and Neapolitan jokes, which are often none of the most decent; and encouraged all dealers in satire, provided it was directed against classes he deemed fitting subjects for it; more especially against the monks, for whom he professed very little regard. With the pope or the cardinals, however, it was different: no one was permitted to censure them in his presence. Nevertheless, I often took the liberty of doing so myself, on which occasions I never failed to receive a gentle reproof.

"Ah! you are no friend to cardinals," said he to me one day.

"On the contrary," I replied, "I am so much their friend, that nothing would give me more pleasure than to introduce a real reform among them, and give them an opportunity of becoming estimable characters. The good Bishop Bartholomew de Martiribus, the primate of Hungary, was of the same opinion when he exclaimed before the Council of Trent: Illustrissimi et Reverendissimi Cardinales indigent illustrissima et reverendissima reformatione.[75] Three ages have elapsed since this exclamation was made, but nothing as yet has resulted from it. Who, indeed, can ever reform them, so long as they alone possess the privilege of doing so?"

"The pope, who is their superior, may reform them."

"And the pope himself, who is to reform him?"

"The Almighty."

"May it be so."

On my leaving Rome, Olivieri, the Father-General of the Dominicans, and head commissioner of the Inquisition, had deputed me to go to Mugnano, in the diocese of Nola, where the celebrated new saint, Philomena, the pretended worker of so many recent miracles, is held in great veneration. The Inquisition was not quite satisfied with the manner in which the priest Don Francesco di Lucia had exhibited these miracles to the public. This priest, it seems, was in possession of certain reliques, fragments of bones, which he had brought away from Rome in the year 1802, and subsequently enclosed within a little image of papier machÉ, originally a figure of Christ, such as are sold at Naples, to which he added a female mask and suitable garments, disposing the image in a sleeping attitude. Thus metamorphosed into a female, the worthy priest soon found a name for his saint, although no one could tell whether the bones had belonged to a male or a female.[76] Be that as it may, he was the first to celebrate their fame, and set up a sanctuary, in which such astonishing prodigies were soon said to be performed, that ignorant peasants came from all the neighbouring parts, to worship the new idol, bringing their offerings with them, and inducing other devout idolaters to do the same.

I was therefore authorized by the commissioner to reprove the priest, on account of the numerous tales he had spread abroad, respecting the life, death, and miracles of his wonderful saint. I was directed to inform him that not one of his boasted prodigies could be believed, since there was no evidence whatever of their having actually occurred; and that the Roman Inquisition entirely disapproved of his conduct, and was on the point of condemning all the books he had published on the subject.

I undertook this office with considerable satisfaction, as I had for a long time been disgusted with all the fabulous stories of saints and miracles that inundated Italy and Europe, and were even introduced into the sermons of the missionaries of the Propaganda. Accordingly, during the Holy week, when I had no duty to perform, I took upon me to go to Mugnano, accompanied by Monsignor Angustoni, a preacher in the collegiate church of Santa Maria. Our arrival was hailed with great pleasure by Don Francesco, who, at the sight of us, flattered himself that two preachers from Capua had actually become followers of his saint. He accordingly began in his usual style to vaunt her perfections, and the wonders she had performed.

"See," said he to me, pointing to the image, "this saint is different from all other saints in existence. She knows beforehand the favours her devotees come to ask of her, and she shows in a decided manner whether she intends to grant their suit or not. A few days ago a bishop, I shall not tell his name, came to pay his respects to her; I saw at once that she was displeased at his visit, as she visibly changed countenance, and assumed a pale and sad aspect: whereas, on the very same day, when the Marchioness of Riso, from Naples, came here, her aspect was altogether different. I wish you could have seen how handsome she looked! The marchioness told me she had come to ask a favour, but that she found it was granted, even before she had arrived at Mugnano."

"I hope our visit will be equally acceptable to your saint," said I; "and that she will look favourably upon us, when you make us acquainted with her. I do not know whether my friend here has any boon to ask of her. For my own part, I require nothing at all from her saintship."

Before withdrawing the curtain that concealed his oracle from the common gaze, the priest showed us a piece of marble upon the altar, which, he said, having been accidentally broken in two pieces, the saint had miraculously joined, and made it as perfect as before. I however begged leave to point out to him that there were pretty evident marks of its having been cemented in the ordinary way, by mastic. He also showed me a little shrine, from which, as he assured me, the reliques of the saint, after having been carefully placed there by his own hands, suddenly disappeared; because the owner of it was not sufficiently devout. As I could allege nothing to the contrary, I made no remark, but merely smiled at his absurdity. Don Francesco now rang the great bell of the church, lighted the candles upon the altar, and assembled the people. Among them I particularly noticed twenty or thirty young girls, who were maintained at the expense of the priest, out of the money given to Saint Philomena; their office was to pray to the saint, in behalf of those persons who presented gifts to her.

