plundered Christendom until Pope Innocent died.
I said that I only wondered that between Pope and cardinals the whole system of Rome had not long fallen to the ground, and was told in reply that its not having fallen was the strongest proof of its vital power, and the absolute necessity for the existence of the system. That the system, notwithstanding its occasional disorders, went on. Popes and cardinals might prey upon its bowels, and sell its interests, but the system survived. The cutting off of this or that member was not able to cause Rome any vital loss; for, as soon as she lost a member, the loss was supplied by her own inherent vitality; though her Popes had been poisoned by cardinals, and her cardinals by Popes, and though priests occasionally poisoned Popes, cardinals and each other, after all that had been and might be, she had still, and would ever have, her priests, cardinals, and pope.
Finding the man in black so communicative and reasonable, I determined to make the best of my opportunity, and learn from him all I could with respect to the papal system, and told him that he would particularly oblige me by telling me who the Pope of Rome was, and received for answer that he was an old man elected by a majority of cardinals to the papal chair; who, immediately after his election, became omnipotent and equal to God on earth. On my begging him not to talk such nonsense, and asking him how a person could be omnipotent who could not always preserve himself from poison, even when fenced round by nephews, or protected by a bustling woman, he, after taking a long sip of hollands and water, told me that I must not expect too much from omnipotence. For example, that as it would be unreasonable to expect that One above could annihilate the past—for instance, the Seven Years’ War, or the French Revolution—though anyone who believed in Him would acknowledge Him to be omnipotent, so would it be unreasonable for the faithful to expect that the Pope could always guard himself from poison. Then, after looking at me for a moment stedfastly and taking another sip, he told me that Popes had frequently done impossibilities. For example, Innocent the Tenth had created a nephew; for, not liking particularly any of his real nephews, he had created the said Camillo Astalli his nephew; asking me, with a he! he! ‘What but omnipotence could make a young man nephew to a person to whom he was not in the slightest degree related?’ On my observing that of course no one believed that the young fellow was really the Pope’s nephew, though the Pope might have adopted him as such, the man in black replied, ‘that the reality of the nephewship of Camillo Astalli had hitherto never become a point of faith; let, however, the present Pope, or any other Pope, proclaim that it is necessary to believe in the reality of the nephewship of Camillo Astalli, and see whether the faithful would not believe in it. Who can doubt that,’ he added, ‘seeing that they believe in the reality of the five propositions of Jansenius? The Jesuits, wishing to ruin the Jansenists, induced a Pope to declare that such and such damnable opinions, which they called five propositions, were to be found in a book written by Jansen, though in reality no such propositions were to be found there; whereupon the existence of these propositions became forthwith a point of faith to the faithful. Do you then think,’ he demanded, ‘that there is one of the faithful who would not swallow, if called upon, the nephewship of Camillo Astalli as easily as the five propositions of Jansenius?’ ‘Surely, then,’ said I, ‘the faithful must be a pretty pack of simpletons!’ Whereupon the man in black exclaimed, ‘What! a Protestant, and an infringer of the rights of faith! Here’s a fellow who would feel himself insulted if anyone were to ask him how he could believe in the miraculous conception, calling people simpletons who swallow the five propositions of Jansenius, and are disposed, if called upon, to swallow the reality of the nephewship of Camillo Astalli.’
I was about to speak when I was interrupted by the arrival of Belle. After unharnessing her donkey and adjusting her person a little, she came and sat down by us. In the meantime I had helped my companion to some more hollands and water, and had plunged with him into yet deeper discourse.
CHAPTER III
NECESSITY OF RELIGION—THE GREAT INDIAN ONE—IMAGE-WORSHIP—SHAKESPEARE—THE PAT ANSWER—KRISHNA—AMEN
Having told the man in black that I should like to know all the truth with regard to the Pope and his system, he assured me he should be delighted to give me all the information in his power; that he had come to the dingle, not so much for the sake of the good cheer which I was in the habit of giving him, as in the hope of inducing me to enlist under the banners of Rome, and to fight in her cause; and that he had no doubt that, by speaking out frankly to me, he ran the best chance of winning me over.
He then proceeded to tell me that the experience of countless ages had proved the necessity of religion; the necessity, he would admit, was only for simpletons, but as nine-tenths of the dwellers upon this earth were simpletons, it would never do for sensible people to run counter to their folly, but, on the contrary, it was their wisest course to encourage them in it, always provided that, by so doing, sensible people could derive advantage; that the truly sensible people of this world were the priests, who, without caring a straw for religion for its own sake, made use of it as a cord by which to draw the simpletons after them; that there were many religions in this world, all of which had been turned to excellent account by the priesthood; but that the one the best adapted for the purposes of priestcraft was the popish, which, he said, was the oldest in the world and the best calculated to endure. On my inquiring what he meant by saying the popish religion was the oldest in the world, whereas there could be no doubt that the Greek and Roman religion had existed long before it, to say nothing of the old Indian religion still in existence and vigour, he said, with a nod, after taking a sip at his glass, that, between me and him, the popish religion, that of Greece and Rome, and the old Indian system were, in reality, one and the same.
‘You told me that you intended to be frank,’ said I, ‘but, however frank you may be, I think you are rather wild.’
‘We priests of Rome,’ said the man in black, ‘even those amongst us who do not go much abroad, know a great deal about church matters, of which you heretics have very little idea. Those of our brethren of the Propaganda, on their return home from distant missions, not unfrequently tell us very strange things relating to our dear mother: for example, our first missionaries to the East were not slow in discovering and telling to their brethren that our religion and the great Indian one were identical, no more difference between them than between Ram and Rome. Priests, convents, beads, prayers, processions, fastings, penances, all the same, not forgetting anchorites, and vermin, he! he! The Pope they found under the title of the Grand Lama, a sucking child surrounded by an immense number of priests. Our good brethren, some two hundred years ago, had a hearty laugh, which their successors have often re-echoed; they said that helpless suckling and its priests put them so much in mind of their own old man, surrounded by his cardinals, he! he! Old age is second childhood.’
‘Did they find Christ?’ said I.
‘They found him too,’ said the man in black, ‘that is, they saw His image; He is considered in India as a pure kind of being, and on that account, perhaps, is kept there rather in the back-ground, even as He is here.’
‘All this is very mysterious to me,’ said I.
‘Very likely,’ said the man in black; ‘but of this I am tolerably sure, and so are most of those of Rome, that modern Rome had its religion from ancient Rome, which had its religion from the East.’
‘But how?’ I demanded.
‘It was brought about, I believe, by the wanderings of nations,’ said the man in black. ‘A brother of the Propaganda, a very learned man, once told me—I do not mean Mezzofanti, who has not five ideas—this brother once told me that all we of the Old World, from Calcutta to Dublin, are of the same stock, and were originally of the same language, and—’
‘All
