* * * * *
The superstition of the peasantry and lower orders generally in Malta,
Sicily, and Italy exceeds common belief. It is unlike the superstition of
Spain, which is a jealous fanaticism, having reference to their
catholicism, and always glancing on heresy. The popular superstition of
Italy is the offspring of the climate, the old associations, the manners,
and the very names of the places. It is pure paganism, undisturbed by any
anxiety about orthodoxy, or animosity against heretics. Hence, it is much
more good-natured and pleasing to a traveller's feelings, and certainly not
a whit less like the true religion of our dear Lord than the gloomy
idolatry of the Spaniards.
* * * * *
I well remember, when in Valetta in 1805, asking a boy who waited on me,
what a certain procession, then passing, was, and his answering with great
quickness, that it was Jesus Christ, _who lives here (sta di casa qui)_,
and when he comes out, it is in the shape of a wafer. But, "Eccelenza,"
said he, smiling and correcting himself, "non è Cristiano."[1]
[Footnote 1:
The following anecdote related by Mr. Coleridge, in April, 1811, was
preserved and communicated to me by Mr. Justice Coleridge:--"As I was
descending from Mount AEtna with a very lively talkative guide, we passed
through a village (I think called) Nicolozzi, when the host happened to be
passing through the street. Every one was prostrate; my guide became so;
and, not to be singular, I went down also. After resuming our journey, I
observed in my guide an unusual seriousness and long silence, which, after
many _hums_ and _hahs_, was interrupted by a low bow, and leave requested
to ask a question. This was of course granted, and the ensuing dialogue
took place. Guide. "Signor, are you then a Christian?" Coleridge. "I hope
so." G. "What! are all Englishmen Christians?" C. "I hope and trust they
are." G. "What! are you not Turks? Are you not damned eternally?" C. "I
trust not, through Christ." G. "What! you believe in Christ then?" C.
"Certainly." This answer produced another long silence. At length my guide
again spoke, still doubting the grand point of my Christianity. G. "I'm
thinking, Signor, what is the difference between you and us, that you are
to be certainly damned?" C. "Nothing very material; nothing that can
prevent our both going to heaven, I hope. We believe in the Father, the
Son, and the Holy Ghost." G. (interrupting me) "Oh those damned priests!
what liars they are! But (pausing) we can't do without them; we can't go to
heaven without them. But tell me, Signor, what _are_ the differences?" C.
"Why, for instance, we do not worship the Virgin." G. "And why not,
Signor?" C. "Because, though holy and pure, we think her still a woman,
and, therefore, do not pay her the honour due to God." G. "But do you not
worship Jesus, who sits on the right hand of God?" C. "We do." G. "Then why
not worship the Virgin, who sits on the left?" C. "I did not know she did.
If you can show it me in the Scriptures, I shall readily agree to worship
her." "Oh," said my man, with uncommon triumph, and cracking his fingers,
"sicuro, Signor! sicuro, Signor!""--ED.]
_July_ 30. 1831.