These girls, with loud shrill voices, frequently raised to their extremest pitch, chanted the customary prayers, in the same style as the old women at Naples, in the chapel of St. Januarius, invoke the saint to perform his annual miracle of liquefying his own blood. Other girls tinkled the various bells belonging to the church, while Don Francesco, devoutly kneeling, exposed the sacred reliques. We, for our part, were lost in admiration, at beholding such solemn ceremonies, on so ridiculous an occasion as the appearance of a painted doll, dressed in female attire, with a few bones withinside, and called Saint Philomena.

"Oh! how beautiful she is," exclaimed Don Francesco, turning towards us. "Observe the charming colour of her cheeks; she is like a rose of Paradise!"

"Which is a good sign, I suppose, is it not?" I replied. "She must be greatly pleased with our visit."

"Undoubtedly she is," he returned, "and quite disposed to grant whatever you may ask of her."

"Is she then omnipotent?"

"Why, as to that, she is the daughter of the Omnipotent God, and dispenses all his favours; she keeps the treasury of the Divine grace, and to her friends she denies nothing; what she receives in heaven she freely bestows upon earth; she takes from the hand of God, and gives to us."

"Don Francesco," said I to him, "all this appears to me an idle dream; it agrees with no doctrine in theology. Christianity is not based on such superstitions, but on real facts. Who has told you that your saint is what you report her to be? Besides, what you affirm concerning her, is also affirmed of hundreds, nay, thousands of other saints, who are said to be equally powerful; all have access to the Divine treasury, all deal in miracles, prodigies, and conjurations alike. Besides, with so many saints to intercede for us, what becomes of the office of Jesus Christ, of whom it is said by John, that he intercedes for us, that he is our only advocate with the Father? Moreover, He himself says, 'Come unto me, all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'[77] 'No man cometh unto the Father but by me.'[78] Now, it is clear that you, Don Francesco, have recourse to others than the Lord Jesus Christ, to gain admission to the Father. Take care you do not altogether mistake the way, and teach what is not true. For it is written, 'If the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch.'"[79]

Don Francesco appeared greatly disconcerted by so public a rebuke as this: it was what he so little expected. He concealed his embarrassment, however, as well as he could, and continued, but with less assurance, his account of Saint Philomena.

"See here," said he, "one cannot deny that her hair grows, or that she has moved her feet; they are more stretched out and curved than they were. She even changed her position a little time ago."

"She, do you say? tell me, do you mean the saint herself, or the pasteboard image? for I do not suppose you have operated the change, or transubstantiation, of the saint into papier machÉ, and vice versÂ! What does it signify if the paper doll has become a little twisted by the changes in the temperature of the atmosphere? Are not the ropes of the church bells affected in the same way? do not they become longer when the weather is damp, and shorter when it is dry? These miracles of yours all arise from natural causes. Even suppose it otherwise, what benefit would it be to the Church if the image really moved itself about?[80] Divine miracles always have an important object, never being wrought but for purposes of exceeding utility. Do you ever read in the Bible about miracles, performed as it were in sport, or to satisfy vain curiosity, such as these of your saint? Religion has no need of such, and they do her no honour. I wish to heaven that we had never talked of the miracles of St. Anthony, of St. Vincent, and others, which are only derogatory to the excellence and the truth of those operated by the Saviour and his apostles. In the early days of Christianity there was a necessity for miracles, in order, as one of the Fathers expresses it, to water the new plants of the religion of Christ. Those plants are now strong and healthy, and have no need to be watered as they formerly were."

At these words I saw the priest evince great signs of dissatisfaction. He eyed me askance, his lip quivered with a sort of convulsive movement. It appeared that he had a reply ready for me, which he had probably been concocting all the time I had been lecturing him. I paused therefore to give him an opportunity of speaking.

"Then you have no faith in the miracles of St. Philomena?"

"What miracles do you mean? Those you have spoken of are no miracles at all. The operations of nature, even when most extraordinary, are not miracles. Miracles are above the power of nature, and contrary to her laws. All that you have brought forward is child's play, mere nonsense. As to the other marvels you tell me of—the instantaneous cures that have been effected, gifts and visions from heaven, angels appearing, and devils being put to flight—I hold them all to be pure inventions. You seem angry with me for discrediting your account; I hope you will be less so with the cardinals of the Inquisition, who, I can assure you, highly disapprove, as well as myself, of your wonderful relations, and hold them all as fables: moreover, I have to inform you, which I do in the presence of Monsignor Angustoni, brother of the Pope's Sacristan, that the rebuke I have given you is at the special direction of the Commissioner-General of the Holy Office."

At these words the priest hung down his head, as one who already hears the judge pronouncing his sentence. I saw that he was effectually humbled, and therefore did not carry my reproof any further.

