ROSMINI-SERBATI, Antonio (1797-1855), perhaps the most important figure in modern Italian philosophy, was born at Roverton in the Italian Tyrol in 1797, and died in 1855. With every worldly advantage as the eldest son of a noble and wealthy family, from an early age he resolved to devote himself to God's service in the Catholic priesthood. He became the founder of a new religious order, named the Institute of Charity, but known in Italy generally as the Rosminians. The members may be priests or laymen. All are prepared to do any works of charity-coporal, intellectual, or spiritual- to which they may be directed by divine providence, under obedience to their superior, to the bishops, and to the pope. They have branches in Italy, England, Ireland, France, and America. In London they are attached to the ancient church of St Etheldreda, Ely Place, Holborn, where the English translations of Rosmini's works are edited.

Rosmini's Sistema Filosofico set forth the conception of a complete encyclopedia of the human knowable, synthetically conjoined, according to the order of ideas, in a perfectly harmonious whole. This conception Rosmini developed in more than forty volumes. Here a brief notice of the characteristic principle of his philosophy must suffice.

Rosmini, contemplating the position of recent philosophy from Locke to Hegel, and having his eye directed to the ancient and fundamental problem of the origin, truth and certainty of our ideas, wrote:- "If philosophy is to be restored to love and respect, I think it will be necessary, in part, to return to the teachings of the ancients, and in part to give those teachings

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the benefit of modern methods" (Theodicy, n. 148). Pursuing
therefore the now generally approved method of the observation
of facts, he most carefully examined and analysed the fact of
human knowledge, and obtained the following results:-(1) that the
notion or idea of being or existence in general enters into,
and is presupposed by, all our acquired cognitions, so that,
without it, they would be impossible; (2) that this idea is
essentially objective, inasmuch as what is seen in it is as
distinct from and opposed to the mind that sees it as the light
is from the eye that looks at it;(3) that it is essentially
true, because "being" and "truth" are convertible terms, and
because in the vision of it the mind cannot err, since error
could only be committed by a judgment, and here there is no
judgment, but a pure intuition affirming nothing and denying
nothing; (4) that by the application of this essentially objective
and true idea the human being intellectually perceives, first,
the animal body individually conjoined with him, and then, on
occasion of the sensations produced in him not by himself, the
causes of those sensations, that is, from the action felt he
perceives and affirms an agent, a being, and therefore a true
thing that acts on him, and he thus gets at the external world,-
these are the true primitive judgments, containing (a) the
subsistence of the particular being (subject), and (b) its
essence or species as determined by the quality of the action
felt from it (predicted); (5) that reflexion, by separating the
essence or species from the subsistence, obtains the full specific
idea (universalization), and then from this, by leaving aside

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some of its elements, the abstract specific idea (abstraction);
(6) that the mind, having reached this stage of development, can
proceed to further and further anstract, including the first
principles of reasoning, the principles of the several sciences,
complex ideas, groups of ideas, and so on without end; (7)
finally, that the same most universal idea of being, this genera-
tor and formal element of all acquired cognitions, cannot it-
self be acquired, but must be innate in us, implanted by God in
our mature. Being, as naturally shining to our mind, must
therefore be what men call the light of reason. Hence the
name Rosmini gives it of ideal being; and this he laid down as
the one true fundamental principle of all philosophy, and the
supreme criterion of truth and certainty. This he firmly
believed to be the teaching of St Augustine, as well as of St
Thomas, of whom he was an ardent admirer and defender. The
above seven points could only be hinted at here. A complete
and exaustive treatment of them will be found in Rosmini's
New Essay on the Origin of Ideas, which has lately been render-
ed into English (London, 1883-84).

Rosmini's Sistema Filosofico has been translated into
English by Davidson (Rosmini's Philosophical System, London, 1882 )
The volume contains also a biographical sketch of the author,
with a complete catalogue of his writings, ninety-nine in all,
on philosophical, religious, and miscellaneous subjects, and
a copious list of works relating to his life and philosophy.

