| 132 Correspondence of the New England Puritan.
Letters from Europe.
No. 3
Genoa, November 5, 1842.
Messrs: Editors,-In my last letter, I said I had finished my description of Genoa, and would try to carry you over it with me in detail. I had thought of taking you through the churches; but I find it quite impossible. It is one thing to stand in the Nave of a Church, with the lofty arches above you, resting on massive columns of the richest marble-the long colonnades before you going up to the main altar, and paintings and statutes and marble of every description and form, scattered all around you, ;while far in the distance ascends the solemn chant of priests and the smoke of incense-and quite another thing to say here was a fine painting, and there another beautiful column, &c., &c. It is impossible for one to stand in one of these churches, filled with a "a dim religious gloom," the prostrate multitude around him, and the universal chant echoing away amid the distant arches, without a feeling of awe. He cannot escape it, except by fixing his attention on some particular part of the great farce, when the imposing deception vanishes away, and the sounds around him become only the senseless mummeries of deluded men. It was so with me yesterday,-It was some festival day for the dead. A large coffin, covered with a pall, was elevated on one side of the church, surrounded by immense wax candles and the kneeling forms of men. In front before the great altar, with his back to the multitude, stood a priest, gorgeously robed-while farther on arose the chant of many priests. I glided on through the throng, my feelings subdued by the solemn pageantry around me, until passing near the main alter [altar], a sort of box, I saw a fat priest sitting within, wrapped in his robe, and apparently asleep. On passing round the other side, however, I observed a female kneeling with her mouth close to a piece of tin that was punched full of holes, like a strainer, to give a free passage of the voice, while against the inside lay, close and snug, the ear of the priest. It might have been imaginary, but there seemed to be in his very attitude a quiet scorn of the ridiculous farce in which he was playing a part. In a moment my awe was changed into contempt, and I left the gorgeous church with pity and scorn both in my heart‚-pity for the ignorant, sincere, yet misguided people, and scorn for the heartless, licentious priesthood. The remark is often made in our country, that the Protestants do not render to the Catholics what charity demands, To the people we may not-to the priests we render too much. The testimony of Scipio de Bicci, Bishop of Prato and Pistoria in Tuscany, is sufficient to damn the clergy forever. Throughout Tuscany it was proved, by the prioresses of convents themselves, that "the monks were on more intimate terms with the nuns, than if they were married to them"-that universally "the priests are the husbands of the nuns, and lay brothers of the lay sisters" For his faithfulness, the learned bishop was persecuted and imprisoned, and the corruptions left untouched. But the progress of civilization and freedom of thought sends its influence even here. People scan more closely the actions of the clergy, and the Vatican no longer holds kings in such awe of its thunder as formerly. The Austrian Emperor has prohibited convents in his possessions; and the burden that the overstocked and thriftless priesthood imposes, is deeply felt by all. The reverence for signs and symbols is fast passing from the earth. Man begins to assert his individual right and personal worth. But here it is infinitely less so than with us. Men are held by outward forms, and a star or a ribbon is worn with ostentatious pride, to catch the wonder of the gaping multitude. The church, especially, has times of great display, that dazzles and bewilders the ignorant. Yesterday I stepped into a magnificient [magnificent] church, decorated in honor of its patron Saint. Each church has its own Saint, as its peculiar patron. Each Saint has its peculiar day, or festival, in honor of itself, on which services are performed, chimes rung, &c., &c. This was the day of the patron Saint of the church; and if richness and magnificence could propitiate his favor, it was most certainly secured. As I entered through the gloomy portals, I was almost struck blind by the blaze of light that burst upon me. From the marble floor to the high-arched and richly wrought roof, it was one pile of wealth, and splendor. Wax tapers, 8 or 10 feet long, were burning on every side of the building, and before the altars-while chandelier rising above chandelier, made of solid silver, and loaded with lustres [luster's] hung by silken scarfs between the massive columns, which, in their turn, were wrapped from the plinth to the capital in crimson damask, laced with gold. Silk festoons were stretched between them, sparkling with diamonds; while amid and under all was the dark, dense crowed, bowing in silent worship. Two of the lamps were of solid gold. As I stood dazzled and silent amid this splendor, and heard the slow, deep chant begin and swell out over the throng, I could almost forgive them their credulity. It is by such outward desplay [display], and not by its internal worth, that the Catholic Church holds its sway over the people. The churches of Genoa are not so magnificient [magnificent] as some in the South of Italy; but they have less
(page 132) |
