LETTERS FROM AN ENGLISH PRESBYTERIAN MINISTER AT ROME, TO A FRIEND IN ENGLAND.*

MY DEAR Rome, Oct. 6, 1844. THE bells are calling the people to early mass, and multitudes of the wearied, the afflicted, the sinful, are now crowding to offer up the aspirations of their devotion to Him who is the Father of all the nations of the earth. It is one of those brilliant mornings when the very atmosphere seems to feel the presence of its God, and when, wafted on its willing breath, every sound is heard with a clearness and a distinctness which awakens all our sensibilities. God, who amidst the bustle and turmoil of the week seemed to have been forgotten, now again reigns upon the earth; and man, from the thoughtlessness of vice, from the feverish pursuits of commerce, from the noise, the gaiety, the distractions of life, has retired within the depths of his soul to reverence the Supreme Ruler of all. How beautiful is the Sabbath morn! How perfect the harmony which exists between it and the human heart! I do not mean the Parliamentary Sabbath, nor that of the gloomy, selfish bigot, who would impose a burden on others which he himself does not carry,-but that periodical repose, that occasional devotion of the best powers of the mind to Him, who at the same time that He asks our willing, our heartfelt homage, does not frown on the innocent and moderate enjoyment of the world. Touching and impressive as are church-bells at all times, I cannot say, however, that they act upon me this morning as they do in one of our sweet English valleys. Here they seem to speak to me in an unknown tongue, to address a race of beings different from myself; and the very same sounds which at Redland or Henbury would throw me into a delicious dream, here have comparatively little power to move me. Such is the influence of association. Who has not felt the difference between a factory and a church bell, let the tones be however alike? I ought not, perhaps, to say that the chime which is ringing in my ears has no voice for me, for by a curious chain of thought it has carried me over the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean, and encircled me with the sweet affections of Home, has reminded me that I owe you a letter, and in some measure has suggested the topics for it.

In my former letters I have spoken of the objects of Roman Catholic worship, and of some of those ornaments or appendages which strike the eye on entering an Italian church. I have been, as it were, hovering about the services of religion, on which I shall now venture to trouble you with a few remarks. Were I a poet, I should undoubtedly introduce my subject by some observations on the sweet melody of those bells which are calling man to worship; nor do I see why I should refrain from doing so, though writing a simple letter, especially when it is considered that bells form so essential a part of Catholic worship, that we may literally say, No bell, no mass. Scarcely is there a religious ceremony or occasion in which they are not used. At different periods of the day they remind the Catholic of his private duties, and the sign of the cross and the lifted hat and the muttered prayer attest the intelligence which exists between them and the feelings. In addition to the church-bell which tolls at Ave Maria, I have often heard the tinkle of a small hand-bell in Albano, with which a man parades the town every evening, reminding at intervals the by-standers of their mortality, of the possibility of their dying that night, and of the wisdom of consideration. Walk through the city at any time we will, and the chances are that we shall hear the same shrill sound announcing the approach of the Viaticum, or of some holy relic, or of the "Santo Bambino" of S. Maria in Ava Coli, bidding us kneel in adoration, if Catholics, or lift our hats, if only heretics. Enter, again, a church, and the clear tinkle of the little bell informs the worshiper what portion of the Mass is completed, or that "Il Signore" is then being elevated. At times,

* For previous Letters, see former Scries of C. R., Vol. XI.

