« 이전계속 »
domesties of all classes. Besides these he has
his confessor, preacher, chaplains—queer neces-
sities these for the fountain-head of religion—
his porters, jesters, poultrymen, and muleteers.
These all have rank and appointments in the sa-
cred household, mingling strangely with "mon-
signori" the secretaries of state, and other offi-
cials. The private chamberlains who wait in
the ante-chambers are clergymen. In imita-
tion of imperial courts, we find cup-bearers, mas-
ters of the wardrobe, grand esquires, a grand
herald, private chamberlains of the tword and
cloak, who wear the black-spangled dress, the
most graceful of all court costumes, and a guard
of nobles, magnificently uniformed, a section of
which attends at divine service in the Pope's
chapel with drawn swords.
Each cardinal and high officer has a little court
of his own. When the revenues of Christendom
flowed into the papal treasury, it was not difficult
to maintain this state and expense; but, now
that it falls mainly on the Roman Sacristory, it
becomes a burden which Christian humility might
consistently seek to lighten. When there exists
so numerous a corps of servants, whether of the
household or church, invention must be racked
to find employment for them; consequently, we
are not surprised to see that during high church
ceremonies—for instance, on Palm Sunday it
requires "a prince, an auditor of the rota, two
clerks of the chamber, and two mace-bearers,"
to present a basin of water to the Pope, in which
he washes his hands, while a cardinal dean holds
the towel, a senior cardinal priest hands him the
incense, which he puts into a censer held by the
"senior voter of the signature." Verily, St. Peter
could have written all his epistles in much less
time than it would have taken him to learn the ti-
tles and employments of the household of his suc-
cessors in the nineteenth century! "In the sacred
functions of the altar, when the Pope assists with-
out officiating," says Bishop England, he selects
the officers from a number of names presented
by the chapters of each of the three patriarchal
basilies, selecting "always a nobleman, if his
other qualifications be equal to those of his asso-
ciates"—the wisdom of which choice, and its
consistency with Christianity, all republicans
can not fail to perceive.
The mode of electing a Pope is curious. The
conclave is the assemblage of the cardinals for
that purpose. They select their own place of
meeting, in general choosing simply between the
Vatican or Quirinal palaces.
The day after the last day of the funeral cere-
monies of a deceased Pope, the mass of the Holy
Ghost is repeated with great solemnity, a Latin
discourse pronounced, and the procession of car-
dinals enters the chapel, chanting Vent Creator.
The bulls concerning the election are read, and
the cardinal dean harangues them upon the du-
ties prescribed for the occasion. Each cardinal
then takes his place in the conclave, that is, re-
tires to his cell, a small room of about twelve
feet square, modestly furnished by himself, with
his arms over the door. These cells are all alike,
upon the same floor, and arranged in galleries.
Chimneys are not permitted, warmth being com-
municated from the neighboring rooms. To
make the isolation complete, in winter the win-
dows are all built up, excepting a single pane.
In summer the cardinals are permitted to look
into the garden.
For the service of each cell there is allowed a
secretary and one gentleman, who are obliged to
perform the duties of domesties. But as the
emoluments are great, consisting of a consider-
able sum before the conclave, and a distribution
of ten thousand crowns by the new Pope after
his election, besides certain advantages for their
future career, these posts are much sought after
by the younger ecclesiasties.
The conclave is allowed also the services of a
sacristan, two sub-sacristans, a confessor, four
masters of ceremonies, two physicians, an apoth-
ecary, three barbers, a mason, a carpenter, and
twelve valets, whose livery is violet.
Before the cardinals enter into conclave, should
any feel not adequate to the discipline about to
be imposed upon them, they are warned to re-
tire. Once in conclave, they are placed in soli-
tary confinement, each in his own cell. Every
avenue to the palace is strictly guarded by de-
tachments of soldiers, and each door carefully
closed. The only communication from without
is by means of small revolving shelves, or boxes,
like the "tourt" of foundling hospitals, through
which the meals are passed, and also any official
communications, but only in the presence, and
with the authorization of their military guard-
ians. Vocal intercourse is permitted only at cer-
tain high apertures in the walls, in Italian, and
with raised voices, so that the guards can hear
and understand the conversation. The utmost
precautions are taken to prevent the inmates of
adjoining cells from communicating with each
other. If a cardinal become ill, he is permitted
to go out, but he can not re-enter his cell during
Before the closing of the conclave, a final day is
permitted to the visits and conferences of the car-
dinals, in the hall arranged for that purpose. These
interviews are according to prescribed rules.
All the expenses of the conclave are borne by
the Apostolic Chamber. Among these, the meals
are not the least. As nothing is done in Rome
without a procession, the dinners of the cardinals
are served up in the same manner. The order
is as follows:
At the head, two footmen with wooden maces.
A valet with the silver.
The gentlemen in service, two by two, bare-
The chief cook with a napkin on his shoulder.
Cup-bearers and esquires.
Two footmen, carrying upon their shoulders a
huge dish-warmer, containing the meats, 1fcc.