"My dear Don Francesco," I said, "the religion of Jesus Christ, which we both profess, is truth in its most luminous aspect; but it is as a mirror, which becomes sullied by human breath. If it be entirely from God, man can add nothing to it. It is our duty to receive it such as it is, without seeking to embellish it with our own inventions, however holy or spiritual they may appear to be. Grievous superstitions have in this manner been introduced into Christianity, If our venerable fathers of the early ages could return to this world, they would find so many abuses and falsehoods among us, that they would no longer recognise the holy spouse of Christ. Give up, therefore, these idle stories about Saint Philomena, which cause great injury to the simple-minded, in leading them to worship, instead of the Lord Jesus Christ, a created being, nay, even dead bones and a senseless image. May God pardon you the offence you have already committed!"

And what, it may be asked, was really the effect of my lecture on the mind of Don Francesco? I verily believe it had none whatsoever; since, as I afterwards understood, he continued his practices exactly in the same style, and I never heard that the Inquisition took any steps towards interfering with them. Perhaps he may have learned to accommodate his lies on the subject, according to the prescribed rules of the Holy Congregation of Rites, and consequently is no longer at variance with Rome. The miracles attributed to this saint have been trumpeted forth to all the world, and her worship, or rather idolatry, extends everywhere. The King of Naples, his whole family, and the members of his court, are among her most zealous supporters, and Don Alfonzo d'Avalos, the Court Grand-master of the ceremonies, has the honour of being her treasurer!

"What is your opinion with respect to this Saint Philomena?" inquired the Cardinal one day, as we were discoursing together.

"I think it is a gross piece of idolatry to worship her," I replied. "I reproved Don Francesco for his fanaticism pretty severely. But how is it possible to convince a priest? One might as well argue with a block of stone. To what a pass has religion come in this country of ours! to the worship of images and reliques; to the adoration of the Madonna and the saints! God, or Jesus Christ, serve only as names to cover or sanction this species of idolatry, under the title of the Christian religion. No, your Eminence, this is not Christianity, it has been corrupted by the priests altogether. And what are our bishops about? They shut their eyes to what is going on, regardless of their responsibility in these matters. Every shepherd is bound to take care of his flock; he who neglects this duty is a hireling, and unworthy of his charge. Now what is the Bishop of Nola about, while these impostures are being carried on in his diocese?"

"Why, they say they pull together in that respect; but I do not believe it," replied the Cardinal.

It is indeed notorious how the worship of saints increases, as well as the fame of their miracles. The priests and the bishops favour the practice alike. The Cardinal, although he appeared to disapprove of this affair of Saint Philomena, was only instigated by his desire to pay greater homage to other saints, whose repute he was more interested in advocating. But what can be advanced in favour of these proceedings, when it is seen that the greatest saint in the Romish Church is that of whom the greatest lies have been invented? They only are true saints, who, without any of these pretensions, died, according to the old Latin phrase, in osculo domini; they alone are those whom God acknowledges as such, and whom we may hope to meet in heaven.

During my stay at Capua, before the termination of Lent, a certain Monsignor Lasteria, Bishop of Zante and Cephalonia, came on a visit to Cardinal Serra. He was a native of Capua, and had formerly been the Cardinal's secretary. The object of his visit was, apparently, to solicit the good offices of the Cardinal with the Propaganda, to obtain leave for him to resign the bishopric he held; possibly with a view of obtaining a translation to some see in the dominions of the King of Naples. The Cardinal had broached the matter to the Propaganda some time before, but the grand difficulty appeared to be the providing another bishop for Zante and Cephalonia. I was applied to on the occasion, and asked if I knew of any fit person whom I could recommend to this bishopric, which was a difficult post to fill, as the Romish Church was there placed between the Anglican and the Greek Church. The Cardinal repeatedly urged me to name some one of my acquaintance, to present to the Propaganda, instead of Monsignor Lasteria.

I was wearied by these frequent applications, and one day briefly told his Eminence that I had neither a Titus, nor a Timothy to propose; hoping that after such an observation I should be no more troubled on the subject. But not many days after he came to seek me with a very satisfied and condescending air.

"I hope," said he, "that you will acknowledge the will of God in the proposition I am about to make you. The holy Father, on the recommendation of the secretary of the Propaganda, has signified his approval of your succeeding Monsignor Lasteria yourself, in the bishopric of these two Ionian Islands; and besides which he invests you with the office of Vicar Apostolic of Corfu. He observed, however, after having spoken very favourably of you, that he could not compel you to accept this office in a foreign country, but at any rate, if it did not please you, it need only be for a short time, as he should, himself, be better satisfied to have you in Rome."

"Many thanks to your Eminence, as well as to the Pope, and to the secretary of the Propaganda. This office, which in the time of the apostles was very desirable, according to the words of St. Paul to Timothy,[81] is now no longer so; at least, not in my eyes. Indeed, such as the episcopacy is in our day, I would counsel no man to accept it: far less would I accept it myself. My objection does not apply alone to the see of the Ionian Islands, but to every bishopric whatsoever, belonging to the Church of Rome. The laws and general usages connected with them are such that I could never conform myself to them, either as regards practice or precept. I wish it therefore to be understood that I do not refuse a poor bishopric, in the hope of obtaining a rich one; it is the dignity itself, the prelacy that I object to: what I consider therefore as a dangerous acquisition, I am by no means disposed to possess."

