Her father was St. Augustin; her mother St. Mary the Egyptian; her brother St. William the Hermit, ex-Duke of Aquitaine; her sister St. Margaret of Cortona; her uncle St. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles; her nephews the three children of the furnace of Babylon.”

Now here is a book that you, probably, attribute to the monkish ages; a book expressing the isolated sentiments of a mind obscured by the gloom of the cloisters.

In order to convince you of your error, I will give you its title and date, and the opinion concerning it expressed by the rulers of Rome.

“Life of the Virgin Saint Jacintha Mariscotti, a professed Nun of the Third Order of the Seraphic Father St. Francis, written by the Father Flaminius Mary Hanibal of Latara, Brother Observant of the Order of the Minors.  Rome, 1805.  Published by Antonio Fulgoni, by permission of the Superiors.

“Approbation.—­The book is to the glory and honour of the Catholic Religion and the illustrious Order of St. Francis, and to the spiritual profit of those persons who desire to enter into the way of perfection.

     “Brother Thomas Mancini, of the Order of Preachers, Master,
     ex-Provincial, and Consultor of Sacred Rites.

     “Imprimatur.  Brother Thomas Vincent Pani, of the Order of
     Preachers, Master of the Sacred Apostolical Palace.”

Now here we have a woman, a writer, a censor, and a Master of the Palace, who are ready to strangle the whole human race for the sake of hastening its arrival in Paradise.  These people are only doing their duty.

Just look out into the street.  Four men of different ages are kneeling in the mud before a Madonna, whining out prayers.  Presently, fifteen or twenty others come upon you, chanting a canticle to the glory of Mary.  Perhaps you think they are yielding to a natural inspiration, and freely working out their salvation.  I thought so myself, till I was told that they were paid fifteen-pence for thus edifying the bystanders.  This comedy in the open air is subsidized by the Government.  And the Government does its duty.

The streets and roads swarm with beggars.  Under lay governments the poor either receive succour in their own homes, or are admitted to houses of public charity; they are not allowed to obstruct the public thoroughfares, and tyrannize over the passengers.  But we are in an ecclesiastical country.  On the one hand, poverty is dear to God; on the other, alms-giving is a deed of piety.  If the Pope could make one half of his subjects hold out their hands, and the other half put a halfpenny into each extended palm, he would effect the salvation of an entire people.

Mendicity, which lay sovereigns regard as an ugly sore in the State, to be healed, is tended and watered as a fair flower by a clerical government.  Pray give something to yonder sham cripple; give to that cadger who pretends to have lost an arm; and be sure you don’t forget that blind young man leaning on his father’s arm!  A medical man of my acquaintance offered yesterday to restore his sight, by operating for the cataract.  The father cried aloud with indignant horror at the proposal; the boy is a fortune to him.  Drop an alms for the son into the father’s bowl; the Pope will let you into Paradise, of which he keeps the keys.