From Symonds' Gozzi - 1.

vol I - cited from Garzoni: "Piattaforma universale" -

"In one corner of it you will see our swaggering Fortunato and his
boon companions Fritata spinning yarns, and keeping the whole
populace agape into the night with stories, songs, improvisations,
dialogues; quarrelling, making-up, dying of laughter, coming to
blows again, bustling about their stage, settling the dispute by
fisticuffs and violent language, and lastly handing round the cap
to reap the harvest of the pennies they have earned.
In another
corner, Burattino sets up his bray of brass.
You would think
that the hangman had got hold of you, to hear him yell into your
ears.
He carries a scavenger's bag and a common sailor's cap,
a
and screams until the whole world gathers round him.
The people
crowd, the groundlings jostle, men of quality press forward to the
platform.
When the burlesque prologue comes to a conclusion,
old
Burattino's master puts in his appearance.
It is our friend the
Doctor, with his Bolognese jargon, long-winded citations, insipid
tomfooleries, and absurd pretensions to omniscience.
The droning
of this arrant humbug drives as many of the audience away as the
zany's merry pranks and roguish whiskers and apish tricks have
drawn together.
Meanwhile the curtains of the booth open, and the
Tuscan comes forth with his tumbling girl.
He begins some silly
story in the Florentine tongue, during which the girl draws her
circle and puts herself in position, straddling with arms and legs
abroad, flinging her body backwards to pick up a piece of money
with her mouth from two crossed swords, and tickling the greasy

2.

varlets of the market-place by the exhibition of her lascivious graces. Not far away, you may see the Milanese quack, dressed like a noble gentleman, velvet cap on head and white Guelf feathers waving to the wind. He is telling his man Gradello some story of his hapless love. The groom cuts indecent jokes and gibes in the background; then swaggers forward, twirls his moustachioes, vows to uphold his master's cause against all rivals, and bristles like an enraged bloodhound; but, on a sudden, feigning to see foemen near, he drops his arms, knocks his knees together, befouls his breeches on the stage, and lets himself be soundly drubbed.

When that interlude is over, Gradello acts another part. He is a blind man squalling out a ditty, and thrumming on a puppy in his lap instead of a theorbo. The climax of all this buffoonery is a panegyric of some famous pills, which lasts an hour or two, and leaves the charlatan wrangling over cents and farthings with his swiftly dwindling audience. Toward evening the crowd of quacks and blind musicians and acrobats thicken. Here is Zan della Vigna with his performing monkey; there Catullo and his guitar; in another corner the Mantuan merry-andrew, dressed up like a zany, Zottino singing an ode to the pox, and the pretty Sicilian rope-dancer. Tamburino spins eggs on a stick; the Neapolitan capers about with brimming bowls of water on his pate; and Maestro Paolo da Arezzo makes his solemn entry with a waving banner, on which you see St Paul, holding a huge falchion in one hand, while the rest of the field is painted over with twining hissing serpents.

The mountebank clears his throat and relates his fabulous pedigree.

ST Paul was his great ancestor, and ever since that accident upon

3.

the island of Malta, all the family have possessed miraculous powers over the snaky tribe. Hereupon boxes are opened, and horried vipers, water-snakes, and adders are drawn forth to the terror of the bystanders. 'Do not be afraid,' continues Maestro Paolo; 'I have delivered your fields and woods from these plagues and their poison.' The trembling country-lads creep up and buy a box of powders from the condescending hands of the imposter.

After the sight of all those asps and crocodiles, stuffed basilisks, tarantulas, and Indian armadilloes, there is not one of them would venture out into the country lanes without a prophylactic.

Meanwhile, Settecervelli has laid his mantle on the pavement, and is making his little bitch go through her tricks, bark at the worst-dressed fellow in the circle, howl at the name of the Grand Turk, dance for joy in honour of her master's sweetheart, and carry round the cap for pennies in her mouth. The Parmesan is not to be outdone by these performances; he has his nanny-goat, whose antics are at least as sight-worthy as the puppy's.

