n philosophy, whose aim is to discover the analogy between
religion and human nature, is as little known to the Italian preachers
as any other kind of philosophy. To think upon matters of religion would
scandalise them as much as to think against it; so much are they
accustomed to move in a beaten track.

The worship of the Blessed Virgin is particularly dear to the Italians,
and to every other nation of the south; it seems in some manner united
with all that is most pure and tender in the affection we feel for
woman. But the same exaggerated figures of rhetoric are found in what
the preachers say upon this subject; and it is impossible to conceive
why their gestures do not turn all that is most serious into mockery.
Hardly ever in Italy do we meet in the august function of the pulpit,
with a true accent or a natural expression.

Oswald, weary of the most tiresome of all monotony--that of affected
vehemence, went to the Coliseum, to hear the Capuchin who was to preach
there in the open air, at the foot of one of those altars which mark
out, within the enclosure, what is called _the Stations of the Cross_.
What can offer a more noble subject of eloquence than the aspect of this
monument, of this amphitheatre, where the martyrs have succeeded to the
gladiators! But nothing of this kind must be expected from the poor
Capuchin, who, of the history of mankind, knows no more than that of his
own life. Nevertheless, if we could be insensible to the badness of his
discourse, we should feel ourselves moved by the different objects that
surround him. The greater part of his auditors are of the confraternity
of the _Camaldoli_; they are clad during their religious exercises in a
sort of grey robe, which entirely covers the head and the whole body,
with two little holes for the eyes. It is thus that the spirits of the
dead might be represented. These men, who are thus concealed beneath
their vestments, prostrate themselves on the earth and strike their
breasts. When the preacher throws himself on his knees crying for _mercy
and pity_, the congregation throw themselves on their knees also, and
repeat this same cry, which dies away beneath the ancient porticoes of
the Coliseum. It is impossible at this moment not to feel the most
religious emotion; this appeal from earthly misery to celestial good,
penetrates to the inmost sanctuary of the soul. Oswald started when all
the audience fell on their knees; he remained standing, not to jo