a deeper and a more solemn knell tells of the departure of some poor frail mortal for that dread bourn whence no traveller returneth. All this is very natural. Bells are a convenient and beautiful method of marking times and of conveying intelligence; but it is the superstitious use of them which strikes us as the peculiar feature in the worship of the Italian Catholic. In the early ages of the Christian Church, they were not used, for obvious reasons, nor indeed were they introduced till after the time of Constantine, when in the tenth and eleventh centuries there was a kind of enthusiasm for them. Some cities made presents of bell-ropes to distinguished churches, believing "that Saints hearing things that were blessed during a storm, would drive away the demons who raised it." The early Christian emperors had the custom of taking into the field a large bell on a car, which was regarded as sacred by the soldiers; and during the wars of the Italian Republics more particularly, this custom was observed. Thus, in 1237, Frederic ÎI. took one from the Milanese and sent it a present to Rome. They were and still are blessed and baptized by a bishop previous to suspension, have a godfather and a godmother assigned to them, receive a name-in fact, to use the words of a neighbour, are Christians such as we are. Two bells are now announcing that the Viaticum has left the nearest church for some sick person, the largest of which is named "St. Costanzo," and the smaller, on account of the greater delicacy of its texture, "Santa Maria." Nor is the superstition attaching to bells a feature in the history of the past merely, for in some districts I have found it as strong as in the palmy days of monasticism. During the raging of a tremendous storm some two years since, I was on the coast, and such was the damage done to the shipping, that a person informed me that if it continued the bells would be rung to scare away the devils who had raised it: and such, in fact, is not an uncommon practice in the country districts of Italy. The process of reasoning by which they arrive at such a conviction is as follows. All evil, physical or moral, is attributed in the first place to demoniacal influence; secondly, demons cannot come within the sound of a church-bell; therefore, immediately that the rope is pulled, a kind of neutral ground is created, the air becomes clear, and the storm is calmed. Assuming the data to be correct, the conclusion is inevitable. To the supernatural power attached to bells we are indebted, again, for a very beautiful feature in rural life in Italy. Few sounds are sweeter, or have been more celebrated in poetry, than that of the tinkling chime which one hears among the mountains of Italy as the mule wends his steady way along the giddy heights of the Appenines. I cannot say that the origin of the use is attended to now, but there is no doubt that bells were at first so used for the purpose of driving away maladies from animals, or, in other words, the evil spirits who were supposed to be the cause of them. Poor beasts! lazily they pursue their weary road, unconscious of the care of their Christian masters, cheered, however, by the melody they create, and cheering the solitary traveller amidst those wild tracts.

It is time, however, now to enter the church, and, to tell the truth, I shrewdly suspect that Ss. Costanzo and Maria will be heartily tired of tolling. The first act of every one, as you will observe, is to "lustrate" himself-a very significant and innocent act, to which there can be no abstract objection: yet more, amongst a people whose attention to the substance can only be secured through the medium of forms, none is better calculated to produce its effect. It is, however, when water thus used is supposed to be made holy by some religious ceremony, and to be impregnated with a supernatural influence, that it becomes more open to remark. Twice a year, at Pentecost and at Easter, water is blessed for the service of the Church. I have seen the ceremony several times, but never with greater pomp than in the oratory of Constantine, which adjoins the Church of San. Giovanni in Laterano. It was at the annual baptism of Jews, Turks and Infidels, who, if report says true, are not merely received into the Church of God on this occasion, but find themselves considerable gainers by their piety. However this may be, his Eminence having

thrice breathed over the water, dipped a blessed taper into it, and having thrice made the sign of the Cross over it and poured oil into it, its nature was changed and the Holy Spirit was supposed to have entered it. Thus blessed, it is used in every religious ceremony. It is sprinkled over man at his birth and over his coffin at his death, over any spot which has become unfortunate or unholy by accident or credulity; and in country-places, on the day of the benediction, I have seen each one fill his little bottle with it and carry it home for his domestic supply. Who knows what unforeseen disaster may happen to him in the coming year? Who knows but that, at that moment, some dear friend may be stretched on a bed of sickness, panting for what to him are the waters of life? In health or in sickness, however, it serves for his morning and evening Ave and Pater-noster. Not only are Christian men made partakers of the holy influences of water, but even the brute creation. Thus, on St. Anthony's day, thousands of animals are sprinkled with the holy stream and liberated from the dominion of Satan (from the pug-dog upwards to the racer). The worshiper having then purified himself with holy water, may venture to approach the altar, which is brilliantly illuminated, let us say, for some religious fête. The quantity of wax which is consumed in this country is perfectly astounding, creating, if it does no other good, a considerable trade, and affording uncertain occupation to a host of ragged urchins, who follow every procession and catch the wax as it falls from the blazing taper, in hopes of making a baiocchi. Light seems to be so essentially necessary to the Catholic Church, that candles are continually burning in the crowded street, in the private dwelling, in the house of God: nor must you consider it as common light; it is kindled from holy fire, which is blessed every Easter. The Missal has an office for the occasion. The candles being all extinguished, the priest re-lights them from new fire, which is maintained till the following year. The most particular directions are given as to the number of candles to be used on every religious occasion-so many when a Curate, so many when a Bishop, so many when the Pope officiates. Thus the Church leaves nothing to the discretion of her ministers, not even the lighting of a taper. Candles form an essential feature in every religious ceremony; whether it be a baptism, a marriage or a death, whether there be a festive or a funeral procession, nothing can ever be transacted without the intervention of light; and I have seen many a funeral procession, at night especially, in which the confraternities to the number of several hundred followed, each bearing a taper. When Gregory XI., says the historian, returned from Avignon, he was met by a procession bearing 8000 torches. The enormous number reminds me of a visit I once paid to a Bishop in the north of Italy, in company with a Portuguese nobleman. The Bishop, whose kind and gentle manner bespoke a truly Christian spirit, most courteously urged me to remain some days with him, informing me that his church in the ensuing week would be illuminated with 6000 candles. I mention the fact merely to shew how largely light-material, common, earthly light-enters into the services of the Church, and what are the means employed to dazzle and subdue the public mind of Italy. It is not, however, the Church alone which is thus highly favoured, for every shop has its candle, every corner of a street its lamp and image; and on the vigil of a Saint it is not uncommon to see a whole district or city lighted up-a beautiful spectacle indeed, as I have witnessed it on the lovely banks of Como. A singular improviso-kind of illumination, however, came under my notice the other evening, as I was returning from a stroll. The bustle of occupation had ceased, crowds were on their knees with uncovered heads, and every window had its light. "Il Signore viene," said a devotee to me; but, even without this explanation, the tinkle of the sacristan's bell would have told me that the "Ostia," or more popularly "Il Signore," or "Gesù Christo," had been carried to some sick person; and hence it was that, according to custom, a light had been placed in every window in honour of the Creator of the ends of the earth, who was being carried on a patena through that district. Candles, too, form

