The Sun.
London, England, 1861-08-19 00:00:00

THE POPE AND THE FRIAR.

A letter from Turin, Aug. 15, says :—I am afraid
anything connected with Count Cavour's confesEor,
Father Giacomo, may be cast aside in
's England as
an old story, but since the good padre return to
Turin some authentic particulars have reached me
which, as strikingly characteristic of Pope Pius
IX., I shall venture to submit, as they are either
new or have only appeared in print strangely mis-

represented.
The Pope, I am told, received the friar with an
expression of playful, I ought to say jaunting,
flaunting disdain, with his head thrown backwards,
his voluminous chest and "corporation" puffed for-
ward, and with a sneer, which has lately become
habitual, curling his lip. " Well, Brother Giacomo,"
he began, when all the preliminary ceremonies of
an interview of that nature had been performed,

" well, we expect to hear something out of the
common way from you; have you your declaration
in writing ?" " Declaration !" quoth the monk,
" Holy Father, what am I expected to declare ?"
" Surely," the Pontiff insisted, " you know what
you were summoned here for—what took place be-
tween you and your illustrious penitent. .." I
hope your Holiness will show indulgence to a poor
monk," retorted the friar, " but who could expect
anything should transpire as to what occurred be-
tween a penitent and his confessor ? That is a secret
for God alone to search into." "Certainly, Brother
Giacomo," the Pope hastened to say, " still—." The
monk headed not the interruption. " All I can
freely say, and am happy to say, without breach
of duty, is that Count Cavour died as a good, very
good, Catholic Christian; and I can assure your
Holiness I only wish all my parishioners could die
as holy and peaceful a death as Count Cavour died."
The slippered foot of the Pope had been slightly
stamping the ground with impatience all the time
the friar spoke ; he cut him short at the end with a

bitter sarcastic tone. " Really, Frate Giacomo,
if it be so, I can only congratulate you on the very

exemplary flock you have got down there at Turin
A nice set of parishioners—a nice set !"
The friar cast down his eyes ; the head of the
Church so playfully sceptic about the omnipotence
of grace and mercy, so plainly incredulous as to a
timely revulsion of feeling, the contrition, repent-
ance, and happy release of even the most hardened
sinner, and so ready to draw from his own little
faith arguments against the religious disposition of
a whole congregation of Christians, sorely discom-
posed, puzzled, and perplexed the simple friar.
" And," the Pope proceeded, after a pause, dur-
ing which he fumbled a good deal with the folds of
his white robe,—" And the sacrament—the viatico,
which you administered to the dying Minister ?
Why, what an egregious farce (' the graziosa corn,-
media' were the precise words), what an egregious
play was that !"
The monk was staggered. " The sacraments,
Holy Father, were administered in the presence of
the Count's brother, the Marquis Gustavo, his
daughter and son-in-law, Count and Countess Al-
fieri, and other persons whose deep Catholic feelings
no man ever doubted. They can bear witness —"
" Enough said ; enough said," interrupted the
Pope, tartly; " you will please to prepare the de-
claration in writing that we demand of you. You
understand ; and you will not fail to present your-
self before the General of your order without delay."
With this the interview, which took far more time
than I have required to describe it, terminated. At
the General of the Franciscan Order's and at the
Holy Office scenes of the same nature took place. It
was plain that the Court of Rome hoped, either by
the awe inspired by the person of the Pontiff, or
by the terrors of monastic or Inquisitorial discipline
to bring the poor monk to reveal as much of Count
Cavour's confession as could by all the ingenuity of
priestly chicane be construed into no matter how
pale a ghost of a recantation on the Count's part of
his political errors. Nor would this have implied a
breach of the inviolable seal of confession, for a
retractation, in order to be efficacious and to have
any merit in the eyes of God, must be as public as
the doctrines or deeds from which the scandal arose,
and the recanting penitent must allow, and, indeed,
instruct his spiritual director to repair as openly as
possible the evil of which he acknowledges himself
the author. But the real fact is that Cavour had
nothing to retract—had not only no inclination, bat
no leisure, and, above all things, no self-conscious-
ness to make any retractation whatever. In spite
of all the idle talk that went about the newspapers,
the Court of Rome must have known, as ell as we
did here, that Father Giacomo had nothing to re-
veal ; and the summons of the poor friar to Rome
could have no other object than mere bravado, and
a wish to see whether intimidation and moral tor-
ture could wrench from the monk admissions which
could have no solid ground.
Father Giacomo is no man of genius, and is no
hero. He is an honest monk, fond of good living,
glad to be at peace with the whole world and with I
himself. But, however greatly flustered and dis-
concerted in his inward soul (he used to cling to
both arms of a Piedmontese friend of mine, then
in Rome, and " hope he would not forsake him "),
however often a prey to serious qualms and aghast
at the ugly scrape he had unwittingly got into, he
rallied whenever the hour of trial came round, and
always showed his enemies as free and easy and
secure, though humble and respectful a front, as we
have seen he did before the Pope. The monks of
his order in Rome, who had been prejudiced against
him, took pride in his firm and dignified behaviour,
and treated him with great regard and deference,
looking upon him as a brave fellow—a credit to the
cloth.