The Turkish athlete climbs the campanile, lets his brawny chest be hammered like an anvil, dislodges a stout pillar by the strength of his huge arms and shoulders, and wins a bag of coppers heavy enough to pay his expenses to the holy town of Mecca.

The baptized Jew wails in a lamentable tone of voice, *goi, goi, badanai, badanai*, till he has attracted a crowd round him; then he tells the romance of his conversion to the true faith, which leaves a strong impression on our mind that if he had become a sincere Christian, which is more than doubtful, he has certainly not lost the arts of an accomplished cheat.

Soon the whole piazza is swarming with folk of this

4.

sort; pills and powders, for all the ills that flesh is heir to,
are being hawked about; men are eating fire, and swallowing tow, and
pulling yards of twine from their throats, and washing their faces
in molten lead, and finding cards in the pockets of their unsus-
pecting neighbours; every conceivable article, which ingenuity can
force on the attention of simpletons, is flirted in one's face,
and vaunted with a deafening din by hoarse and squeaking salesmen."

396

ROMAN SOCIETY A CENTURY AGO.

March,

really come to analyze all the criticisms
and suggestions which are made, we find
that no one has ventured seriously to
attack the system. It is very pleasant
to break a lance against existing cus-
toms, and many have been shivered by
the reformer's onslaught, but the posi-
tion, the education, the training of our
girls are far more momentous than any
social tradition yet assailed; and moth-
ers, though they do not yet "scent the
battle from afar," or are gathering
themselves in conclave "in upper cham-
bers, anxious, waiting, determined," are
perfectly conscious of their difficulties
and of the new questions created by the
changes which education and the grow-

ing dislike of all control have brought
about. The whole fabric of the love
between mother and daughter is not to
be shattered because the restrictions
against hearing Mr. Chevalier sing, see-
ing *The Second Mrs. Tanqueray*, and
reading *Dodo and The Heavenly Twins*
are being enforced. That love has ex-
isted and will continue as long as women
do not forfeit the friendship and confi-
dence which it is a girl's instinct always
to give to her mother; and the wise
mother, having gained her affection,
will have no difficulty in steering clear
of the rocks and shoals which ever un-
derlie the smoothest currents of the
waters of life.—*Fortnightly Review*.

ROMAN SOCIETY A CENTURY AGO.

BY CHARLES EDWARDES.

A HUNDRED years ago Rome, of
course, knew nothing of a free Press.
Such an institution would have profited
the Romans little: except perhaps as a
stimulus to that education without
which printed paper is of no avail.
Still, there was something which then
stood toward the bulk of the people
much as the light, and not every rever-
ent, Roman newspapers of to-day stand
toward our *fin de siècle* Romans. De-
prived of her pasquinades, the Eternal
City would have missed an eternal sub-
ject of conversation; the citizens would
have lost touch with the events of the
day; and the laughing, reckless, pleb.
would have lacked the inspiration of
many a hearty and echoing guffaw as the
words of the latest witticism (ten to one
a bitter satire) were read out by some
erudite spectacled abbé, in the fore-
ground of the crowd, for the information
and entertainment of his neighbors.

It was a capital offence thus to hold
up the Papal dignity and court to ridi-
cule. To be sure, the full penalty was
seldom enforced. The milder punish-
ment of the galleys for life was not, one
would suppose, to be faced without winc-
ing; yet faced it was, day after day.
Nor can we regret that it was so, remem-
bering the cleverness of some of these
jests. What, for example, more appro-
priate than the name "Summus Fonti-

fex,” here given to Sixtus V., the
creator of so many of Rome’s extraordi-
nary fountains—still the wonder, if not
exactly the admiration, of strangers?
Of Pius VI. the pasquinade was almost
prophetic.

“The sixth Tarquin, the sixth Nero—

Rome has ever been ruined in the reign of
the sixths.”

The words on this Pope's tomb may well
be contrasted with the pasquinade it-
self :—

“In sede magnus
Ex sede major,
In cœlo maximus.”