a very large proportion of the offerings, whether votive or otherwise, which are made to the Church. On St. Anthony's day, the sprinkling and benediction is paid for in the majority of cases by a candle; and most amusing figures are the riders of the shaggy Campagna pony, with their long ox pole in one hand and their waxen candle in the other, as they gallop up to the holy shrine. Of their votive uses I have witnessed one in my own person. Having escaped from some considerable danger, a candle was immediately offered up to the Madonna in token of gratitude for my preservation. A friend, too, who had recovered from a dangerous sickness, vowed to light up his parish church on the occasion of some great fête, and a most brilliant display there was, as I can testify, and most liberal was my friend both of his purse and labour. Alas! what trifles these things appear to us, who without vanity may say that we have in some measure laid aside childish things: but every season of life, in the individual or the nation, every mental condition, has its peculiar development and susceptibilities, and the trifles of one state are the serious things of another. The rattle is all in all to the infant-the reed is the Madonna's sceptre-the candle is a holy thing to the Catholic; and thus, rising higher and higher in the scale of intelligence and education, we shall find that we have all our trifles, from the babe to a Newton. So far, however, as candles are used as emblems, all well and good; light is a very beautiful and striking religious emblem, and likely to be useful and impressive amongst a people whose mental condition requires the aid of forms; but when they are regarded with a superstitious reverence, we cannot speak with the same indulgence. I have already alluded to the fact that once a year holy fire is lighted, with which the holy candles are re-lighted. I have several times witnessed, on Candlemas-day, the striking ceremony of the presentation of candles in St. Peter's, by his Holiness. These candles are preserved by those who receive them as holy and beneficial. Moroni, now in the service of his Holiness, thus writes: "Blessed candles are of avail against evil spirits and tempests. In the habitation of the faithful a blessed candle is useful and necessary, in the agony of death, to drive away demons, wicked thoughts, and to implore Divine aid. Such candles, with the image of God or the Madonna painted on them, are used at sea to implore Divine succour in danger;" and the fact is, in short, that amongst the people they are regarded with great reverence, are preserved many years, and are used on many an extraordinary and trying occasion. The use of incense is another feature in the services of the Catholic Church and it is not uncommonly used in private also, to avert any anticipated disaster. I was staying at an inn some time since, when the hostess stumbled with her child; great was the distress of the poor woman, conceiving, as she did, that it was a "mal' augurio;" whereupon she immediately burnt some incense and perfumed the whole house. This, indeed, is not an uncom→ mon practice, and holy water is and may be used for a similar purpose. With respect to the oil, too, which enters so largely into the services of the Catholic Church, this also is the subject of a particular benediction. I first saw the ceremony at Nice; and most inexplicable appeared to me, who remained at a disstance, the dumb-show of the bishop and his clergy, who, walking past two vases of oil, breathed over them thrice severally, thinking thereby to infuse the Holy Spirit into them: not, however, was the show so dumb but that I could hear the voice of the bishop, taken up by the rest of the clergy, chanting, as he passed one and the other vase, "Ave sanctum Deum," "Ave sanctum Chresima." Previous to this, however, I may mention that, according to the belief of the peasantry in the oil districts, the fruit receives some species of sanctification. On the vigil of the fête of the Madonna, which is the 15th of August, it is asserted, and soundly believed, that the fruit of the olive, which till then is void of oil, is impregnated with it by the Madonna; and not all the reasoning nor all the proofs in the world would avail to overcome the prejudice and cui bono to attempt to overcome it? Sanctified by the priest, the oil is used in most religious ceremonies; it anoints man at his birth and his death;