"Come, take three days to consider of it. Your refusal is too hasty, you ought to reflect before you decide. Offer up your prayers, these three days, to the Lord and the most holy Madonna, that they may enlighten you."

"Well, I will wait three days, and offer up my prayers to the Lord, and at the end of that time I will communicate the result to your eminence."

A few hours after the expiration of the allotted period, the Cardinal came to me again, to know my decision.

"Everything," I replied, "strengthens me in the resolution I have already expressed to your Eminence, of declining to accept the bishopric. I look at what is true in the office, and at what is false. The duty of a bishop is essentially that of a shepherd; as the one leads his flock to pasture, so the other conducts his people into the way of truth. But the shepherd has become the doctor. He has, and very inappropriately, assumed a command, an authority, a jurisdiction, a power which usurps dominion: yet He who said to Peter, 'Feed my sheep, feed my lambs,' also said to him, and to all the apostles, 'Ye know that the princes of the Gentiles exercise dominion over them, and they that are great exercise authority upon them. But it shall not be so among you.'[82] Now the office of a bishop at the present day is totally opposite to what it ought to be. By a bishop, we understand an ecclesiastic who, in consequence of possessing a dominion, has authority and a right to command; which right it is pretended he receives from Christ, through the apostles. But it is evident that the apostles themselves never had such right. And what are our present bishops? Shepherds? Would to God they led their flocks to the pastures of truth, to the holy Word! If any one in the present day were to fulfil his duty as bishop, according to the original signification of the office, he would soon be at issue with Rome, from whence all the scandal proceeds, and which stigmatizes as innovations any return to the customs and observances of the early times of Christianity."

"I have no more to say then. If you refuse, I will write and tell them they must choose another. Have you any one to propose?"

"There is at Rome, among the Dominicans, a missionary, one Father Hynes, an Irishman, who has lately come over from the United States, in the hope of obtaining promotion. He would be very fit for the Ionian Islands."

The next day the Cardinal came again with a letter in his hand. "I am going to send," said he, "your answer to Rome. I have stated that, for certain private reasons, you cannot accept the offer that has been made you. Am I right? Shall I send the letter? or do you think better of it?"

"I request your Eminence will forward the letter at once. And since you have already shown me so much kindness, I am encouraged to open my mind still further to you. I wish to send these two other letters to Rome; one to Cardinal Polidori, Prefect of the Congregation of Discipline, and the other to Monsignor Acton, the secretary, to request from the pope my secularization. I wish to quit the Order to which I belong: it brings me too much before the public. I have no ambitious desires, and would rather lead a quiet life, as a simple priest, without any office whatsoever in the Church. I feel myself called by God to preach according to his Word; and in the performance of that duty I would willingly spend the remainder of my existence. I should also resume the delivery of my scientific lectures. I have another strong reason for relinquishing this Order, in which I can never hope to enjoy any tranquillity, since with my own eyes I have witnessed the irregularities that are practised in the different monasteries I have visited. It has, moreover, the additional dishonour of having provoked the pope to dismiss the Father General Olivieri.[83] At Rome, in that most abominable monastery of the Minerva, all who have any good about them are sure to be persecuted, as was the case with my friend Brocchetti. I can no longer live among such people. I shall request my passport, and leave them."

"And where will you go?"

"I cannot tell: probably I shall remain some time in Naples, if they will leave me alone. I foresee a secret persecution hatching up against me. I shall live entirely to myself, if I am allowed to do so, and shall attend solely to study and preaching."

The Cardinal did all in his power to dissuade me. He averred I was tempted by the devil, that I was relinquishing a very desirable position, that I should give great offence at Rome, and only bring ruin on myself. He added, that he should immediately set about writing letters in opposition to mine, to throw all possible impediments in my way; and said many other things, just as they came into his head. I let him talk on, and pursued my own measures.

In this state of affairs I left Capua, with abundance of courteous expressions on the part of his Eminence, which it is needless to repeat. In a letter that he wrote to Cardinal Caracciolo, Archbishop of Naples, he reiterated all the personal compliments he had paid to me; of which letter the archbishop kindly sent me a copy; and I still preserve it among other papers.[84] Cardinal Serra, moreover, on my taking leave of him, made me some presents, and favoured me with two appointments—one to preach during Lent in 1837, in another of his churches; and the other to confess, in perpetuo, in the whole of his vast diocese, which he told me was a distinguished privilege that he never before had granted to any one.

