WHEN speaking of the doctrines and practices of Rome, we are frequently met with the “charitable” and the “fashionable” remark, “But, we are living in the nineteenth century!” This is supposed to set aside mediaeval legend and medieval practice, and is intended to hush all our fears as to extravagance in belief or cruelty in behavior. To be living in the nineteenth century is, however, not to be living in the millennium, neither is it the case that the advent of this century has changed the heart of Rome one whit. We purpose giving from time to time a few pictures of Rome as she is today. In viewing them, our reader will form his own judgment of the Christian honor and enlightenment of those who call out for reunion with Rome.
PICTURE THE FIRST.
The island of Sicily was untouched by the Reformation―no heretical Protestantism defiled its shores, and, until quite recently, its people were under the unmingled light of Romish teaching. James says, “Show me thy faith by thy works,” and thus did the faithful people of Sicily prove their faith.
In the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-two (but four years ago), there was a terrible drought in Sicily. For a lengthened period, not only no rain but a blazing scorching sun. At length the priests proposed to appoint a day for special intercession of the saints to send down rain, and summoned the people to a church in a town of one of the sorely afflicted districts.
The people duly assembled, townspeople and peasants, on the day and in the church appointed. Then, with much ceremony, the priests and their assistants removed the gaudily attired images of the saints from their niches, and forming in procession carried them with great honor to the marketplace of the town. A solemn invocation of the saints followed, the people bowing the knee and pleading with them to send down rain. The service ended, the images were again borne aloft, and in procession carried back to the church and replaced in their respective niches.
But no rain came. The sun blazed furiously. “The clouds were far away,” said the people, “the saints have not had time to gather them together.” But the next day, and the next, and still the third day gave no signs of rain, and the people became furious. Again they assembled together in the church, this time not to honor their saints, but to reproach and punish them. “If they will not listen to our prayers,” cried the people, “they must listen to our threats.” So they bore them back to the market place, stripped them of their gaudy attire and thrashed them soundly for not answering their prayers. The following day the images were clothed in rags and thus returned to their niches in the church.