Then follow the valets, with wine- and fruit in
Upon arriving at the palace, each cardinal is
visited in turn by his procession, and the dinner
deposited. But before this is done, every dish is
inspected lest some letter or message should be
concealed within the viands. The bottles and
glasses are required to be transparent, and the
vases sufficiently shallow to show their depths.
With all these precautions, however, diplomatic
ingenuity at times contrives to convey hidden
communications. The fruits often speak intelli-
gibly for themselves. A truffle has served to
baffle a rival combination, and destroy a choice
tixed upon for the succeeding day. This species
of culinary diplomacy was due, as might be ex-
pected, to an embassador of France.
There are four modes of electing the Pope: the
"adoration," the "compromise," the "icrutin,"
and the " aceetsit."
The votes are deposited by the cardinals, ae-
, .dling to certain prescribed rules, in a chalice
placed upon an altar, either in the Sistine Chapel
or one of the same dimensions at the Quirinal.
They are summoned twice a day, at six in the
morning and at the same hour of the evening, to
deposit their votes. These are carried bv them-
selves on golden plates. Each bulletin contain-
ing the vote is carefully scaled, and stamped with
some fanciful design, known only to the voter,
and prepared expressly for his vote. Great care
is also taken to disguise the handwriting so that
no external clew to the voter's choice can be de-
tected. This act is preceded by an oath to choose
him whom they believe the most worthy, and is
accompanied by sacred chants. The officers, de-
signated by lot to examine the votes, inspect them
with the most minute attention and precautions,
for fear of fraud. If a cardinal has obtained two-
thirds of the votes, they are verified by comparing
the names of the voters with their chosen devices.
Should two-thirds of the votes be wanting to one
name, the bulletins are burned, and the voting
commences anew. The smoke which arises from
the chimney attached to the chapel at this hour,
telegraphs to an expectant crowd without the
failure of the vote.
Election by " adoration" is when a cardinal, in
giving his vote, goes toward his candidate, pro-
claiming him the Head of the Church; and is
followed by two-thirds of the cardinals imitating
his example. The "compromise" is when the un-
certain suffrages are given to certain members of
the conclave from which to elect a Pope. The
"scrutin" is the secret ballot. The "accessit"
is the last resource for a choice, but as it is sel-
dom resorted to, and I do not clearly comprehend
the process myself, I can not give it to my read-
ers. During the examination of the votes by
secret ballot, the cardinals say masses upon the
six altars of the chapel.
The excessive precautions taken to insure
purity of choice, betray the extent to which fac-
tion and corruption must have intruded into these
elections. In times past the most scandalous
scenes have preceded and accompanied the in-
trigues which, despite the severity of the regula-
tions, find entrance into the holy conclave,
splitting it into unholy factions. During the
comparatively recent conclave, which resulted in
the election of Pius VI., the cardinals even pro-
ceeded to blows, and their excitement rivaled the
worst scenes that have ever occurred in any
After his election the Pope selects the name
by which he wishes to be known. The Master
of Ceremonies then clothes him in the papal vest-
ments, and the cardinals, each in tum, kiss his
hands and feet, the Pope giving them upon the
right cheek the kiss of peace. They then chant,
"Behold the high priest, pleasing to God, and
found just.!'' The guns of St. Angelo thunder
forth a salute, every bell of the city augments the
joyous clamor, and drums, trumpets, and timbrels,
amid the acclamations of the people—if the elec-
tion be a popular one—complete the noisy chorus.
After a special adoration in the Sistine Chapel,
the Pope seats himself under a red canopy before
the grand altar in St. Peter's, where he receives
the adoration of the people. This finished, he is
borne in grand procession to the palace which he
selects for his residence. In the adoration paid
1o the Pope enlightened Romanists disclaim, and
with justice no doubt, any act of personal idola-
try. But while they render the same forms of
homage to a man which we are taught to believe
are due only to God, it will be difficult for the
mass to discriminate the nice distinction they
would make. Their example, at all events, is so
much weight in the scale of idolatry, while their
motives are far beyond the capacity of ignorant
minds to comprehend.
During the interval between the death of one
Pope and the election of another, the papal func-
tions are administered by an officer called the
"Camerlingue," or Cardinal President, of the
Court of Rome. He holds one of the three keys
of the treasure of the Castle of St. Angelo; the
dean of the sacred college another, and the Pope
The unity and policy of the papal court is un-
doubtedly the same in all ages, so far as concerns
its claims to temporal and spiritual power. Were
it not counteracted by the spirit of the age, there
is no reason to believe it would not now assert its
authority as distinctly and frankly as in the thir-
teenth century, in the mandate of Nicholas III.,
cited in the ninety-sixth distinction of the canon
"It is evident that the Roman pontiff can not
be judged of man, because he is Goo!"