This authority to pardon sins, which the bishops take upon themselves to grant, is a great abuse in the Church of Rome. It is a gross imposition, a monopoly, a very usurpation. I do not here enter into the question of auricular confession; I confine my remarks, for the present, to the privilege of granting absolution for sins, which the bishops confer on their friends. To myself it was given in its utmost latitude, for an unlimited period, and for every species of crime. In general, the power is not granted for any length of time. In Rome, it is seldom for more than six months, in Naples, for three only. When it is granted for a year, it may be annually renewed, on application to the bishop. It is seldom conceded without the party's being examined on the doctrine of casuistry at least, and never for every description of sin. Every bishop has his own list of reserved cases; that is to say, of some particular sins, not comprised in the general list of pardonable offences; and for these the confessor is obliged to seek the assistance of the bishop. There are some indeed, which the bishops themselves cannot absolve, the pope always reserving to himself, in these graver matters, the power of absolution; and the confessor is obliged on such occasions to apply to his holiness himself, who, in his turn, refers him to the grand penitentiary; since neither the pope nor any of the bishops receive a confession; which office is always confided to their inferiors; being considered one of far less dignity than that of consecrating a church, blessing a cemetery, or baptizing the bells.

It is a sure sign that a priest who is appointed confessor to a diocese, is a particular friend of the bishop, since, on the slightest disagreement between them, or the least feeling of ill will, he is forthwith suspended from his office. I must here observe that I always enjoyed the friendship of those prelates who from time to time granted me this great privilege in their several jurisdictions; since not a single one of them ever suspended me in the execution of my office, even at a time when I began to be suspected of entertaining heretical opinions. It was also an honourable distinction in my favour, that none of the bishops by whom I was appointed ever thought it necessary to subject me to the usual examination. Neither did I ever solicit the office, it having been invariably bestowed on me as a mark of their individual good will. I have a whole bundle of these diplomas, many bearing the signature of cardinals, and one from the Archbishop, the great chaplain of the King of Naples, for all the royal churches in the kingdom of the Two Sicilies. Some were presented to me out of compliment; as, for instance, by the Bishop of Nocera, on the occasion of his returning my visit to him, in the year 1836, when his first act was to present me with the office of confessor. The same also took place with the Archbishop of Sorrento, the first time I was in his company, which was at dinner in his own house. It is astonishing to see the exceeding politeness and courtesy with which these worthies bestow on their subordinates the power to pardon the most grievous offences against the Majesty of Heaven. Would they, with equal grace and condescension, have granted it for offences committed against themselves? A circumstance that took place between one of these dignitaries and myself, will throw a little light on the subject.

I went one day to Sorrento, to endeavour to promote a reconciliation between the archbishop and a poor priest of Meta, whom the archbishop had, for a number of years, hated and persecuted to such an extent as to create a great scandal through the whole diocese. The chief cause of offence complained of by the archbishop was, that the priest had written some satirical lines upon him, and had also spoken of him with little reverence. The priest had subsequently heartily repented of the act, and had in every possible manner implored forgiveness for the offence: he had written many letters in the humblest style, and had frequently got persons of character and respectability to intercede for him. It was, however, all in vain. The archbishop was obstinate, and persisted in holding the priest in suspension from the performance of all ecclesiastical duty within his diocese. The last hope remained with me, and out of compassion for the poor fellow, I undertook the task, as well as for regard towards the Archbishop, who, before being acquainted with me, had spoken of me with kindness; in return, therefore, I was equally anxious to be useful to him. My visit to him took place after we had exchanged two or three polite notes, and was apparently the result of a desire for greater mutual acquaintance, but, for my own part, my principal object was this affair of the priest. As the Archbishop had no idea of the kind, I waited for a favourable opportunity to introduce the subject, which soon presented itself on his Grace's bestowing on me the diploma of a Confessor.

"Then I am authorized, in virtue of this, to receive confessions of all offences committed against God, and to grant pardon and absolution to whoever repents?"

"Unquestionably; and, moreover, I invest you with power to do so, in all reserved cases, for the term of a year."

"This is certainly a very desirable power, and one for which I have for some time been particularly anxious. I can then absolve in those cases reserved for your Grace?"

"Yes; and for those referred to the Synod of the diocese."

"It is well; I shall then absolve whoever truly confesses, however great his sin may be."

"To be sure; it is to the greatest sinners that God extends the chiefest mercy, and we, as his ministers, should receive them with open arms," observed the Archbishop.

"How gracious the Lord is to pardon so freely," I continued; "I am lost in admiration whenever I reflect on the manner in which Jesus Christ pardoned the poor woman, and also the publican in the parable, immediately on his asking it. Alas! how difficult we find it to follow his blessed example! how reluctant we are to pardon those who have offended ourselves! notwithstanding Jesus Christ has told us, 'If ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.'[85] And it avails us little if we do so once or twice, or even ten times; for Christ commanded Peter to forgive seventy times seven; which signifies to forgive without limitation; as it is written, 'If thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him; and if he repent forgive him. And if he trespass against thee seven times in a day, and seven times in a day turn to thee, saying, I repent; thou shalt forgive him.'"[86]

At these words I fancied I perceived in the countenance of the Archbishop an acknowledgment of the sacred nature of this duty, and accordingly I thought it best to seize the opportunity without further preparation. "Monsignore," I exclaimed, "these divine assurances encourage the poor priest Lasteria to ask anew of your Grace pardon for the offence he acknowledges he has committed, and of which he now thoroughly repents."