He had a parting interview with the Pope, in
whichthe latter behaved with less harshness,
though with even' greater superciliousness, and
affected to treat the monk and the errand upon
which he had been called as below his notice. He
still harped about the old subject of a " declara-
tion," a word now almost entirely devoid of mean-
ing, and at length signified his good pleasure to
allow Giacomo to depart in peace.
Adversity evidently works no good upon the
mind of the once benevolent Pio None. He has
been goaded by the taunts of the press, which
charged him with incapacity, or, at least, indolence,
in the exercise of his sovereign dnties to take
a great deal of the matters connected with the
temporal government upon himself. He acts
as chief of his own police ; sees spies and other
worthies every morning, and stuffs himself with a
great deal of idle, unwholesome, and perilous poli-
tical gossip. He delights in sudden coups d'etot,
and it was to one of these sudden outbursts of his
energetic character that Cardinal d'Andrea fell a
victim. The Pope repeated to him, word for word,
the criticisms which the Cardinal allowed himself
in the sanctity of private conversation, criticisms
touching the many abuses which rendered the
Papal Government a byword among civilised com-
munities; and the interview closed with an inti-
mation of the Pope that he would henceforth dis-
pense with the Cardinal's attendance upon his
sacred person. Fancy Pius IX. playing Tiberius
or Haroun el Raschid. Wonders will never cease,
and the Emperor of the French and the King of
Italy know not yet what customer they have to
cleat with ; they are far from fancying how soon
the aged Pontiff may take upon himself to play the
part of the old Gregorys. and Innocents.
In the:matter of Father Giacomo, however, the
Pope behaved with great coarseness and ill-temper,
and the monk haAci certainly the better of him.
Nothing, in the meanwhile, can equal the joy of the
. it
good friar in seeing himself out of the clutches of
oman Court, and breathing again, as he says
"the free air of his' own country." He is a native
of Poirin
Alitti! i,a small town on the road between Turin
and
been take, a:10 not hear that any measures have
yet concerning his parish.
The heat is
rising fearfully in this country, and
has attained
grade thermometer
34 and even 35 degrees of the centi-
inithe s_hade, and on a northern
exposure. At Milaniian
t i7:7 ; yet people coming
from Bologna assure ine3
harclimate of Turin is
"like spring" to th in
clone
as
Ldly
with that of
a summer their city. Such summerWparison
ever known
iu the valley of the Po.
We have rather alarm-
ing accounts of the, effects of the lone drought
in Genoa. The
G:enoese are, i,deee—
thirsty
souls." Their civi y conveys
f the " best”'
the scantiest supply ' of elements ;

the town quarters, away from this failing re-
source, have been for the last two months in the
greatest distress. Even the Nicolay water, so boun-
tiful and plentiful in the most trying times, fails
short of the wants of the parching population. The
two adjoining little valleys of Polcevera and
Bisagno, so rich in springs, are utterly dry. The
laundresses are at a loss how to wash, and the
country people have to go great distances with their
beasts of burden to fetch wherewith to water their
cattle, Within no living man's memory was the
Riviera scourged by so awful a cessation of all mois-
ture. Gardens and groves wither in the consuming
sun glare ; the country bears a look of desolation.
The deaths in Turin show an increase of 10 or 12
daily. At Chieri there have been cases of a " black
disease" (whatever it may be), which people think
contagious, and of which they fear the spread. The
doctors haVe ordered the immediate interment of
the first victims of the ominous complaint. As a
proof of the extraordinary state of the weather, I
may state that the pastures on the summits of the
Alps above Valdieri, which I saw a few days ago,
and which are usually so fresh and green and sweet
at this time of the year, were as dry and red as
stubble, and the cattle which is yearly sent np for
two months' grazing must be sent back to their
winter quarters, lest they should be starved on the
mountains.
There are some reports about Turin that Ciaidini
has resigned his command at Naples, owing to some
differences with the central Government on the sub-
ject of the employment of Garibaldian officers, but
there is, I believe, no ground for the report. This
would, indeed, be the most serious calamity Italy
has had to endure since Viliafranca. It is added
that General Menabrea would be sent out to take
Cialdini's place.