In a bull of Gregory IX., inserted in the De-
cretals, under the title of " Pre-eminence," we
read as follows:
"God has made two great lights for the firma-
ment of the universal Church—that is to say, he
has instituted two dignities: these are the pon-
tifical authority and the royal power. but that
which rules in these days, that is to say over
things spiritual, is the greater, and that which presides over things material the lesser. Therefore all should know that there is as much difference between pontiffs and kings as between the sun and moon. We say that every human creature is subjected to the sovereign pontiff, and that he can (according to the decretal of Innocent III., called the Prebends), in virtue of his full power and sovereign authority, dispose of the natural and divine right."
At this age of the world we may smile at these doctrines. But the spirit which conceived them still exists, though the power then enforced has departed. The haughty ceremonies that accompanied these assumptions of power are yet in full sway, yearly growing in imbecility, as the authority which alone could make them respected becomes more remote. That which once carried with it terrible meaning has now degenerated into pitiful farce. Spectators now gather to Rome during holy festivals, not to worship or to acknowledge the great head of the Christian church, but to wonder at the debasing shows proffered, and the haughty magnificence displayed by priests who found their creed on a gospel of humility and love. Should these remarks be construed as uncharitable, I can only add that where religion, as I intend showing, is metamorphosed designedly into a mere spectacle, it must expect to be subjected to tho ordinary laws of criticism.
BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.
THE CAMPAIGN OF PARIS.
THE war had now become a struggle for the dethronement of Napoleon, and for the effectual suppression, throughout Europe, of those principles of republican equality, to which the French Revolution had given birth. There never was a government so popular as not to have its opposition. In every nation and state allied to France there were many royalists, ready eagerly to join the allied armies. In the triumph of that cause they hoped to regain their exclusive privileges. And in all the old aristocracies there were multitudes, of the more intelligent portion of the populace, hungering for reform. They weleomed, with enthusiasm, the approach of the armies of Napoleon. It was the existence of this party, in such strength, both in England and Ireland, which roused the Tory government of Britain, to such tremendous exertions, to crush, in the person of the French Emperor, the spirit of republican equality. The North British Review, one of the organs of the Tory party, in the following strain, which will certainly amuse American readers, complains of that equality, which Napoleon established in France:
"Those who have watched the interior workings of society in France, long and close at hand, are inclined to attribute much of that uselessness and discontent, which is one of its most striking features, and which is the despair both of the friends of order and the friends of freedom, to the
national system of education. Members of various grades and classes in the social scale are instructed together, in the same schools, in the same mode, and on the same subjects, to a degree of which we havo no example here. If the peasant, the grocer, or the tailor, can scrape together a little money, his son receives his training in the same seminary as the son of the proprietor, whose land he cultivates, whose sugar and coffee he supplies, and whose coat he makes. The boy, who ought to be a laborer or a petty tradesman, sits on the same bench, and leams the same lesson, as the boy who is destined for the bar, the tribune, or the civil service of the state. This system arises out of the passion for equality, and fosters it in tum. The result is, that each one naturally learns to despise his own destination, and to aspire to that of his more fortunate school-fellow. The grocer's son can not see why he should not become an advocate, a journalist, a statesman, as well as the wealthier and noble-born lad, who was often below him in the class, whom he occasionally thrashed, and often helped over the thomy places of his daily task."*
The Allies now advanced triumphantly toward the Rhine. Napoleon roused all his energies to meet the emergence. "Though age," says Bourrienne, "might have been supposed to have deprived him of some of his activity, yet, in that crisis, I beheld him as in his most vigorous youth. Again he developed that fervid mind, which, as in his early conquests, annihilated time and space, and seemed omnipresent in its energies." France, from the Rhine to the Pyrenees, assumed the appearance of a vast arsenal. The Council of State suggested to Napoleon that it might not be wise to announce to the people the humiliating truth that the frontiers of France were invaded.
"Wherefore," replied Napoleon, "should not the truth be told? Wellington has entered the south; the Russians menace the north; the Aus
* It is greatly to Napoleon's bonor, that such men as the Dnke of Wellington were contending against him. It is, in itself, evidence of the righteousness of his cause. Probably there can not be found in the world a man more resolutely hostile to popular reform than was the Duke of Wellington. He was the idol of the aristocracy. He was hated by the people. They had pelted him with mud through the streets of London, and he had been compelled to barricade his windowa against their assaults. Even the soldiers under his command in Spain had no affection for his person; and, not withstanding all the calumnies of the British press, they loved, around their camp-fires, to tell stories of the goodness of Napoleon. Many, too, of these soldiers, after the battle of Waterloo, were sent to Canada. I am informed, by a gentleman of commanding character and Intelligence, that when a child, be has aat for hours listening to the aneedotes in favor of Napoleon which these British aoldiera had picked np in the camp. Yet, true to military discipline, they would stand firmly to their color s in the hour of battle. They were proud of the grandeur of the " Iron Duke," but no soldier loved him. We will Imitate Napoleon's magnanimity, In not questioning the sincerity of the Duke of Wellington's convictions, that an aristocratic govern' ment is best for the people. We aimply state the undeniable fact, that his hostility was deadly to all popular