"No," loudly roared out the Archbishop, "it is not true that he repents; he only feigns to do so, that I may be induced to pardon him. To all others I am willing, but to this person I can never extend that favour."

"Monsignore, the poor man came to me yesterday with tears in his eyes. 'I hope,' said he, 'that my Archbishop will at length consent to pardon me, for the love of God, and that the blessed God may also pardon him his sins. Oh! what comfort shall I experience if he restores me to his favour! if you obtain permission for me to go and make my peace with him, I shall then be content to die.'"

"I cannot receive him; neither will I pardon him, till I am thoroughly convinced of his repentance and humiliation."

"What then must he do?"

"Go into a monastery, and remain there till I recall him."

"And for what purpose?"

"To undergo penance."

"God makes no such condition to us. We should be badly off, if for every offence we had to undergo a suitable penance! If God pardons, on the sole consideration that Jesus Christ has made satisfaction for us, as faith teaches us to believe, can we find any excuse for not pardoning those for whom Christ has suffered? On what condition does Christ pardon our sins? What penance has he enjoined?"

"What! do you deny then that the Church has a right to impose penance?"

"I find that the custom is very much lessened. The question, however, at present, has nothing to do with the Church. It is altogether a personal offence, and you have yourself full power to remit——"

"No, no, I cannot remit, the offence has been too public."

"All the better. Your Excellence will grant the more public and solemn forgiveness."

"It appears to me that you are come here to preach me a sermon, rather than to pay me a visit."

"Exactly; it is the visit of a Preacher. Ought I to waste my time in vain speeches or idle compliments? I avail myself of the present opportunity to discuss an affair of equal importance to your Excellence and to the priest; and I declare it is for the regard I entertain for both parties that I interest myself in it. If the priest, on his part, has need of your pardon, it cannot be denied that it would be equally advantageous for your Excellence to grant it him, to put a stop to all the idle talk of the neighbourhood, as well as to the imprecations of the numerous relatives and friends of the priest, who form a large party in Meta and Sorrento."

"What a capital advocate you are!"

"Have I then gained my cause?"

"Tell your client to do as I have said—let him go into a monastery, and then he may send to me again, and I may perhaps take his petition into consideration. Now let us talk of something else."

In this way it was that the Archbishop closed the door upon all hope of reconciliation: he refused his brother the forgiveness which he asked of him for the love of God. A year after, the cholera put an end to his life.... How fearful are thy judgments, Lord! Here was a man who willingly pardoned all sins committed against God, but who knew not how to pardon a single fault against himself. Such is the character of the higher Clergy in the Romish Church; indulgent in the extreme to all those who do not stand in the way of their interests or their ambition, they are implacable in their hatred, and cruel and fierce in their vengeance.

No sooner had I taken up my abode in Naples, after the termination of my preaching at Capua, than I was exceedingly courted by the Bishops and the Superiors of the Order. I had on every side the offer of a pulpit in their churches. I chose before all others the Lent discourses for 1836, in the principal Church of the Dominicans, as a testimony of my good will towards them. In 1837 I was again engaged by the Cardinal of Capua. In 1838 I officiated for the Cardinal of Naples; and in 1839 I preached for the Papal Nuncio, in his church of St. James.

In this manner passed over the six years that I remained in Naples. My occupation was not confined to the city, it extended to the neighbouring parts. Besides the duty during Lent, every Sunday and Festival, throughout the year, I preached in various churches, and occasionally on other days of the week. I have frequently delivered two or three sermons in the course of the same day. A part only of these discourses was prepared beforehand, as it was impossible for me to write even one half of what I preached; but in general I found no difficulty in getting through my task, as I had accustomed myself from an early period to extempore delivery, which had now become easy and familiar to me; sometimes, however, not being exactly in the mood, I could not express myself with equal fluency as at others. Still I think it is the preferable mode for evangelical preaching, as notwithstanding a few trifling inconveniences, arising from occasional repetition and inexactitude, its simplicity presents a great advantage; since with regard to expression, the less it is studied, the more it is true, persuasive, and touching: moreover, he who is completely master of his subject need not fear that he will want words or proper arrangement; according to the opinion of Horace—

