the sovereignty of Italy. At last, in 741 a.d. when Italy was not only deserted in her need, but threatened from Byzantium with desolation and heresy, Gregory III. called in the aid of Charles Martel, that Italy might not perish; and by this law, a law of life and preservation, and through the decree of Providence, the Popes became Italian sovereigns, both in right and fact.” On this very lucid and satisfactory account of the origin of the Papal power, S is convinced at once, and is finally dismissed shamefaced, with the unanswerable interrogation, “whether the real object of the Revolution is not to create new men, new nations, new reason, new humanity, and a new God?”
The three abstractions, S, M, D, then re-assemble to recant their errors. One and all avow themselves confuted, and convicted of folly or worse. X gives them absolution with the qualified approval, that “he rejoices in their moral amendment, and trusts the change may be a permanent one,” and then asks them, as an elementary question in their new creed, “What is the true and traditional liberty of Italy, the only one worthy to be sought and loved by all Italians?” To this question with one voice S and
M and D make answer, “Liberty with law, law with religion, and religion with the Pope.” The course of instruction is completed, and if anybody is still unconvinced by the arguments of the all-wise X, I am afraid that his initial letter must be a Z.
So much for the Independenza e Papa, as the pamphlet is styled. I have given, I fear, a somewhat lengthy account of it; not for its literary merits, which are small, but as being the best native defence of the Papacy I have come across. The dull dead vis inertiæ which formed the real strength of the Papacy has been of late exchanged for a petty useless fussiness. Ever since Guerronière’s pamphlet fell like a bomb upon the Vatican there has been a perfect array of paper-champions, sent forth to do battle for the Papal cause. They are mostly, it is true, of foreign growth. Extracts from Montalembert, De Falloux, and Berryer’s speeches, patched together and re-garnished; reprints of the Episcopal charges in France; editions of Count Sola della Margherita’s much be-praised work; and, I regret to say, translations of Lord Normanby’s speeches in the House of Lords, are advertised daily on the walls of Rome. Of native and original productions there
have been but few. Literary talent does not flourish in Rome, and what little there is, is all retained against the Government. The Eye-glance at the Encyclical, the Widow’s Mite, and the Tears of St Peter, are the titles of some of the anonymous pro-Papal tracts published under Government patronage; of these the Independenza e Papa, which is sold at the printing-office of the Giornale di Roma, is decidedly the ablest and most respectable.
CHAPTER VIII. PAPAL LOTTERIES.
If ever anybody had cause to regret the suppression of lotteries, it is the whole tribe of play-writers and authors. Never will there be found again a “Deus ex Machina,” so serviceable or so unfailing as the lottery. If your plot wanted a solution, or your intrigue a dénoûment, or your novel a termination, you could always cut through all your difficulties by the medium of a lottery-ticket. The virtuous but impoverished hero became at once a very Crœsus, and the worldly-minded parent bestowed his daughter and his blessing on the successful gambler, who, by the way, never purchased his own ticket, but always had it bequeathed to him as a legacy. Alas, lottery-tickets, like wealthy uncles and places under government, have gone out of date. The fond glance of
memory turns in vain towards the good old times, when the lottery was in its glory. It is, however, some comfort to reflect, that if, as devout Catholics assert, the Papacy is eternal, then in Rome, at least, lotteries are eternal also. In truth, the lottery is a great, I might almost say the great Pontifical institution. It is a trade not only sanctioned, but actively supported, by the Government. Partly, therefore, as a matter of literary interest, and partly as a curious feature in the economics of the Papal States, I have made various personal researches into the working of the lottery-system, and shall endeavour to give the theoretical not the practical result of my investigations; the latter result being, I am afraid, of a negative description.
Murray, who knows everything, states that in Rome alone fifty-five millions of lottery-tickets are taken annually. Now though I would much sooner doubt the infallibility of the Pope than that of the author of the most invaluable of hand-books, I cannot help thinking there is some strange error in this calculation. The whole population of Rome is under 180,000, and therefore, according to this statement, every living soul in the city, man, woman, priest and child,
must, on an average, take one ticket a day, to make up the amount stated. If, however, without examining the strict arithmetical correctness of this statement, you take it, just as the old Romans used “sex centi” for an indefinite number, as an expression of the fact, that the number of the lottery-tickets taken annually in Rome is quite incredible, you will not be far wrong. During the year 1858 the receipts of the lottery (by which I suppose are meant the net, not the gross receipts) are officially stated to have been 1,181,000 scudi, or about an eleventh of the whole Pontifical revenue. It is true the expenses of the Lottery are charged amidst the state expenditure for the year at 788,987 scudi, but then a large portion of this expense is directly repaid to the Government, and the remainder is paid to the lottery-holders, who all have to pay heavily for the privilege of keeping a lottery-office, and who form also the most devoted of the Papal adherents, more especially since the liberal party have set their faces against the lottery. Common estimation too assigns a far larger profit to the lotteries than Papal returns give it credit for, and, I own that, from the system on which they are conducted, of which I shall speak presently,