it is used as a remedy for many diseases; and many are the fêtes where I have seen it sold in little bottles to cure, perhaps, a sore throat or some other malady. Of the crossings, the genuflections and the kissings, it is unnecessary to say any thing more than that they are regulated by the most precise directions. The priest kisses the different parts of his dress, the altar and its ornaments, and his missal; again he kisses his brethren, and they kiss one another. The Pope himself is peculiarly the subject of these favours; and, as if all parts of his body were not equally holy, some orders, as Cardinals, are permitted to kiss the ring on his finger, others to kiss his knee, and others again, as the laity, to kiss the cross embroidered on his slipper. Besides the services of the Church, kissing is practised towards the clergy by the laity: thus, if a confessor enters a house or meets with one of his flock in the street, they reverently kiss his hand-a custom, however, which I have been given to understand has been prohibited, or is becoming obsolete, in the case of young girls.

We now may venture to approach the officiating priest, who in full canonicals is performing the holy sacrifice of the mass, a service typical, as you know, of a sacrifice, and the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, the last moments of whose life are intended to be represented to the believer's eyes. With the wine is mingled water, typical of the blood and water which gushed from the side of Jesus on the cross, and both it and the wafer are supposed to be changed into the very body and blood of Christ by means of a religious ceremony. At pontifical masses, the wine and the wafer have "tasters"-an ancient practice, doubtless, to assure his Holiness against poison; so that the Vicegerent of God upon earth has not at all times felt himself secure from a Judas. The wine his Holiness drinks through a tube, typical of the reed which was offered to Christ on the cross. Of the wafer, of course many wonderful things are told, and a solemn fête is observed in remembrance of a miracle said to have been wrought at Orvieto on the occasion of an officiating priest having doubts of the real presence, when blood was observed to gush from the wafer. The miracle forms the subject of one of the divine paintings which adorn St. Peter's. The sanctity in which it is held is equal to that with which a Protestant_regards the Omnipresent, Omnipotent God. It is worshiped and bowed to by every one who passes it; it is no longer a material substance; it is Il Signore," "Gesù." "Iddio" is on the altar-"Iddio" passes through the street-" Iddio" is eaten by the communicant, and no one has any farther appetite that day, as a person informed me the other day-an assertion I must be allowed to doubt, at least as far as many a right-rubicund priest and monk is concerned. In administering the wafer, a vessel is held under the chin of the communicant; should it, however, by any accident, fall, particular directions are given for scraping the ground, collecting the particles, burning them and depositing them in the Sacrarium. Delicacy forbids me from alluding to other accidents which may occur, and the directions given appearing indeed ridiculous enough to us, but following as legitimate consequences from faith in the Divine Presence. It is unnecessary to say any thing more of the respect which is paid to the wafer, not merely in but out of the Church: at its presence every sound is hushed; the more devout will leave their carriage even, and kneel with the humble pedestrian; whilst the tradesman, who is cheating you behind the counter, will stop as if paralyzed by the sound of the little bell, "inginocchiarlo," mutter his ave, cross himself thrice, and then resume his fraud with fresh ardour. In all this, however, there is perfect consistency; the principles of the Catholic demand it, and his conduct so far merits praise; but where is the consistency of the clergyman of the Anglican Church, as I have known an instance, who, denying the Divine Presence, religiously collects the relics of the Paschal bread, that they may not be devoted to common purposes, and who in case of accident cleanses the ground with the utmost care, as if there really did reside something supernatural in the elements? Of the efficacy of a mass, the true believer has the most profound belief. It is applicable to any bodily malady: thus I have had an application for charity to pay for a mass by