My preaching was originally commenced, as is customary with all students in religion, with the study of rhetoric; and was limited by certain rules, which teach the manner of arranging the various parts of an oration: hence I at first experienced a sort of vain glory in my pursuit, and panted to acquire the fame of an eloquent orator; but I afterwards changed my style, when I became convinced that a sacred speaker ought to be governed rather by the influence of the Holy Spirit than by rules of art; I therefore applied myself more to prayer than to study, and my discourses became less brilliant, but more efficacious. Any one who had heard me preach at these different epochs would readily have perceived the change I speak of, though he might not have understood the reason of it. My first attempts aimed at great elegance of style, and I was ambitious to be thought an able writer. My sermons at the Court of Lucca were of this character: I was then about twenty years of age, and had not yet been ordained priest. Persons of high distinction were among my auditors; among whom I may reckon Lazaro Papi, the Marquess Cesare Lucchesini, Professor Gigliotti, and the famous personages, Teresa Bandettini and Costanza Moscheni. I was honoured with their friendship, and they approved of my pulpit-labours. Alas for me! How little at that time had I been educated in the school of the Redeemer! The favour of men was all I sought after. By degrees, however, I began to perceive that all this was vanity.

From Lucca I proceeded to Rome, and from thence to Viterbo. My preaching had much improved; it had less display, and was more suitable to its design. I reserved my flowers of eloquence for panygeric orations, (which in my then darkened state greatly occupied me,) and began to be more grave and sedate in my style. On my removal to Naples, these feelings increased, as I thought, more deeply on matters of true religion, and my sermons assumed an evangelical tone, which was agreeable to persons of talent; and I was perfectly indifferent as to the opinion of those who disliked it.

The last of my Lent duties, that at the church of St. Giacomo, at Naples, was the actual commencement of my new style. I gave a series of thirty-seven discourses, in which I not only avoided all papistic doctrines, but set forth those contained in the Scriptures themselves; such as justification by faith, the sole mediation of Christ, his only priesthood, and single sacrifice, &c. These were entirely new views in a country where nothing else was taught than the efficacy of works of merit, the intercession of saints, the pretended dignity of the priests, the great value of the mass applied to souls in purgatory, and the necessity of worshipping the Madonna.

I saw very clearly that my advocating anew the practice enjoined in the ancient and holy teaching of our forefathers, would excite the fiercest animosity against me. I began to hear it rumoured about that my sermons were more Protestant than Catholic; I received several anonymous letters on the subject; and as at that time I preached every Sunday in the church of St. Peter the Martyr, I saw many priests among my congregation, who had very much the look of spies. Notwithstanding all this, I stuck to my argument, and continued to preach in the same style the doctrine of early Christianity; bringing texts from Scripture alone, in support of my propositions, rarely citing the Fathers, and never the Theologians of the Romish Church. The altered character of my discourses soon gave rise to many conferences among the bigots of the Neapolitan clergy, and to many letters from Rome. The Cardinal Archbishop asked me one day if it was true that these conferences and letters had reference to the new doctrines I was advocating.

"They are new," I replied, "in the same manner that the moon every fresh month is called new, though she is nevertheless as old as the world."

"But they assert that you no longer preach the necessity of good works, faith alone being sufficient."

"That is not exactly the case; I stated that works are not good, unless they are the fruits of faith, and that others are of no avail; as St. Paul says, 'Whatsoever is not of faith is sin,'[87] which signifies all disorder and deviation from the right road."

On another occasion the good Cardinal reproved me because I had asserted in one of my sermons, that the most beneficial mode of confession was that which was made to God; and the best penitence a sincere renewal of the heart, and a humble return to Him.

"It is very true," was my reply, "and if your Eminence calls upon me to prove it, I am ready to do so from the Holy Scriptures."

"There is no necessity: your proposition may be true, abstractedly considered—that is to say, viewed theoretically; but in practice you would not find it so useful."

"I understand; it would not be so useful to the priests and the confessors, but greatly more so to the people. If everybody was in the habit of confessing to God alone, what necessity would there be for such a host of priestly confessors? But the question is, not what we ourselves prefer, but what we ought to teach the people. I wish to God that every one would confess to his priest less, and to his God more; as our fathers had the grace to do in former times."

I paused, but the Cardinal, not having a reply ready, remained silent. I therefore continued:

"Your Eminence has already shown me so much kindness, that I am encouraged to lay open my mind more fully. Is it not a fact, that in no other place is there so great a herd of confessors as at Naples? What now is their real object? Your Eminence will tell me that it is to listen to a recital of sins, and to give absolution for them; but I maintain that their real object is to get money; and it is more notoriously the case in Naples than elsewhere. The predecessor of your Eminence, Cardinal Ruffo, when he conferred the office of Confessor on any one, used to say, 'There, my dear fellow, there's a good fifteen ducats a month for you, if you know how to go to work!'