Again, take the witty lines which
Rome read on this immortal statue on
the 26th May, 1798, when the city was
in hard bondage to France, whose emis-
saries were sacking palaces and the treas-
uries of churches, and making mon-
strous requisitions upon all Romans
capable of responding to them.—

“Marforio: What’s the weather, Pasquin?

Pasquin: Thievish weather.”

The Roman satirists of the eighteenth
century found plenty of scope for their
lash among their fellow-citizens; but
this ability to laugh in the midst of mis-
fortune is an attribute so genial that it
seems to condone some of the graver
vices of Rome.

One of the most remarkable of these

1894.

THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS.

395

to sail safely through the troublous sea
on which she would embark ?

There is, however, another aspect of
the question which is graver and still
more delicate. We do not imagine
that the proposed enfranchisement of
girls is to be limited to the life they
wish to lead or the companions they
associate with. If a girl is to be left to
exercise her own discretion in such
things, it can be only after a fuller
knowledge of life and its problems have
been unfolded to her, for she could not
be launched on her new career without
full instruction in the mysteries of the
Book of Life. To be safe, she must
know how to protect herself, and that
power can only be acquired after full in-
itiation in that knowledge which hither-
to she had been carefully guarded from.
Superficially, the proposed change in
the life of young girls appears compar-
atively small, but if one analyzes its
effect it means a complete upheaval of
all the traditions of the past. The new
school with regard to the position of
women holds that absolute knowledge
of life cannot only do no harm, but is
necessary and just, and should not be
withheld from the girl of to-day, and
that instruction in its mysteries is as
important a part of her curriculum as
any other subject. If knowledge meant
absolute protection from temptation and
evil, it might be argued that girls
thrown early on their own resources,
and from circumstances obliged to face
the world, would be better able to carry
out their career safely if warned of cer-
tain obvious dangers to be avoided.
But such cases are the exception, for
with the majority of girls the home is
still a haven of safety, the mother is
counsellor and friend, and we have to
legislate for the community at large.
We are told that there is no innocence
in ignorance, and that girls would be
wiser, more discreet, and less likely to
fall into temptation if they knew more.
If the programme of the new reformers
were carried out, the complete destruc-
tion of the present system as to the
bringing up of girls would make some
changes necessary. For if we are to
give girls the freedom of married women
without the protection of the husband,
we must find his substitute, and from a
fuller knowledge of life that substitute
must come.

Will any one calmly say that such a
change is possible or desirable in any of
its aspects? Do we wish to see our girls
half men in theory and half women in
inexperience and ignorance, with a su-
perficial smattering of knowledge
grafted on to the restless impulses and
vague curiosity of youth—with all the
romance, all the illusions of life dis-
pelled, and with neither the constitu-
tion nor capacity of men to carry out
their careers, and, above all, bereft of
the sweet gift of purity which hitherto
has constituted their greatest charm ?
What advantage is it to a woman to
know the dark ways of life and their
dark shadows, as well as all the byways
of vice and wickedness, for we may rest
assured that women, like their mother
Eve, will not be content with a little
knowledge, but will probe as deeply as
is possible and will eat the fruit of the
tree of knowledge to their fill? Why is
the rosy morning of life, with its joys,
its interests, its indescribable longings,
to be but a dream of the past, and why
must the girl step from the threshold of
her girlhood into womanhood sur-
rounded by the cloud of a knowledge
which makes her sad and old before she
is young ? For we believe that the ma-
jority of women would, if asked, declare
that such knowledge only brought sor-
row and often horror. The days of youth
are few, alas! and why shroud them
sooner than need be with instruction
that is the painful necessity of later life ?

Were we to appeal to the creature
whose influence has created this false
atmosphere around women, we have lit-
tle doubt that his reply would be that
what women must learn of life and all
its shadows had best be taught by their
safest counsellor and friend, their hus-
band. We fear we shall be considered
but very poor champions of our sex in
avowing this, but we prefer our daugh-
ters should be as little versed in the
knowledge of life as their foremothers
were. No doubt we shall lose some-
thing of the robust intellectual self-
reliance of emancipated girls, but we
shall always have with us the daughters
of our hearts, ignorant, wilful, perhaps
not always prudent, but with the better
armor that innocence, romance, and a
belief in the illusions of life must always
ensure. The problem is so difficult, so
complex, so full of pitfalls, that if we

1894.