"Now I happen to know that his hint was not thrown away: the least industrious among them get their fifteen ducats, and as to the others!—ask the confessors of the nuns what they gain by their business. I do not mean to say that they require payment for an absolution, that would be too barefaced. They do not sell, but they accept gifts; if not for themselves, for the souls in purgatory, or for some miraculous image, for which they require masses and other oblations. Is it not true that they impose, as a penance, the obligation to cause a number of masses to be celebrated? And to whose pecuniary benefit, if not the confessor's? And in cases of deathbeds, how vast is the speculation of these gentry! Let your Eminence look to the operations of the Jesuits in this line of business; to the Missionaries, to the Liguorini, to the Theatines, the Franciscans, the Dominicans, and other worthies of the same class, who despoil houses, impoverish families, and frequently turn mother and children out of doors, destitute and forlorn. These evils, as your Eminence knows far better than I do, are the results of the practice of confession. I would that your heart were equally pained as mine is, by the reflection. Although I have not the authority of a bishop in this place, still, if I were silent on the occasion, I should consider myself as guilty of favouring the practice. Much more is required of him who is in reality the pastor of this flock, who has assumed the office of watching over it, and to whom are addressed the words that were spoken to Timothy: 'I charge thee ... preach the Word; be instant in season, out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering and doctrine.'"[88]

Cardinal Caracciolo wrung my hand, and exclaimed, with a sigh: "Oh! what a hard trial it is to be a bishop! What a burthen on one's shoulders! I see many evils in the Church, and would fain apply a remedy to them, but I know not how."

Naples, in point of religion, is an extraordinary country; the inhabitants themselves believe that they have more than the whole world besides; and such indeed would be the fact, if superstition were synonymous with religion. No people upon the whole earth are more superstitious. All the old superstitions of Greece and Rome have taken refuge among them. Idolatry is the foundation of their faith; they have no idea of worship without some statue or picture to bow down to. A God that is not visible to the eye is altogether unknown to them, or exists as a king whom no one is allowed to approach. The God of the Neapolitans has consequently a vast number of ministers, to whom supplication is made. At the time I am speaking of, they had no less than fifty Patron Saints, and I have no doubt the number is now greatly augmented. Every one of these saints has his own state ministers. At the head of them all is St. Januarius, who acts as their president. But this does not exclude St. Gaetano to be prayed to, as a sort of Minister of Finance, who is considered to be in the department of the Divine Providence. The ministry of Grace and Justice appear to be divided between St. Anthony, St. Vincent, and St. Andrew Avellino. The Jesuits endeavoured to foist St. Francis Xavier and St. Louis Gonzaga into this office as well, but they are not considered to have succeeded.

St. Januarius, who, like John Bull, may be looked upon as the prototype of his countrymen, both with respect to their good and bad qualities, has a sort of jealous feeling towards others, and more particularly towards the Jesuits; since it appears he considers them as likely to interfere with his dignity. He is sometimes thought to be a little vindictive, choleric and presumptuous; on which account the Neapolitans occasionally reprove him, and not over gently, in their devotions. I scarcely think a pure and spiritual religion would be possible in this country, where all is so material and so sensual. I have often considered the problem, and am inclined to doubt its practicability, at least with respect to the present generation. They are a people perpetually on the look-out for miracles, and consequently flock round their saints and their madonnas, since the priests assure them that they perform wonders in that way. In their belief, a religion without its daily stock of miracles is no religion at all. I have sometimes heard them discoursing together respecting the Protestant religion, and they have declared that they could not see how there could be a religion without saints to work miracles. They are a people who do not readily believe anything but what is incredible, and repugnant to common sense; so that the more improbable the miracle is, the more willingly it is credited. Il prodigio o È grosso o È niente, is a common saying with them; small doings are not worthy of great saints.

In the midst of this ignorant race, born and educated in the grossest errors and prejudices, there exists a class of persons who do not believe in the superstitions of the vulgar, as they call these pretended miracles of St. Januarius and other saints; neither in the inventions of purgatory and similar stories; having read in some book, or heard some one affirm, that they are no better than fables; but, unhappily, they also extend their unbelief to all that is related of Christ and of his Apostles, and in fact assert that all these writings might be tied together, and thrown into the fire, as old and worthless.

These are the learned, people of genius, who go to church merely to gratify the sight, or to delight the ear with harmony; and who kneel before the reliques and the images in a procession, for the sake of appearance, as they term it. They go to confession at Easter, to deceive the priest into a belief of their piety, and receive the communion that they may escape censure. As lying and hypocritical as they are unbelieving and immoral, they form a very extensive class, most injurious to society in a thousand different ways; chiefly because being, as they are, without faith in religious matters, they are equally void of it in social affairs: and being weak-minded, through continual falsehood, they are mean in all their undertakings; timid and pusillanimous, with a mixture of irritability and rashness. In morality they are monsters of depravity, and this miserable land abounds with such persons more at this present time than ever; in the face of its glorious sun it is covered with the thickest darkness.

Between these two extremes of the direst superstition and utter unbelief, is there for these people no middle path of religion, of pure early Christianity? God alone knows. I have sometimes persuaded myself that there must be such; I have again doubted, and again I have returned to my former hope—at any rate I will not despair of it. Christian charity, and trust in God's mercy and providence, alike forbid me so to do.