ROMAN SOCIETY A CENTURY AGO.

397

placards was surely that which startled even the Romans in November, 1774. That was a time of interregnum. Poor Clement XIV. had died that terrible death which may, without doubt, be ascribed to the Jesuits. From being a sound and hearty man he had, in the course of a few days, become blotched and swollen. His bones dwindled and softened, and all the tokens were of poisoning by some mysterious and abhorrent process. Finally he had died; his skin peeled from his body with his clothes, his hair left his head en masse, and all his nails fell from him. Then began the conclave which lasted one hundred and thirty-four days, until the city and all Catholic Europe were sick of it. The old tradition of barring the precincts of the Vatican during the conclave, and of keeping the Castello S. Angelo on a war footing, was persisted in. It is to be presumed, further, that all removable wainscotings in every house in Rome were for this long spell laid flat—in accordance with the official regulation. Meanwhile, the Ambassador of France and the old Cardinal Albani strove with each other in the Vatican. The Cardinal was not above taunting his enemy in public with owing his red hat to the favor of the latest mistress of his Most Serene Majesty of France.

Then it was that the Romans one morning crowded round the time-honored statue, near the Piazza Navona, to read of a musical drama to be given during the carnival of 1775, entitled, "The Conclave of 1774." The placard was in large letters, and bore colored figures at the head of it; while the context explained the plot of the piece, and gave the characters, who included seventeen cardinals, as well as divers other personages for the ballets. The chorus was composed of the secretaries and menials of the Vatican. The police had already, in the night, torn down one of the placards, but Rome was then so ill-lighted after sunset that it was not difficult for the bill-sticker to affix a second without danger of arrest. From early dawn the crowd had formed so thick about the statue that the police could not penetrate it to remove this one also. Being masters of the situation, the populace enjoyed the scurrility to their hearts' content.

Anon the police had their opportunity. A whipping procession passed by on its way to the Campo dei Fiori, and formed a strong counter-attraction for the mob. The victims were two in number. One was naked save for a short pair of breeches, a cardboard mitre, decorated with flames and devils in color, and a ticket round his neck inscribed with this crime, "Blasphemer of God's Holy Name." He was gagged in such a way that his tongue lolled from his mouth, and from head to foot he was mired with the filth cast upon him by the playful public. This man's companion was a large fat fellow, little better clad, although wearing a plain white mitre, surmounted by a half-moon contrasting with the other's ghastly headgear. The half-moon suggested his offence. His ticket indicated it explicitly. "A willing cuckold" was the singular device. He had, in fact, abandoned his wife to the Swiss Guards of the Vatican. Even in our century, the custom of leading a felon mitratus per urbem still held in Rome. A hundred years ago it was entirely the vogue; and when in the Campo dei Fiori the culprits were thrown face downward on the bench, and soundly trounced with the oxhide thongs, the crowd could hardly contain itself for laughter.

As the fickle populace broke from the pasquinade to follow this new allurement, a silent man, in a black cap, heralded by the cry of "Make way! make way!" appeared on the scene. He was a familiar of the Holy Office, concerned with the prosecution and punishment of sacrilege, and much else; and dreaded, in right of his vocation. He took the notice from the wall, folded it up, and pocketed it. The outcome was the prosecution of a certain abbé, who duly received sentence of death, which was subsequently modified into imprisonment for life, and, later, merely exile.

This is a faithful picture of an aspect in Roman existence in 1774, done from the memoirs of another abbé, one Benedetti, who, dying in 1830, at the age of eighty, after a lifelong devotion to the Holy City, left behind him the valuable anecdotic material which has been so skilfully edited and extended by Silvagni.

Benedetti was a type of the great class